#aesthetic attraction is going places with this man though

[chloeseyeliner]

another afternoon goes by. another evening is coming soon. another day is already inviting us to get lost in it; yet, i am still stuck on the same torturing question.

who is one of the most beautiful men you have seen in your life and why is it omar rudberg?

#it sucks that i don't have photo evidence #but there are plently omar photos around here #just fyi #i am not attracted to omar because i am ✨asexual✨ so i naturally cannot lol #aesthetic attraction is going places with this man though #if someone asks me about my sexuality every i'll just say #i am romantically attracted to wonderful girls i become close with #black cat and golden retriever boys #cool people with amazing personalities in between #and ALSO aesthetically attracted to omar rudberg in moving like that mv because DAMN i wanna be this pretty #and he is so beautiful and talented and confident #so yeah thanks for reading this rant if you did #sometimes i wonder #should i have a podcast? #because i have too many words inside my head that never come out and i want them to ugh #lol #i mean not just for fandoms #words as regards life and the sociology analysis behind things and politics and books and- #omar rudberg #young royals #*plenty of (for the first tag)

[vulpisnocturna]

Binding Vow

This is purely self-indulgent because I was consumed with the idea of Chrollo and specifically, Yandere!Chrollo. So here it goes. This is filthy and Chrollo is unhinged. Nothing new.

Read on AO3

Part II

Part III

I do not condone this behaviour in real life. This is purely fictional. Please read warnings and avoid if any of them are triggering to you.

Warnings: Yandere Chrollo, dom Chrollo, coercion, dub con (I mean it), psychological manipulation, kidnapping, captivity, possessiveness, obsession, fingering, oral sex (f!receiving), vaginal sex, creampie, praise, slight humiliation kink

Summary: Abducted because Chrollo could not steal your Nen ability, you are ready to give in and trade your power for your freedom. But the choices Chrollo decides to lay in front of you are wholly different. One would say, the illusion of choice. You make him swear a vow to let you go as you make your choice. But one should pay close attention to the words used in a binding vow...

Word count: 7k

One would think so many candles would be a fire hazard, to be frank. They were everywhere, on every wooden surface, on every shelf that wasn’t overcome with books of all sizes with leather spines, on the nightstands and even on the ground. It was as though the leader of the Phantom Troupe had an obsession with a certain type of aesthetic, and would not refrain from littering his surroundings with candles every time he found a new place where his gang could crash. Perhaps, he had a candle for every person he had ever killed.

Though you supposed one would lose count after a while.

If you were to ingratiate him, you knew what he would appreciate having as a gift; although who needed gifts when your profession was stealing whatever you wanted, whatever thing you had a passing whim for?

As far as you were aware, you were the last passing whim Chrollo Lucilfer had stolen. You had known of his power to steal abilities, and even though you had tried to escape when the Troupe had come to abduct you, it seemed he hadn’t been successful in stealing your power. Yet.

Your Nen power wasn’t meant to fight, really, so the possibility of forcing your way through the Troupe had been preposterous. Your ability was that of having regenerative power, to the point where you could heal fatal wounds to yourself and others. He obviously must have wanted it for himself, and you hadn’t exactly had any way of escaping his wishes.

After a month of captivity, though, you weren’t sure you could bear it for much longer. If all he wanted was your power, why not let him “borrow” it, as he so nonchalantly put it? So you could go back to your own life, so you didn’t have to be locked up in that house, so that he would let you go? Would he even let you go, if you gave him the ability? Or would he want to tie loose ends and get rid of you? You shuddered in the cold air of the bedroom you had been confined to in his absence. 

He had left you to your own devices that day for the entirety of the morning, whilst he had spent all his time with you previously. Studying you, asking you questions, letting you know between the lines that he knew who you were, who your loved ones were, where they lived. He had called you a “treasured guest” in the same sentence, with such audacity that you had been left stunned at the complete lack of morals that man had.

But then again, he also seemed to have some twisted attraction to you. They did say the forbidden fruit was always the sweetest, and because you knew of his power, he couldn’t get to your Nen ability if you did not reveal how it worked and fulfilled his conditions. In the last two weeks, he had taken to something you could only define as an attempt at seduction.

He would sit with you in the living room, inviting you to get closer to him, reassuring you he had no intentions of harming you. He would stare at you with those stormy eyes of his that seemed to burn through you like electricity, and his gaze would rake over your body like he was appraising some kind of rare, expensive object he planned to take for himself. Which he probably was.

Despite knowing who he was, despite knowing how sticky with blood his hands were, you were only a fallible human. And he was... a murderer, a manipulator, a thief; and he was also cunning, intuitive, soft-spoken, caring with you in a sick way, and the most handsome man you had ever met. Despite all of your efforts, it was not possible to deny the effect he had on you. And it was not possible to hide it from him. Observant as he was, obsessed as he was with watching your every reaction, every little twitch of your body, every time your breath faltered when he was too close, every time he commented casually how your pupils were dilating, every time his long, willowy fingers grazed your skin, he could see all of it. And all of it was a twisted game of cat and mouse to him.

Another heist, another plot to strategise and accomplish. He was always composed, always neutral, if not for his sly looks, wily smirks and piercing eyes. He always seemed to have the upper hand. It did not matter that he did not have your power, he seemed to be a patient man.

Until that day.

You had assumed he was waiting for you to break by keeping you captive, although treated with enough civility and never physically harmed, because he had not mentioned wanting your Nen power since the one time he had told you he wished to borrow it. In your mind, he was simply determined to stir the pot and then leave you to stew in it for a while, knowing at some point, your desire for freedom would overcome your attachment to your ability. Letting you run your mind wild with suppositions and conjectures that led nowhere as you tried to analyse his reasons and predict his behaviour. And it was working. You were almost done with it. If he asked you to choose between your power and your freedom, you knew what you would pick.

When he came back from whatever the hell he’d been doing that morning, his appearance was pristine. He was wearing his hair down, no headband in sight, a white shirt with the first two buttons undone and smart black trousers. All in all, he was the picture of what you could only define as sex appeal and sophistication mixed together in a heady blur of sharp eyes, chiselled, angular features and a mellow voice that still managed to sting.

He unlocked your door using a Nen ability he’d probably also stolen and closed it behind him, smiling softly at you as he appraised you.

‘Hello, darling. I hope you did not feel too lonely without my company’ he said easily, conversationally. You disliked the pet names he had started to throw at you in the last two weeks. They made it seem like there was more to this relationship than a prisoner and their warden. More he wanted. But not your ability. No. You. And it made your stomach churn every time. 

You decided to ignore him, because what else could you do? You were locked in a room with him, with no escape, and you had been held captive for a month now. What could possibly make it worse than it already was?

But you were so very naïve. You should have paid heed to his shrewd grey eyes, to the way his lips twitched as though he delighted in knowing something you didn’t, in watching you rack your brains in trying to figure him out.

You had been so naïve in thinking that he had kidnapped you and held you captive to steal your ability. After all, he could torture it out of you. 

Did he just enjoy the game? What did he want? Was there another condition that needed you to be willing to share it with him? That must have been it. He needed you to give it to him willingly, that was why he was going after your mental sanity instead of torturing it out of you.

‘You seem quite tense. Sit with me. I have a proposition for you’ he said, gracefully stepping to your side, brushing his fingers on your lower back, sending shivers down your spine just as your nose caught a whiff of his expensive cologne. His scent was just as intoxicating as he was, something masculine yet refined, a blend that made your lower stomach hot. You fought to keep eye contact as he sat on the plush loveseat by the fireplace, tapping the empty space right next to him, his eyes boring into you with curious amusement. 

You grimaced, feeling weak and dizzy as you sat down on the armchair, the only other surface available to you aside from the bed and the loveseat, which was out of the question. Chrollo’s lips twitched in amusement, his eyes glinting with interest as he rested his cheek against his fist. 

‘I have a few choices for you. I assume you are quite unsatisfied with your current predicament, therefore, I am giving you the chance to escape all the doubt that must be swarming your mind by now’ he said calmly, that little smirk still on his lips. You did not give way to hope. You did not lower your guard. Thieves did not return goods. If they got rid of them, it was after getting something else in return. So what was he playing at? What was his angle?

‘Your distrust is quite strong, dearest. You should learn to hide your emotions more, if you plan to attempt to play me. Though I must admit the thought of it is quite thrilling. So feel free to try it. Your first choice is to give me your Nen ability in exchange for the end of this predicament. Your second choice is to give yourself to me now. I trust you understand the meaning behind my words. If that is your choice, you can start by getting up and walking over here’ he said, smoothly, easily, seductively, his eyes mischievous. 

You blinked, swallowing heavily, your lips parting. He… was making you choose between your Nen ability or having sex with him in exchange for your freedom? The choice was not really that. It was an illusion of it. Perhaps he merely sought to humiliate you, because of course, the reasonable choice would be to get it over and done with, have sex with him just that once and walk away with your life and your ability intact. Who in their right mind would pick the first choice? 

He was hot, charming, attractive. So long as you could separate the part of you that knew what he was, what he did, and the shame that came with prostituting yourself to your captor, it would not be that bad. It would be over quickly, you only had to focus on his physical attributes, shut out his horrid persona.

‘You want me to prostitute myself to you’ you said, your cheeks burning with humiliation. He let out a wilful sigh. 

‘That is an uncouth appraisal of it. It is quite clear from your reactions to me that you desire me, too. Is that prostitution? More of a mutual desire, I’d wager. Rather a small price to pay to retain your power, is it not?’ he asked, smiling sweetly, smugly. You ground your jaw, your whole face feeling hot, your eyes stinging with the embarrassment of your current predicament, as he loved to call your captivity.

‘Why would I want to... have sex with someone like you? A... murderer- a thief, a kidnapper?’ you spat, repulsed, sitting rigidly in the armchair, quite the opposite picture to his nonchalant lounging. He let out a soft laugh.

‘Oh, darling. Are you pretending to have steadfast morals now?’ he crooned, voice soft and mellow. Completely unbothered by your accusations.

‘What are you trying to imply?’ you chewed on the corner of your bottom lip, a movement he followed with a hint of ravenousness in his silvery eyes.

‘Your morals seem somewhat flexible to me. You have been eating food paid with stolen money for a month, sleeping in a stolen mansion, wearing stolen clothes. I trust you were clever enough to know this from the beginning of your sojourn here’ he said casually, seeming almost enthusiastic about debunking every argument you could bring to the table. It was as though he found pleasure in discrediting your beliefs and making you vacillate. Perhaps it stroked his ego.

 ‘I had no choice about sleeping here. Should I have starved? Should I have wandered around naked for a month?’ you snapped, regretting your words immediately when you saw him look at you so intensely. As though he was undressing you himself with his eyes.

‘Well, you certainly could have tried to starve yourself. I would have admired your efforts to cling to your pride and ethical dilemma, and you would not be in this moral conundrum now if you had. You would be able to blame me for it. As to your last point, that would have certainly been a sight. Again, the choice was there. I would not have stopped you’ he said slyly, his voice getting lower and more seductive, like a caress on your spine. You bristled.

‘Those are not choices. Like these aren’t’ you pressed, and he sighed, still smiling like nothing could make him waver.

‘Are they not? You have two paths before you. Every human being is offered choices. Now, be a darling and make one. What will you choose?’ he mused. You closed your eyes, your fingers curling on the fabric of your skirt.

‘You will not steal my power if I- give my body to you now. Right?’ you asked slowly, trying to find a loophole in his words.

‘I will not. If you choose to indulge me now, I will not steal your power’ he said. You gulped. You did not want him to lose his patience and take away your opportunity. You also wanted his word that you would be let out alive and unharmed.

‘And this- this predicament will be done once I do that too. You will not kill me- nor harm me after that. I will be allowed to leave this place alive’ you said cautiously, weighing your words. He smiled.

‘Of course. In order to ease your worries, why don’t I make a vow with you? A condition, if you will. And if I break it, I will die. If this is your choice, and you want reassurance before you continue with it, I will of course be willing to ease your worries. Stand up and come closer’ he said, and you tried not to show your relief. If he was promising, there was nothing to worry about. You could do this, keep your life and your well-being, leave with your power. It was not a bad deal. Not a bad deal at all. You should be happy that he seemed to be attracted to you. That he was even giving you a choice in the matter.

You slowly got up, and your legs felt weak as you stepped closer to him, feeling like his gaze was burning through you. You stopped in front of him, tense like a violin string as a grimoire appeared in his hand.

‘Sit on my lap, darling’ he murmured, and you found yourself feeling all kinds of things in your body, from nerve-wracking anxiety to butterflies in your stomach to warmth in your gut and weakness in your legs. You inched closer to him, gingerly sitting sideways on his lap.

You were immediately engulfed by his enthralling cologne, and his arm wrapped around you, fingers curling on your waist to keep you in place. You squirmed, gulping when he dipped his head to breathe against your neck, making goosebumps appear on your exposed skin.

‘Your scent is intoxicating, dearest’ he breathed, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear to expose the side of your face to him. You could not deny how seductive he could be, how tantalising his touch felt. But you would not be swayed from the promise he’d made.

‘The vow first’ you said somewhat nervously, and he smiled, nodding and keeping an arm around your torso as he picked up his book of stolen abilities and flicked through it, stopping in front of a binding vow.

‘Now, I vow that I will not make your Nen ability mine and steal it from you. It will remain yours. I vow I will not kill you, nor will I ask anyone else to do so for me. Should you respect the terms I have presented to you, you will leave this place unscathed within a day, with your power still in your hands. Should I fail to respect these terms, I will die on the spot. Do you accept?’ he said, and you tried to find any loophole that would allow him to kill you or steal your ability in his words, even though his fingers stroking your ribcage were distracting, but you could not find anything. You nodded.

‘I accept’ you said, and he picked up a small dagger from his pocket, shushing you when you gasped and tried to get away. He pricked his thumb, showing you the small droplet of blood that was forming on the surface of his skin.

‘I won’t hurt you. I just need a drop of your blood. Your hand, if you will, darling. Or the vow won’t work’ he said, and you gingerly let him lift one of your hands and prick your thumb. He pressed yours against his, and you could see the aura surrounding your fingers working. You relaxed a little when he threw the dagger away, supposedly letting it pierce the wood of the highest bookshelf so you could not reach it in an attempt to attack him.

He wiped your thumb and his with a handkerchief, tossing it on the table and letting the grimoire disappear.

‘I hope I was successful in easing your worries. Now, where were we?’ he murmured, round, pretty eyes heavy-lidded, lust-laden as they scanned your face. You felt as though you were in the lion’s den for the first time, or more fittingly, a small butterfly trapped in a spider web. Just waiting to be devoured.

He cupped your jaw, stroking your cheek with the pad of his thumb, leisurely taking his time in savouring you. Part of you wished he would just get it over and done with, another part of you, a shameful one, burnt at every action he took, at his stifling seduction. You might as well enjoy it and hope he was good at the very least, right? No one could blame you for it. Your survival was at stake, after all.

You stopped thinking altogether when his lips grazed your jaw, your cheek, the corner of your lips. He was slow and sensual in all of his movements, but there was something that slipped through the façade, something possessive about the way his fingers curled around your throat, trapping you in place as his lips pressed against yours.

They were soft. Soft and smooth, warm and demanding. You could not deny the pull they had. You were coaxed into seeking them out whenever he pulled away slightly, pressing them against you again, more and more passionately each time, almost manipulating you into wanting him to get rougher.

And he did. His teeth sank into the pliant flesh of your bottom lip, pulling lightly, and his tongue was quick to soothe the sting, taking advantage of your little gasp to slip in your mouth and lay siege on your tongue. It was all akin to a game of pull and push with him. He wheedled you into letting go more and more with each time he gave you something only to take it away and revel in how you sought it again. Just as he had presented the illusion of you wanting this from him, he was now making you act on it as though you had always desired nothing more.

Until your fingers were tangled in his soft raven hair, pulling lightly at it, and you were seeking his soft lips and their taste reminiscent of rich red wine to suck on his bottom lip languidly. Until his teeth nipping at your bottom lip had you mewl in his mouth.

‘Eager, are we? How sweet’ he breathed, and you felt the trap snap, the mechanism trapping you like a helpless doe caught by pincers. All of his teasing had led to this, to making you see that you wanted him, wanted this to happen. And as much as you could deny it, your actions spoke loudly, and your body’s reaction did too. The knowledge that you were already turned on and that if he decided to reach between your thighs he would see just how responsive you were to him made the mortification burn in your chest.

You had wanted to keep your dignity and show your distaste for what was happening, but he had managed to reduce you to a docile doll just by kissing your lips. And his sardonic smile and eyes told you that you were right in that assumption.

And before you could hope to collect yourself, his mouth was on your throat, hungry but still slow, leaving you wanting more. He licked a long stripe along your pulse, making it shoot up as his fingers curled around the roots of your hair and pulled, exposing your vulnerable neck to him. You could not restrain the whimper that escaped you as he kissed and started sucking a sensitive spot between your neck and your shoulder, sure to leave a mark to remind you of what you had done, of your flexible morals, as he’d called them.

His fingers clutched your side, wandered down to your hip and the swell of your ass, grazed your thigh and snaked under your skirt to grope at the plump flesh of your backside. You were too lost in the pleasure of his mouth and tongue on your throat to truly consider your situation and who it was that was touching you so possessively, so greedily. If anything, it only stoked the fire within you.

‘Good girl’ he crooned, sending a jolt to your clit with the dirty praise. You squirmed on his lap, eliciting a soft chuckle from him and a graze of his thumb over your stiff nipple. You were wearing a simple satin shirt with a flimsy bralette, and the friction of the material was torturous against your nipples.

Chrollo pulled the shirt out of your skirt, making quick work of the buttons with one hand whilst the other was still kneading your ass and his mouth was still on your throat. He slipped the garment off you, pulling away to observe you. You gulped, averting your eyes at the sight of his hungry stare, quivering as his fingers ghosted your sternum, your ribcage, the swell of your breasts.

‘You are so beautiful, darling’ he murmured, his lips softly pressing against your collarbone, his fingers deftly lowering the straps of your bralette and unhooking it. He tossed it aside, groaning softly as his hand cupped your breast, kneading it in his fingers, pinching your nipple and rolling it between thumb and index finger.

You tried to stifle a moan, to which he seemed to take offense, because he stopped and bit down hard on your shoulder, making you whine in the process.

‘I want to hear you. The more you stifle your voice, the longer I will tease you. Understood?’ he said, and you meekly nodded, only to speak up when he gave you a meaningful glance.

‘Yes’ you hissed, and he seemed pleased, because he hummed and made you arch your back so that his tongue could lick your stiff nipple and flick it. You were careful not to stifle the small whine that left your lips, and he rewarded you by sucking your nipple in his mouth, scraping it with his teeth and making you cling onto his shoulders.

He bunched up your skirt up to your waist, leaving you exposed as he trailed his fingers to your inner thighs, in a silent request to spread your legs. You were not wholly aware of how swiftly you complied, you only knew that when he first cupped you through your panties, your eyelids fluttered and a soft moan poured out of you.

‘You are soaked for me, pet. Your morals do not seem to extend to your body. Try as you might, you want this, and you cannot lie to me’ he purred, dragging his fingers and pressing against your clit, holding you still when you squirmed away from his touch. You let out a loud moan, your hips jerking. He pulled your panties to the side, rubbing your clit and dipping two fingers inside you, curling them, making your head drop on his shoulder as you moaned against his neck, enveloped by the scent of his cologne.

‘That’s it. That’s my good girl. If I knew how much you liked being fingered on my lap, I would have done this much sooner. No matter. I’ll make it up to you, darling’ he breathed, voice slightly strained as though he was holding back something much more primal from taking over, but you were too dazed to take much notice of all the filth he was spewing and how he sought to humiliate you further, because his touch admittedly felt like heaven. His willowy fingers inside you kept pressing against all the right places, and you could not help but clench around them, your hips twitching into his hand every time his palm rubbed against your sensitive clit.

You were lost in the motion of his fingers as you rutted against his hand, shamelessly chasing your own high as he continued to praise you and kiss you, rewarding every sound you made with a curl of his fingers that had you melting in his arms. Until you could not take it anymore.

‘Can’t- ‘m close’ you huffed out, breathing erratic, chest heaving as his fingers pumped inside you, and he hummed, licking your neck and sucking on it again.

‘Cum for me, pet’ he urged, and your eyes scrunched up, a lewd moan ripping through you as you tensed up on his thigh, sound fading away as you came undone.

You slumped on him, breathing heavily, your cunt throbbing around his fingers as he lazily fucked you through your aftershocks, your hair clinging to the back of your neck from the light sheen of sweat that had formed there.

‘Suck’ you heard, and dazed as you were, you obediently opened your mouth when he presented his fingers, sucking and licking the pads of his fingers, tasting yourself. You had to cling to him as he stood up and walked over to the bed, lowering you on it and observing you as he unbuttoned his shirt and pulled it off.

There was no denying it, he was attractive. Lean but toned, with graceful abs adorning his flat stomach, jutting collarbones and well-defined biceps; with the way the candlelight danced on his pale skin, making it glow with soft orange hues, he truly looked like he might be a fantasy of sorts.

You supposed he looked like a fallen angel, as his name suggested. Like the Alexandre Cabanel painting of the fallen angel, dangerous but so tempting. It was unfair that he should also be able to make you come undone so easily, when you had vowed to not give him the satisfaction.

He smirked at you, undoing his belt, slipping it through the hooks, catching you staring first at the clear dampness on his thigh, then at the evident bulge of his erection.

You supposed he would fuck you now. If you were being honest, you had thought he wouldn’t have taken such interest in your pleasure, but now, it seemed only fitting: it was all to aid his game, to stroke his ego in humiliating you by showing you how you could not abide by your morals, how you’d moaned and whined to be touched by those blood-stained hands.

Instead, he kept his trousers on, only going so far as to unbutton them to give himself more space. He seemed... quite gifted in that area too, you thought with a grimace. Was there anything that did not favour him? It seemed that fortune graced the wicked in that nonsensical world, because he had it all.

He caged you underneath him, his hair tickling your face as he drew you into a heated kiss, his hands roving down your body, fingertips digging into your hips, tongue pressing against yours.

He was quick to unzip your skirt and slide it off you along with your panties, leaving you completely exposed whilst he still retained his power by not undressing completely.

‘You were so precious squirming on my lap, so good for me. You deserve a reward’ he crooned against your ear in that soft, melodious voice of his, making you swallow heavily as you wondered what he might do to you now.

He did not leave you guessing for long. His mouth traced your collarbone, his head lowering as he licked your sternum and left a dark lovebite above your nipple, another reminder that would bring you back to this room, to what he was doing to you for the following week. He seemed intent on marking you whenever he could, and until he had littered your chest with purple brushstrokes, until you were but a moaning mess, he refused to move on, no matter how much you tried to squirm away and whimper at some of the harshest ones on your ribcage.

He continued to kiss down your stomach, massaging your thighs, cupping your ass and lowering his head to kiss your thighs. You were rendered breathless and unable to stop thrashing and moaning as he sucked another lovebite on your inner thigh, keeping you pinned down and at his mercy. You just wanted him to bury his head between your thighs, you were close, close to begging for it, were it not for your pride. Were it not for who he was.

Fortunately, you did not need to stoop that low. His tongue flattened and dragged up your cunt, tensing and flicking your clit from underneath as he got to the top, tearing a breathless moan from you.

‘You taste so sweet’ he huffed out against your skin, blowing cold air on your clit and making you whine and scoot away. He dragged you back, a wicked light in his stormy eyes as he glanced at you and licked your clit, rolling it on his tongue.

‘F-fuck’ you breathed, your hands shooting to his hair, pulling lightly, trying to ground yourself as he continued to toy with your clit, sucking it and licking it fervently. You could not hold yourself. If he was amazing with his fingers, he was incredible with his tongue. Judging by how he seemed to have a way with words, you should not have been surprised that he was so maddeningly good at pleasuring with his tongue. It was making you lose your mind.

Even if you had tried, you would not have been able to restrain the need to keen, whine and moan every time he sucked your clit, dipped his tongue inside you or drew figures around your clit.

He was insatiable as he flung your thighs on his shoulders, seemingly unbothered with the way you trapped his head and rutted against his face. In fact, he seemed thrilled to follow the movement of your hips, giving you more and more until you were babbling and keening incoherently, unable to even speak.

‘Fuck- Ch- Chrollo...’ you whined longingly, unable to realise your slip of moaning his name in the throes of pleasure. But he heard you loud and clear, because he groaned, and his name on your lips only seemed to spur him on. In a few seconds, he was sucking on your clit, giving you more pleasure than you’d ever thought was even possible, until the torturous knot in your stomach snapped and released and you came with a cry, tears prickling the corners of your eyes, your hair tousled and messy on the pillow, your muscles tensing, toes curling and fingers clawing at the sheets.

You kept your eyes closed for a while, easing into your breathing, feeling as though your body had completely melted, feeling as though you couldn’t even move.

‘You can still take my cock, can’t you, darling? After all, I have made you feel so good. It’s only fair. Do not worry, you will not mind. You seem to love being fucked by the one you spoke of with such revulsion. It’s quite endearing, watching you struggle with your morals’ he crooned, and you opened your eyes, watching him stroke his cock a few times. It was quite long and fairly thick, slightly tilted upwards.

You were too fucked out to consider his taunting, but you knew he was right. Both mindsets could not peacefully coexist in your mind: how could you be so willing and find so much pleasure in someone like him? How could you hate him and love what he was doing to you? It might have been an involuntary physical reaction, but you should have had more resolve, more restraint. Otherwise, what did that say about you?

Chrollo lined himself between your legs, rubbing his cock along your labia, on your clit, instantly making those thoughts fade in the haze of pleasure as you let out a soft sigh and automatically tried to hook your legs around his slender hips.

He gripped your thigh, pushing the tip of his cock inside you, easily slipping inside inch by inch with how shamefully wet you were, and yet, you already felt so full, like he was stretching you to the limit. You clawed at his back, raking your nails across his shoulder blades, gasping and whimpering along with his soft moan.

‘Fuck. So tight... so wet. Such a perfect little cunt’ he huffed out, his lips parting in pleasure, dark eyebrows furrowing. You tried to steady your breathing, tried to relax your muscles to accommodate his size, clung to his shoulders for support.

He wiped a tear from the corner of your eye, continuing to push inside you, albeit slowly, until he was buried to the hilt. You clenched around him, and the soft groan he let out made your stomach drop with a surge of pleasure. He bottomed out and slammed back in, tearing a broken moan from you as he set a ruthless pace, his eyes darkening with lust and the slip of his mask, hunger palpable in his every movement and the way he sought to fully claim you.

He lifted your legs higher up around his waist, his fingers tightening around your throat, not pressing on the front, leaving you room to breathe but making you even more dizzy than you already were.

His pelvis kept slapping against your clit, drawing out whines and pants from you, and with every thrust, he seemed to grow more accustomed to where you liked to be touched, because as soon as his cock pressed against your g-spot, your back arched and your head thrashed from side to side, a lewd moan echoing in the room as you clamped around him.

‘There, huh? Let me do it again, darling’ he breathed, one hand lifting both your legs and bending them at the knees, letting you rest them against his chest as he rammed into you, hitting the same spot again and again, relentlessly building the pressure inside you, making you see stars.

‘Mhh- too much... Chrollo’ you whined, trapped underneath him, feeling as though you might implode if he didn’t stop- or if he stopped, for what it was worth.

‘Moan my name again, pet. Let me hear how filthy it sounds on your lips’ he grunted, the sound of skin slapping against skin both enticing and dirty as he continued to fuck you into the mattress.

When you didn’t reply, suddenly aware of how you were moaning his name, reinforcing how you knew- wanted it to be him to fuck you at that moment, he let out a breathless laugh.

‘Looks as though you might need some convincing’ he said, slowing down and eventually slipping out of you, letting your legs down. You whimpered, desire clawing at your gut, your cunt clenching around nothing as you opened your bleary eyes and set them on him. He gave you a smirk, flipping you on your stomach and lifting your hips, spreading your knees with his and pushing on your lower back to make you arch into him. You lifted yourself on your elbows and heard his tongue click against his teeth condescendingly before he pushed your head against the mattress and smacked your ass with a resounding slap.

You yelped, biting down on your lower lip, mortification once again mingling with pleasure as he pushed his cock back inside you, letting out a soft groan.

‘Use your hands one more time and I will tie them up behind your back. It will feel better like this. For me- and for you’ he said, fisting your hair and gripping your hip, starting to pound into you from behind once again.

It did feel better like this. Deeper. Unbearable. He stimulated your clit with every thrust, the tip of his cock kept pressing against your cervix, and you did not know if you could bear it much longer.

You found the bridge of your nose damp with tears, and struggled to recognise your own voice in the filthy moans you were letting out. It was humiliating and it was impossibly pleasurable, and the mix was somewhat addicting, tainting. It was ruining every shred of sanity left in your brain.

Until he got what he wanted. Because it seemed as though he always did. He could steal anything, including his name from your lips said with such want and bliss that had you not been fucked stupid, you would have wanted to die.

‘Ahh- Chr- Chrollo! Fuck. Gonna cum’ you screamed, sobbing, clenching around him, getting even closer to a mind-shattering orgasm with every moan and groan he graced you with.

‘Good girl. My girl. Mine. You love this, mh? Tell me how much you love this. Tell me how badly you want to cum all over my cock’ he urged, voice possessive and low, and you could not stop yourself, could not do anything but acquiesce, because you needed- needed to cum.

‘Yes! Please. Please let me cum. Please. Need it so bad’ you whined, sobbed even, desperate for reprieve, hoping he would have mercy on you, hoping he would let you finish. His fingers reached under you to rub at your clit, and you could hardly contain a sob of wild pleasure and the jolt of your hips.

‘Since you asked so nicely. Go on, pet, cum for me’ he huffed out, still thrusting inside you at that unrelenting pace, and as though he had power over your own body, you felt the release hit you like a wave of overwhelming pleasure that made your vision white and your ears fill with static.

He was quick to cum with a breathy moan as you squeezed his cock through your orgasm, holding you tightly as he spilled inside you. He continued to push in and out slowly, until you stopped throbbing and squeezing around him.

‘Fuck’ he breathed, letting you collapse on the bed and doing the same next to you. You both stayed silent for a minute or two, catching your breath, feeling the cool air on your feverish skin.

‘Let me clean you up, darling’ he said, and you didn’t have the strength to object as he got up and walked away, the sound of his footsteps quiet as you kept your eyes closed until he came back with a glass of water and a wet towel, his trousers back on, but still shirtless. He wiped your inner thighs gently, with more care than you wanted to admit someone like him could be capable of, and carefully lifted you up so you could drink the water he’d brought you.

You took small gulps, finding it felt amazing trickling down your dry, raw throat after all that crying and screaming. He only put the glass on the nightstand when you had finished it all.

‘Thanks’ you said absent-mindedly, your mind slowly coming back to you in coherent thoughts as you attempted to cover yourself with the duvet. He gave you a languid smile, tucking your hair away from your face and lying next to you.

But it was finally over now. You could leave. Your deal had revealed itself to be better than you wanted to admit, but now, you were finally free. You could put this all behind you.

You tried to get up and gather your clothes, but your body felt like a ragdoll. He had really done a number on you.

‘Careful, dearest. You should wait a little’ he said, smiling at you, his eyes soft, his expression unreadable. You let out a shuddering breath.

‘Want to get... my clothes, and leave’ you said, getting up and hastily putting on your clothes, feeling a little dizzy. You walked back towards the bed, retrieving your underwear and your skirt, putting them on, almost falling were it not for his arms catching you and holding you still.

You felt weird. It had surely been intense, but so intense that your vision was slowly darkening around the edges and your arms and legs felt as heavy as lead?

He pulled you on his lap, and you protested weakly when he started to stroke your hair and kissed your forehead.

‘No- you said I would be free after this. Let me leave’ you slurred, and he shushed you, tenderly stroking your back in soothing gestures.

‘Oh, darling, I never said you would be free’ he said softly, still holding you. You blinked, confused, his face blurry as you stared at him.

‘You said- I’d be leaving this place- with my power... un...scathed within... a day. What d’you do to me?’ your words were garbled together, slurred like you were drunk. And you felt so heavy and tired.

‘I put a few sleeping pills in the water I gave you. Nothing that will harm you, so don’t worry your pretty little head. I don’t need to steal your power if I keep you. You will leave unscathed, but I never said you would leave alone. You should really pay more attention to the words of a vow, my love’ he said, stroking your hair, his soft voice lulling you into sleep despite how horrified you were in your mind. He had tricked you. Had no plans of freeing you. You hadn’t considered he might keep you. Hadn’t considered the depth of his obsession with you. Hadn’t considered there was more than one reason why he had kept you captive.

‘I cannot be parted from you, my love. Your place is by my side. Now close your eyes. Sleep. We have a long journey ahead of us’ he said gently, soothingly. And you could not help but do as he said, your eyelids growing heavier and heavier, your thoughts muddying and fading away along with your consciousness.

Part II here

Part III here

#hunter x hunter #hxh #hxh x reader #chrollo lucilfer #chrollo smut #yandere chrollo #hxh chrollo #chrollo x reader #chrollo hunter x hunter #chrollo x you #chrollo x y/n #chrollo lucilfer x reader #yandere chrollo x reader #yandere chrollo lucilfer #yandere hxh #yandere x reader #chrollo lucilfer smut

[imaginepirates]

How They Confess

For the anon who wanted to know how the characters would confess their feelings, and how they would react if the reader confessed first.

This includes Jack, Will, Lizzie, James, Beckett, and Barbossa.

Jack:

Jack isn’t one to make a grand show of things, and if he’s to confess, it’ll be in a moment of simplicity. You’ll be curled up together in his cabin, warm and drowsy, soft light shining out from the lanterns. He can only admit it to you when he’s completely relaxed—he can hardly admit it to himself sometimes, how much he loves you. But he says it softly in your ear, and you’re more pleased than surprised, already tangled together in the sheets. Your brain’s a bit fuzzy anyway, and the full weight of it wouldn’t hit you until the next morning. But by then he’s up and out on deck, and you’re left with the knowledge that he really does love you after all. 

If you’re the first to confess, Jack would be taken aback. He doesn’t expect you to love him, not really, so it comes as a bit of a shock to his system. It would take him some time to process, too, and he has to do some serious introspection before he can say it back. Love is a heavy thing in his eyes, and he’s not about to mess it up. 

Will:

Though he can be bashful, Will is completely unashamed of his feelings for you. If you’re of the same social station, he’ll simply tell you how he feels by taking you out for a walk along the oceanfront. If you’re too far above him on the social ladder, he’ll keep his feelings to himself, though they shine through with all the things he does for you to make life easier and more convenient. 

If you speak up first, Will’s a little embarrassed, but in a good way. He feels a little guilty for not saying anything, but quickly gets over it; he’s just happy you feel the same, and that you’re comfortable enough in your affection to tell him. He likes that you can own it—not everyone is attracted to blacksmiths. Besides, hearing the words from you is just the confidence boost he needs. 

Elizabeth:

Elizabeth wants to make her confession as perfect as she can. She does it over a nice dinner, just the two of you, and she’s pulled out the candles for the occasion. She’s a romantic at heart, and wants to have the right atmosphere in which to tell you how she feels. She’s really one for the aesthetic. It’s honestly rather cute, the effort she puts in, and you’d be lying if you said you didn’t enjoy it. 

If you’re the first to confess, Lizzie is just delighted. She has butterflies for days, and be prepared for all the secret little messages dictated by high society. I’m talking fan-signals, flower language, the whole package. Even though she loves you earnestly, and even though you know both know it, she’s absolutely going to make the most of the courtship process and all it entails.

James:

We all know how awkward James is about confessing his feelings. He’s been rehearsing for days, and is almost too anxious to do it in the first place. He’s afraid of coming off too strong, and overanalyzes every interaction you’ve had together. He ensures the setting is both pleasant and proper, and though it may seem a little stiff, you’re aware the confession is genuine. That being said, the moment you indicate the feeling is mutual, his composure cracks and he gives you that huge smile he tries so hard to hide. 

If you beat him to it, he’d be shocked. Not only is he surprised that you made the first move, which is so expected of him, but he honestly had no idea you felt that way about him. It takes him a good long time to find the right words to tell you he feels the same, and you’ll have to be patient as he recovers from his astonishment. 

Beckett:

This man is never, ever, going to admit to loving you. He won’t even let himself think about his affection for you. In all truth and honesty, he’s terrified of his feelings, seeing them as a weakness that someone will figure out and exploit. He’s also afraid you won’t feel the same way. How could you? It would take a serious moment of vulnerability—either when something awful happens to you, or when you show him honest tenderness. Either way, it’s completely unexpected and almost unbelievable…until you see the fear in his eyes and realize it’s the truth. 

If you make the first move, Beckett doesn’t think you’re serious. He’s willing to play along, but he figures you want something from him. So he brushes it off, though your words linger in his mind for days after. He’s probably in his office doing paperwork when it hits him that you were being completely serious, and he’s absolutely overcome by it. He makes sure to explain himself when he sees you next; he just didn’t think someone could feel that way about him. 

Barbossa:

Barbossa is, if nothing else, a gentleman at heart. Again, this will likely be a dinner confession, though Hector isn’t nearly as anxious as Elizabeth might be. He’s been around a while, and he’s really only going to say anything if he’s fairly certain you’re interested. He also isn’t offended if you reject—he completely understands why someone wouldn’t want to be with him. He’s relaxed about the whole affair so you never have to feel nervous over any of it. If it turns out you are interested, he’s going to treat you with perfect curtesy and warm affection.

If you’re the first to say anything, Hector’s a bit smug. He might be slightly sheepish that you beat him to it, but overall, he’s happy to hear you say it. He’ll tease you over it in good humor, though he knows you can give as good as you get. He’s secretly happy to hear you say it because he’s insecure about his age. 

#potc #pirates of the caribbean #jack sparrow #elizabeth swann #will turner #james norrington #cutler beckett #hector barbossa #captain barbossa #jack sparrow x reader #james norrington x reader #will turner x reader #elizabeth swann x reader #cutler beckett x reader #hector barbossa x reader #preference #potc preferences

[dawn-in-neocity]

best friend (™️) wayv !

that’s just your bf, i’m sorry

kun

husband material wow. is so so sweet and gentle with you i’m jealous. casually does shit straight out of movies. like what do you mean he booked and planned the wholeee day for your birthday. absolutely melts when you show him the same affection. turns tomato red and can’t stop smiling. prefers calling over texting because he “just wants to hear your voice.” gives the warmest hugs.

ten

you’re each other’s person, simply put. your nr 1 hypeman. encourages you to do fun adventurous things when you doubt yourself. y’all are basically the human embodiment of my aesthetic pinterest boards. goes out of his way to impress you because he just thinks you’re the most interesting person in the world. half of your feed consists of pictures taken by him. keeps joking about getting a tattoo related to you.

winwin

the only man ever. subtly shows his love. like fixing your necklace if the clasp is in the front. or holding your hands in his when it’s cold. “i brought you this cupcake, it’s really good.” pays attention to small things. like when you were stressed about how messy your bathroom was so he just casually got you an organizer. gets flustered when you hug him or kiss his cheek. (he loves it though).

xiaojun

you guys are so sweet omg. has a special nickname for you. loves pinching your chin or stroking your cheek :(. has this dopey, dreamy smile on his face whenever he’s watching you be cute. which is always, you’re always cute to him. the first person to notice if you’re upset and will do anything and everything to help. dramatically serenades you with a spoon while you’re cooking together.

hendery

always has an arm slung over your shoulders. loves telling you stupid jokes in your ear when you’re meant to be serious. biter. just gets this impulse to stick his chompers in your shoulder. gets nervous and blanks sometimes bc of how attracted he is to you. sends you shirtless snaps with his cats™️. gets all happy and teases you when your friends refer to him as your boyfriend.

yangyang

you have sooo much fun together omd. no wonder you’re together 24/7. always keeps your go to snacks STOCKED in his place. never lets you pay for anything. thinks you're the funniest person on earth. like he swears spending time with you is an ab workout. he is down horrendous for you and is past the point of caring to hide it. keeps forgetting it's mutual tho so he nearly has a heart attack whenever you compliment him or kiss his cheek.

#wayv #nct #wayv scenarios #wayv fluff #wayv imagines #wayv reactions #wayv x reader #nct reactions #nct scenarios #nct imagines #wayv headcanons #wayv kun #wayv winwin #wayv ten #wayv hendery #wayv yangyang #wayv xiaojun #nct headcanons

[slut4thebroken]

Opposites Attract

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

Pairing | Jason Todd x reader

Summary | Jason in your hyperfeminine pink bedroom (and house lol)

Warnings | Reader isn’t infantalized she just likes feminine things lol, fluff, kissing, Jay being a big fat softie.

Words | 1.2 k

Notes | Honestly idk. I’m going through an aesthetic change rn and was struck with a vision one day lol. (Also this pic set is a direct result of there being literally no pictures or gifs of Jason 😭 I had to take matters into my own hands smh.)

Ao3 link | <3

Masterlist

You always loved when Jason came over. You loved his company of course, but mostly you just loved seeing him in your house, especially your room. 

There’s something almost comical about a six foot tall, burly, vigilante, who’s covered in scars and only wears dark clothes, standing amongst all of the baby pink and white, and the delicate silk and lace in your bedroom. He sticks out terribly, even in the rest of your house, and you can’t help but be amused by it everytime. 

You were sitting in bed with a book tonight, wearing a white babydoll nightie and hugging your teddy bear to your chest. When you heard a noise from outside your bedroom, you stiffened, your heart beating faster and harder in your chest. You strained your ears to listen and for a few seconds it was completely silent until you heard quiet footsteps. Before you could react your door was opening and you almost breathed a sigh of relief when you saw who it was. All of the anxiety quickly melted into happiness. 

“Jay!” You said excitedly, setting your book on the nightstand. 

“Hi, princess.” His hair was still a little damp and he was in casual clothes so he must’ve done some vigilante stuff tonight— a while ago you scolded him for tracking mud on your rug and getting blood on your sheets, and ever since then, you’ve demanded that he comes here completely clean. 

You set down the teddy bear and got up to greet him properly, with a hug and a kiss. His hands settled on your waist over the soft material of your dress and you placed your arms on his shoulders, standing up on your toes so he didn’t have to bend down so much. When he pulled back from the kiss, you whined quietly, making him chuckle. 

“You scared me.” You frowned. Even thought you gave him a key, you wished he’d knock because of how naturally quiet he always is. 

“I’m sorry, baby.” He murmured, giving you another quick kiss, making you forget all about that. “Should I be jealous?” He asked and you furrowed your brows, not understanding because you were still dazed from both kisses. But he explained once he saw your expression. “That you’re cuddling with another man in your bed.” You couldn’t keep the little giggle in, especially when he started smiling. 

“No.. It’s just Teddy.” You said through a quiet laugh. “Plus now that you’re here, I can cuddle with you instead.” You gave him a bright smile and he chuckled under his breath, bringing a hand up to brush your hair back, then cup your cheek. 

“I’m not intruding?” 

“Nope. I was just reading.”  

“Good cause I thought we could bake some cookies and have a movie night.” You were nodding eagerly before he could even finish. 

It was mostly him putting everything together and you following his every move with heart eyes. You wanted to help, but each time you tried, he sat you back down. He gave you the spoon for you to lick the extra batter from while he finished everything up. When the utensil was clean, he grabbed it and put it in the sink, then walked over to you and picked you up, taking you to the couch. You giggled as you clung to him— you didn’t think he’d drop you, it was just a habit that eased your nerves. When you were both on the couch with your legs over his, his hand on your thigh, and his arm around your shoulders, he leaned down and gave you a quick kiss. 

“I missed you, baby.” He rasped, making your cheeks heat up. 

“I saw you three days ago.” You chuckled breathlessly, even though you probably missed him more than he did. 

“And that was three days too long. What have you been up to, pretty girl?” He leaned down even farther and pressed soft kisses to your neck. You let out a shaky breath and gripped his shirt. 

“N-nothing… Just working on some hobbies.” You shrugged, getting a little sad. You wished you lived with him. You wished you could make dinner every night for both of you, clean up around the house, help him out of his clothes when he got home on days that he was particularly battered, give him a massage— and… anything else he might need— whenever he’s feeling stressed… You wanted it all. But you couldn’t have it, not yet at least. 

“Yeah?” He lightly nipped at your neck, making you let out a startled whimper. 

“Mhm.” You hummed, letting your eyes flutter shut. He kissed down your neck to your shoulder and slowly moved the fabric down to expose more skin. “Jay…” You said through a breath, trying not to get overwhelmed with the feeling of his lips on you. 

“Hm?” He moved to your collarbone now, slowly kissing across it to the center of your chest. 

“Need you.” You whined, starting to squirm. His hand started rubbing up and down your thigh, probably to soothe you, but it only got you more worked up. “Please?” You used the voice that always gets you what you want and he pulled back to look at you, letting out a heavy sigh as his lips curled into a small smile. 

“I can’t say no to you, princess.” You all but beamed in response, excited to get what you wanted. His hand started sliding up your leg until he gripped your hip, under the nightie, making your breath hitch. Leaning forward, he pressed a gentle kiss to your lips and smiled when you started squirming again. He never broke the kiss as he lifted your body and set you in his lap, straddling his legs. Both of his hands squeezed your hips, teasing the waistband of your panties, and yours moved to his hair, tugging lightly. 

Faintly, you heard a noise from the kitchen, but you couldn’t focus on it. When he pulled back, you whined and tried to kiss him again, but he placed a gentle hand on your neck as a warning. 

“I have to get the cookies, baby.”

“Let them burn, I don't care.” You were still squirming, trying to get friction and pleasure that he wouldn’t allow. 

“You say that now, but in half an hour you’ll be pouting about how you don’t have any cookies.” He chuckled, making you frown. He didn’t give you another chance to protest before he was lifting you off his lap and placing you back on the couch. You grabbed his hand when he started walking past you, looking up at him with pleading eyes and a pout. 

“You’re my good girl… you can wait just a little longer, can’t you?” You frowned and averted your gaze for a moment, then nodded. He gave you a soft smile as he cupped your cheek, running his thumb over your bottom lip. “Thank you, baby.” He said proudly, making you blush, then continued on toward the kitchen. You turned around and leaned your chin on the back of the couch to watch him. 

He looked so silly in your kitchen full of pink colors, towels with lace trim, and flower themed decor. But he looked even sillier wearing your pink oven mitts as he took the tray out of the oven. You bit back a smile as you watched him reach for a heart shaped spatula to put the cookies on a plate. 

Despite the incongruity in the delicate setting, he managed to blend in seamlessly, almost making the contrast appear natural. It was giving you even more proof that he belonged here— belonged with you. 

Taglist (join here)

@pedrisgatorade @lunyyx @faebirdie @idkdudsworld @nashja @rentaldarling @whydoyoucare866 @zurakoisanhornysimp @brooklynscherry-z @wartofart @deimks @n1ghtw1ngslvr @harleycao @baebeepeach @jayroytodd @zurakoisanhornysimp

#jason todd #jason todd x reader #jason todd fluff

[critterbitter]

HELLO HI ID LIKE TO ASK WHAT PROGRAM AND BRUSHES YOU USE CUZ IM LITTERALY EXPLODING EVERYTIME I SEE YOUR ART

actually actually... *pulls out whole stack of paper*...I have. a FEW,, a good few,, questions to ask. they are not many I swear 😇

OK SO FIRST OF ALL HOW DO YOU DRAW SO FAST???? everyday I log onto Tumblr I always see something new from you and I get very very happy. But then I start to question my own existence because not even I CAN SPEED RUN ART LIKE THAT. AND SO SPECTACULARLY TOO

Last question! how do you color and make it look so well?? just. How. I need to know. This is a CRY FOR HE-

anyway thank you for being one of my favorite artists that always feed my brain rot, pls keep making amazing art because like a little yamper I will follow behind and stay updated.

(Stands there)

Response and thoughts under cut!

First question! What art program I use!

Mostly procreate, along with a handful of brushes! (Specifically the Jing Set and some custom stuff, which is really just a circle brush with the shape changed to a square.)

Second question! How do i draw so much!

Okay so. I am. Ahhah. Unemployed,,,,? No, I do freelance illustration, but hmm. A studio job would be nice.

i graduated college last year and I’m very used to eight hour art shifts. The body sort of remembers to keep working, even though I no longer have storyboards or visdev homework to do.

Also. The hyperfixation is a deep vast tunnel I STILL have not seen the end of the light to, good golly. (I have dreams now about the kids committing shenanigan crimes. I wake up in cold sweat and write them down in a journal. It’s like being the mouthpiece to an angry god.)

So the overall gist is: I was trained to be a storyboard artist with a visdev background, and I’m using that higher education to draw funny muppets because my brain’s funny.

I also DO have a queue, and I’ve been treating this as a sort of inktober project. I am definitely going to slow down soon though! Maybe. Hopefully. Ah… (sheepishly drops my kofi here)

Third question! How do i color!

I. I, uh. I dont know man the coloring demons have a grip on my soul and i just go along for the ride. But also, if it helps, i prefer to limit my pallets to only a few colors at a time. Lighting is king, so if you can figure out if you want to focus on either on your lights or shadows, you’ll have a much easier time composing. That, and symbolic colors— idk, something hits different about art drenched in gold with a tiny hint of a man staring into the blinding horizon, or a green leafy environment with a single dot of artificial red. I also like using blue and purple for shadows, and I’m a big fan of muting colors with only one or two that pop— one of the reasons why I was so attracted to submas in the first place is because from a design aesthetic, they’re both super funny muppet men AND really cool train guys that have a limited pallet and thematic apparel.

Overall response! THANK YOU SO MUCH. This goes out to a BUNCH of people who sent me inbox queries— sorry for not responding, it’s a tad overwhelming because some of them are story questions even I don’t really know will go yet, and others are words of praise and I’m selfish and like scrolling through the inbox to look at them when I feel down. I am more of an artist who sits in the corner and sprouts like a potato rather then a branching vine who socializes, but I really do see people’s responses and they make me go :)))))

Okay ramble over. Thanks for coming to the soapbox, and good luck on creating!

#critterbitter #ask #mailbox

[reallyromealone]

Title: tattoo dates

Pairing: dabi x keigo

Fandom My hero Academia

Warnings: baby reader, single dad Dabi, no quirk au, fluff

☁️🐟☁️🐟☁️🐟☁️🐟☁️🐟☁️🐟☁️🐟☁️🐟☁️🐟☁️

Don't be the step dad, be the dad who stepped up.

The sound of summer could be heard in the early morning of Tokyo, the cool air refreshing for Keigo as he stepped into the small tattoo parlor and taking in all the art on the walls. It was actually quite nice... The parlors he looked at online seemed to try and look more badass but this one was organised and incredibly clean "you're my 8:30, right? Keigo Takami?" What he wasn't expecting based on the aesthetic of the parlor was a black haired man covered head to toe with tattoos and piercings, a loose fitting worn tank top that looked intentionally worn out and a pair of black cargo pants and god Keigo was thankful he was wearing sunglasses as he noticed a feint outline.

"That's me~ thanks for fitting me in so early!"

"Yeah, whatever... You wanted a back tattoo right? Do you have a picture?" Dabi was tired, his kid was sleeping in the other room as it was too early to take him to daycare today and the little guy wasn't feeling well so he didn't want him far away "so serious ~ trying to be all tough for me?" Keigos charm was not working as Dabi rolled his eyes "get on the table and take off your shirt" the black haired man said as Keigo pouted but sent him the reference as their phones touched, hopping on the table and removing his shirt.

"Wings?"

"Red ones" hawks said as he rested his cheek on his fore arm, arms crossed over one another relaxed as he felt the other prepare the tattoo and sanitize his back "what shade?" Dabi asked softly as he prepared the tattoo pen "a bright red...crimson almost"

Dabi was focused, the mirror infront of the table, full length and clean as crystal thus giving Keigo a full view of his tattoos arms flexing under the florescent lights "your parlor is much different the others" Keigo said breaking the silence as the needle hit his skin "yeah, gotta keep things clean..." He said simply, Keigo noting how everything was kept at least 3 feet off the floor or locked away.

Music played softly in the background as Dabi worked away "so what do you do for fun?"

"Don't have much time for hobbies" Dabi said simply, the detail he was putting into it was impressive especially the price the other was paying "really? How come?" Keigo asked curiously and the black haired man looked at him from the mirror "being a dad doesn't give much free time"

"You're a dad?"

"Yeah, eight month old... He's sleeping in the other room right now" it was rather early Keigo thought, having booked out of hours for security reasons "I see..."

The two worked for another hour and a half till Keigo was given a break, looking at the work so far he was quite impressed as Dabi went to the other room to check on the kid "hope you don't mind, he's pretty chill so he won't cause issue"

Ok, why was this man so attractive holding a kid? What the fuck.

Keigo tried not to look flustered as the tiny baby looked back sleepily, drinking his bottle calmly before being set in his play pen that was off to the side "normally I don't keep kid stuff here..." (Name) babbled softly as he played with his toys, fully content doing his own thing as dad was fairly close "you ready to continue?"

By the end of the session, Keigo smiled at the babe who was vibing "your total will be 900" the detail on the wings were insane, best work the other has done as Keigo smiled "thanks for being normal... Most places freaked out when they met me"

"Who are you?" Dabi asked blankly and Keigo looked startled but smiled "just an actor, ya know?" Dabi shrugged as the actor paid for his tattoo, (name) snuggling into his dad's arms as the actor left.

But that wouldn't be for long.

Keigo showed up for another tattoo, though this one would have to be in phases as (name) had a doctor's appointment "yeah, he has teeth growing in... So gotta make sure it's going alright" (name) was chewing on a cold teething ring as Keigo booped his forehead, the babe looking confused but didn't do much else.

"A date?" Dabi raised an eyebrow as Keigo leaned over the counter "yeah, I found a good restaurant and it has a kids menu... Maybe mashed potatoes for the big guy over there" (name) looked up as he was chewing on his dad's fingers "you know what a date means right? Were a package deal, he comes first" dabi was deathly serious and Keigo smiled "absolutely"

"Then wine and dine me pretty boy"

#dabi x Keigo #hawks x dabi #male reader #x male reader #fluff #baby reader #mha x male reader #mha x reader #bnha x male reader #bnha x reader #anime x male reader #anime x reader

[hwan-g]

I WAS ALL OVER HER. (bang chan)

pair. ex soldier! chris x fem! reader | genre. attraction at first sight, bartender mc, angst, smut | warnings. smoking, profanity, mentions of trauma, mental struggle, flawed characters, alcohol consumption, use of pet names, sexual thoughts, unprotected sex, dirty talk, cunnilingus | word count. 5.7k

synopsis. you get off exactly at two o’clock every night. chris is patient—he drinks, and watches. you don’t look very happy where you are. he wants to change that, wants to know why. he’s not happy, either. but he could be, maybe. with you. for you.

Every man in there has been flirting with you.

You appear oblivious to it, and maybe that’s exactly it—a pretense, a hoax, because this is how you pay the bills and keep your job, and now Chris sees you under a different light, no more the deer in the headlights, but rather the car heading straight for the poor animal, foot on the gas, unyielding.

Not quite so innocent, and nothing about this place is. Lee Minho’s own bar, his pride and joy, bleeding reds and yellows, a jukebox from the late eighties bought at an auction placed aesthetically by the window wall with the neon sign and the street lamps outside. It’s all very purposeful, very strategic. A house of cards, if you ask the man sitting at the bar, sporting a whiskey-on-the-rocks in his strong hand, but what isn’t? Everything collapsing, all at once, constantly—he’s seen that, too, a thousand times.

His rib cage feels restricting, his breath hitches. You’re bending over the ice cooler, and he can clearly see the trace of your underwear underneath the black linen skirt. Your ass curves deliciously, and his palms are suddenly itchy. No, Chris is no different than the men polluting this establishment, nor has he ever claimed to be. He’ll show you a good time if you’re up for it, but he won’t beg, won’t even pick up the courage to flirt his way into that sinful fucking skirt. Black suits you.

He doesn’t stand a chance. And he’s not a creep, not for the most part, at least.

He’s been a regular, though. You know his name and he knows yours. He heard about your grandma passing and that one time your car broke down in the middle of nowhere and you had no one to call except for your boss. He almost volunteered that night; almost opened his stupid mouth, muttered something he would never be able to take back—you can call me, I’ll always come—but he didn’t, because there had also been a boyfriend for a while back then, too. Tall and lanky, covered in tattoos and bad decisions. Chris knows all about those, but what he didn’t know—

What you saw in that guy. How he took you home once and then kept taking you, in multiple ways he supposed, burying between your legs, kissing your lips and laying a claim on you everytime he got the goddamn chance—he’s glad the fucker’s gone, but not glad for the broken heart and the tears. Oh, and the shots. You’d been too drunk to stand, could barely talk. Still, Chris wasn’t the one to take care of you then, either, though he’d jumped out of his chair the moment he saw you swaying. Hands as fists, teeth clenched, he saw Minho carry you to the back, then called for Jisung to come and close the bar for the night.

He’d been an observer his whole life. And when he wasn’t—when he showed up, took initiative, buzzed his hair and made a choice—it all went to shit. Two years of goddamn sand, sunburns, bullets scratching past his thick fucking head, innocent civilians dying before his eyes, his own arms raising a rifle, pointing, threatening. Killing. Lots of that, mostly that, and orders. So many fucking orders he could recite them in his sleep, if he had any of that. Insomnia was a hell of a bitch, as it turns out, and she’ll see you know that. She’ll make sure of it.

Sergeant, take your comrade and go back! This is an order from your captain. Do you fucking hear me? It was a suicide mission, for fuck’s sake—

But enough of that. He does a lot of remembering on his own. He’s there to forget about it all for a while. He’s there to look at you, to observe your hands fixing other men drinks, to fantasize having those same hands wrapped around his cock, to feel how they would work him over the edge, how much or how little you’d squeeze, if you’d take him in your mouth, how your lips would pucker to suck him in, his head falling back, breathing rugged, his entire body in full attention, very similar to his training days, mud up to his knees—

It’s only been six months. You’ll go back to normal in no time, they’d said. If you have any concerns, don’t hesitate to give us a call on our office number. He had a lot of those. Concerns. Mostly about the dead people behind closed eyelids, how they moved and moaned his name even though he never told them, or just the simple fucking question of his mind—it’s all jumbled now, it replays memories like a broken record, and cannot seem to shut the fuck up, not even for a single moment. Chris feels like he’s drowning, most of his days. Neck deep in water, surrounded by bulletproof glass, no way in, no way out. What to do about that?

Leave a message after the beep, apparently. We’ll get to you as soon as we can.

He’d like to flirt with you. He’d like to say one thing and then keep pouring out, keep saying, keep talking, if only to have your eyes on him, to keep your gaze trained on him, to have your undivided attention. But to hear your voice reply back, to invest in him, to listen and have words for him. He craves your words, the way your mouth would curve around the syllables, how your lipstick will coat your sentences, so that when they travel they reach their destination sweeter than ever.

Chris is starved. Of many things, yes, but of what you have to offer him. Of what he wants to ask of you. It’s a specific hunger, wanting you, one that’s hard to shake. So, he doesn’t. He couldn’t possibly.

The men continue ogling. He considers it a mercy to let them—to his friend, but to you, also. ‘Heaven knows I’m miserable now’ starts playing on the old piece of junk in the corner, the guy responsible for the choice of song going back to his booth, cherry cigarette glinting amongst a rain of color. Chris tries not to smoke in front of you, you’ve probably inhaled enough of it to last you a lifetime, but it’s times like these, times he can’t seem to stand himself—

“Really, Al?” You ask the record player, and the man shrugs, lifts his glass your way.

“It’s one of those days, doll.”

It is, indeed.

“And you?”

It takes Chris a full five seconds to realize you’re addressing him. Why? Which God should he thank? And how to form coherent sentences when your eyes are piercing through him like a million knives? He wraps his hand tighter around his drink, hoping you don’t notice how undone, how completely in your web he is now—a caving man, ready to fall on his knees for you. You could do anything you want, you could spit at him for all he cared, kick his sorry ass out, as long as you didn’t take your eyes away.

His voice comes out raspy, distorted. Alien. A false sense of confidence.

“What about me, sweetheart?”

Your cheeks are flushed, your eyebrows knit together as if you don’t quite understand what he’s asking. His eyes travel to where your shirt has ridden up to reveal the soft skin of your waist, though he doesn’t let himself indulge too long. Chris would love to have you under him, to guide your hands over his bullet wounds and his own down the hills and mountains of you. But how to get you away from here, how to take a girl like you from this impenetrable tower he’s locked you in. He laid down the bricks, he cemented you in place to keep you out of his life, when all he’s ever wanted to do was let you take over everything, let you annihilate, destroy, build anew.

He really can’t fucking stand himself.

“You look sad, Chris.”

I’m sorry. His fingers search for the pack in his jacket, slipping a stick between his teeth, bringing the flame close, and inhaling. You blink and busy yourself with wiping down the counter, but he can tell you don’t like it when he smokes, him in particular, a question mark he’s burning to know the answer to. Do you care? Do you care like I do?

How simple it’d be, to be sad. A state that will pass, chemistry of the brain that can easily be overturned, switched with a quick fix of serotonin. It almost makes him laugh. No, what he is—wretched, forlorn. A rotting corpse somewhere in the Middle East. If he were to guess, he came back, some fucking semblance of him, only for you. And he’s fucking it up, he’s letting you slip right through his very hands. You’re single now, but for how long? How fucking long will it take for him to grow the balls and tell you straight up?

Tear me apart and put me back together. I’ve been in love with you since the moment I saw you. I’m all fucking wrong now, but you can fix me. God, I’ll let you. Say the word and I’ll let you.

His lips quirk, a bitterness enveloping him. “Yeah? Is that what I am?”

You turn your back to leave a beer to the man on the other side of the bar, and he misses you already. Chris obliges you when you look ready to make small talk with him. He’s even cracked a joke or two on occasion, just to feel that constricting feeling in his chest again, the one that warms his bones and makes his ears ring. The sound of your laughter is intoxicating, unlike anything he’s ever heard, but much like a bomb. Devastating. Impossible to ignore. Today’s not one of those days.

The clock on the wall reads one-fifteen. He’s faintly aware of the sputtering on the window, the rain that’s coming or is already here. He’ll have to go home soon. He wonders if you’ll come. He wonders if he’ll ask you to.

When you turn around, he thinks the rainbow’s already out. The worst has passed.

And then you lean in. Towards him. The cigarette in his mouth stills, his heart stops. He can smell you, the sweetness of you, the warmth of your hair, and he’s surely dreaming. You’ve never done that before. He’s never let you. But you’re here now, so close he could exhale in your mouth, so close there’d be a misunderstanding, could be considered an invitation—

“I’m here if you need to talk, you know?” Your eyes are real empathetic. They make him sick to his stomach.

Deflect, deflect, deflect. Brick after brick.

“There’s nothing to say, baby girl.” Tell me what shampoo you use. Do you have trouble sleeping at night? What are you doing in this bar?

Let me take you away. Come with me.

You don’t believe him. “Promise?”

The side of his mouth curves again. He muses at the cherry between his thumb and index. “Scout’s honor.”

You walk away from him, time and time again. Angel hair framing, devil’s body swaying, those fucking lips taunting.

“If you say so, Christopher Bang.”

What do I know, sweetheart. What do I fucking know.

He waits. He’s real good at waiting, too.

Chris thinks about your proximity earlier and can’t seem to let it fucking go. In that same sense, he could do anything, and he ponders over that leaning against the exit, knowing you’re in the background of him, sweeping, putting chairs up, washing the glass his lips have touched, and isn’t that a closeness as well, a different one, one that matters more than anything else or ever?

He feels like he’s on the verge of something tonight, and for once he’d like to know what it is. He wants to screw concepts like control and restrain and just grab you—hold you—press his nose against your cheek. You’re such a vague emotion for him, he doesn’t know what to do with you, how to start, he just wants, he just craves, and that same hunger stirs again, the one that never goes away, the one that started the first night he ever set foot in this place, the soft opening, and he saw you, and you looked at him, and he was gone.

Have you ever felt that way? Do you want to? Is it even a sane feeling to have? It never ends for him, never stops. Not the war, not you, not the orders, and maybe control isn’t so overrated, maybe he still has time to pull it all together enough to walk to his car and go sleep it off on his empty bed with the colorless sheets and the humidity that clings on and to and from everything.

His waiting had a purpose, though. He has to go through with it.

Hyunjin, your little helper on Saturday’s, comes out the door with a backpack strap on one shoulder, cig drooping between full lips, brown hair falling out of a loose bun. Chris barely glances at him, before tapping his boot on the cobblestone underneath him, and focusing his gaze back towards the light coming from the street lamp on the other side of the street. It’s drizzling now, but he wishes to see that magnificent lightning crack once more, to feel thunder under his skin, the water pouring down on him like karma from times passed.

Some sort of punishment, surely, he deserves. He fought for a country that won’t even acknowledge him, lost friends he’s known since he was four years old learning how to ride a bicycle, and his mind is somewhere left behind trying to dig itself out of the thick of it, and for that—surely, surely for that—redemption will not come, but cruelness? Cruelness must. It has to.

“She’s been sleeping with Minho, you know,” the pretty boy says exhaling clouds of smoke. Chris watches them morph then dissolve into nothing.

He knew that. It was bound to happen at some point.

“You come so often and yet never say anything at all, man. What do you think she’s gonna do? Wait?”

There’s humor in that, he supposes. Wait, yes, one option. He has, he thinks, for so long. It’s never crossed his mind to stop, to look elsewhere, to find someone else. It’s who he is, it’s how it works with him. But were you anything else besides a princess locked in a tower with a dragon, a tower he’d build you, and it keeps coming up because it’s true, it won’t seize just because it doesn’t fit the narrative in his stupid head. He has no right to feel anger, no reason why he should feel wronged. Minho is your boss, you’ve worked for him for a good while, you’re pretty, beautiful, fuck, the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen, ever had the privilege to lay eyes upon, and Minho’s cunning. Handsome. Successful.

Why the hell not? No, he doesn’t fault you. He can’t.

It doesn’t sting less coming from someone else.

Chris asks what is obvious. “How’d you know? About me?”

Hyunjin lifts his hands in front of him. “Tunnel vision. It’s like you see no one else,” he pauses to take another drag of what looks like a Camel. “Kinda obsessive, don’t you think?”

Yes. If I knew better I’d walk away right now. But he won’t. Because he doesn’t care that someone else has you, has had you, will eventually have you. It’s you he wants, not the pretty packaging, no matter the fantasies and hard ons. You, he wants to talk to you, bring you in his car and dissect you, learn about you, hear you speak, let you address him how you do—Christopher—his full name taking shape, blooming, transforming into something else just because it came out of your mouth.

He’s never let himself think about kissing you, not really. But, God, would that feel a resurrection.

The door opens again.

“Hyun, what—oh.”

The boy smiles, dips his head at Chris and walks away, two fingers up and swiftly moving as goodbye. Your phone is pressed on your ear, and you look tired. He was wrong to sit there and demand. He was wrong to expect, to assume. Embarrassment creeps, and the back of his neck feels hot. He bites on his tongue and tastes metal.

“I’ll call you back,” you say to the person on the other end of the line. “Yeah, no, maybe not tonight. Okay,” your eyes on him. “Okay, bye.”

He can’t help himself. “You had plans.”

Your lips curve, and your skirt is so fucking short. He could bend you over right then and there. He could have his way with you, and walk away forever. Get you out of his system, strip you from him. How easy it all sounds.

“I have new ones now,” you simply say, and take a step towards him. “Why are you still here, Chris?”

You’re begging him for the truth. This time he thinks he can give it to you. “Because you’re here.”

You blink and shift on your legs. Your boots are black, leather. Tall. Still not taller than him. You look into him like you know him and it pisses him off. He wants you so badly his insides twist and turn against him. He could die with this want, he almost has. Move closer. Reach out. Keep your eyes on mine.

I could fuck you so good. Almost as good as you fuck me.

“And that means?”

He swallows. He doesn’t think. “Whatever you allow it to mean.”

Your huff is bitter, your gaze manic. You’ve had a few drinks, laughed with a couple customers, let them slip you tips and led them on until you couldn’t, and he watched it all. He won’t say it out loud, but you’re a bit of a slut, aren’t you. If so, why don’t you give out? Why must you starve him like this?

He lights another cigarette just to see you care again.

You click your tongue on the roof of your mouth, and glare at him. He grins. You shake your head, and cross your arms, fake mad. Look how good you’re playing this game. What if you played forever? What if you played it in his bed or his car?

“I’ve fucked your friends,” you admit, but he thinks it’s supposed to hurt, because there’s an edge to your voice. “Jisung still has my clothes. Minho thought we were gonna fuck in the back after work yesterday. I almost let him. His fingers were inside my cunt for the longest.”

I could kill them. I could wear the arms that aren’t mine and pick up a gun again. But you want this reaction.

“Is that so, sweetheart,” he says carefully, concealing any sign of acid jealousy running rampant inside of him.

“You didn’t come yesterday.”

You do care. I can’t believe it took me this long to see it.

“I didn’t think you wanted me to.”

“You are a blind man, Christopher,” you scorn him, eyes turning vile.

He’s losing you before he’s even had you. You told him loud and clear, and he still won’t dare lift his hands from his ears. This needs to be something more. He needs to make it so, build on it. The smoke burns his eyes, burns you. Let it burn me alive. He had you, somehow. He walked the line, treaded carefully, and found you in the middle, like a mirage. Where you weren’t before, you appeared suddenly. It had been like that for a while, and he’d never dared lift his head up, in fear you disappeared, in fear of missing you.

“Show me, then,” he rasped. He watched your hands as you locked the entrance, as you hesitated to turn back. “Come with me.”

You were hurt. “And let you become one of them? You’re not one of them, Chris.”

You’re right. They’ll never want you like I do. But to go from one point to the next—something needed to give.

“I won’t touch you,” he licked his lips, stepping back, stepping down. “I swear it.”

Something he didn’t expect you to do—snatch the Marlboro right out of his mouth, stick it in yours. Your saliva mixing, the tobacco running down your throats, blackening your lungs. He was staring. You looked back just as defiantly. The rain was nowhere to be seen.

She’s testing me. Measuring up.

“Fucking liar,” you accuse. “Say that again and look at me straight.”

Chris started walking, instead. You exclaimed and laughed triumphantly. But if you followed, he didn’t check. He almost didn’t want you to, couldn’t trust himself with the promise he made, and isn’t that how he mostly gets himself in trouble—words that can’t seem to match his actions. He’s fucked himself over too many times like this. Surely there’s some sort of award for that.

“You have been nothing but a coward and that’s why you’re running away, even now, even knowing what you know.”

The need to make you shut up was raw and primal. It made his teeth grit, his fists clench. It also made him stop dead in his tracks.

“What do you know about running away, baby girl?” He spat, turning his head half way. “You think it’s easy?”

He heard them, then. Your footsteps.

He almost smiled, the crazy bastard.

“Yes, I do,” you retorted stubbornly. “My ride is gone and I stayed. What do you think that means?”

Don’t love me. Don’t get in the same pit, six feet under.

“You’re playing with me.”

“No more than you are with me.”

It took exactly three strides to reach you, to bury his fist in your hair and bring your face flush against his. Your breath hitched, your eyes grew wide, wild—he’d caught you off guard, he was rough, angry, furious. If he passed his forearm under your ass you’d shoot your legs up and around his waist in surprise, perhaps desire even, that was simple to calculate, but—what then?

Chris would fuck you tonight. He knew fuck all about anything else that had to do with you, but your very scent spoke to him. You were turned on, you were fucking wet. For him. Your knees squeezed together, he felt it against his pants. He bets you can feel him, as well. He wanted you to.

“Dangerous path you’re treading there,” he mumbles against your mouth. His fingers dig deeper in your scalp, he wants to feel your heartbeat over his, he wants it to accelerate, to make you dizzy, to surrender, to give in, finally, for fuck’s sake. “We’re not very good at bluffing with each other, are we, baby girl?”

You did something, then, something he hadn’t counted on—you leaned in, you let go. Chris almost flinched away, almost locked you back in that room, in that tower, away away away.

“You should kiss me,” barely a whisper, barely a command. “I want you to kiss me.”

There was no logic behind that, if that were to happen he’d— “I’m not gonna stop,” he warns, pleads. “I have—I have been starving for you…for so long, (Y/N). If you know what you’re doing, know I’m not gonna stop.”

You blinked, and then you smiled. “No one’s stopping you.”

He continued, entranced, drunk, insane, “I’m not going to fucking be one of them. You’re gonna stay with me. We’re gonna give this a try.”

“You’re delusional.”

You kiss him first. You end it first.

His car is right there, so close, so far, but he’s clutching your shirt, your hair, your face, your hip, and it’s so fucking hot, no, you are, you’re the hottest thing he’s ever touched, he could burst into ashes and smoke right there if it were possible, perhaps he wants to, perhaps making the first move was never an option for him—

Your teeth click against his and it hurts but it feels good, like violence, like the battlefield, and he wants to show you—what the bullet feels like piercing the skin, what hands as guns are capable of, how truly terrifying it is to not be in control of your own life, of your own destiny; Chris is sure you’re holding that red string for the both of you. You could snap it, twist it, break it. Maybe you should. Maybe there’s still time to put a full stop to this, the what if’s are too many, his head is spinning, his cock is fully erect, he’s—

Fuck him, he’s really holding you right now, isn’t he? He’s backtracking you to privacy, he’s looking for the keys in his back pocket, and you’re going along with it like you would’ve all along. It pisses him off. He wants to tear you apart, limb from limb, not quite aware of how dark that sounds, only the insistent pulse of hunger present.

“Don’t hold back,” you breathe into him. He staggers, scared of your thought-reading abilities. “Not for my sake.”

There’s one bone chilling moment where he pulls back and stares at you. In the feverish dream, he could pretend this was all make believe, that he had most likely passed out on the bar stool waiting for you to close, or even further, that he was still choking down sand next to dead bodies and machine guns—to actually—actually think you craved something like this?

After all the pushing and pulling? After Jisung’s embarrassed unanswered calls, Minho’s obnoxious smirk, Hyunjin’s shame inducing comments?

“You want this,” he tests, stricken. Confused.

You dare roll your eyes at him, closing the door after you. You’re properly straddling him now, your core pressing where he needs you most, and his hips buck, instinctively, his arms steadying you unconsciously. He wants to do it again, goes for it, but you meet him halfway, and it’s as good an answer as any. What comes out of your mouth, not quite a moan or a quiver—heaven, it must be, the gates opening, welcoming.

“I’m here, Christopher,” you say, and—

Say it again. Say it again and again and again. Look at me. Don’t take your eyes off me.

“Isn’t that enough? Get it through your head or I’m leaving.”

He does. He tries. He undresses you slowly, whatever he can reach, whatever’s accessible, and you let him, you stroke his shoulders, relax them, tense them to the point of fucking stiffness, but he can’t tell you that, he’s got one chance, he’s fucking taking it, he won’t miss, he won’t back down.

When he goes in to kiss you again, you press your naked chest over his thin tank top, and even then, he feels it—your pointing nipples, how hard they are, asking for attention. His hand comes out to reach for your neck, creating space by pushing you back, his tongue quickly wrapping around one bud, nibbling, sucking, teasing. You shudder, and his dick twitches. Holding you like this, applying just enough pressure to induce pain but making it manageable, he learned it for other purposes, it was never supposed to be for this, never for this—

He thinks he can begin using it for pleasure now. For something softer, more innocent. For you. On you.

You slip his thumb past your lips, licking over it, and he looks up through dark eyelashes, watches you do it, fantasizes about that mouth and how it would feel in other places, but he doesn’t want that from you now. He’d rather bury himself between your legs. He’d like to think you’ll have more time for everything else, more miracle chances.

Chris can smell your arousement. You’re practically soaking his pants with how you’re dry humping his thigh. He loves watching you losing yourself, he’d just love it even more if you were doing it with his cock inside you. His nails dig into your waist, his wanting unbearable, uncontrollable.

He’s shaking with the sheer force of it, though he would never truly admit it to himself.

You release his finger, and he brings you back, hand getting lost at your nape, holding you there, boring his eyes into yours, searching, asking, verifying. You’re so warm, his girl. The girl he’s wanted for so long, he’s dreamed of, has fought for in a silent war—before he even knows what he’s doing, he pulls you in for a hug, forgetting his own flesh, his desire.

You’re warm. Are you always this warm? Will you let me have this? I’ve been cold for so long, so fucking long…

“We’ve waited too long, don’t you think?” You mumble in his ear. You fall into him, relax your weight. Crush me. Let me feel you. “Do it, Chris. Please.”

Yes. Yes, you’re right. “I want you to know,” he starts, voice cracking, full of emotion. “I’ve lived through Hell wasting all that time. I’ve thought about death and addiction, and about how none of that could ever fucking compare to having you, like this, one day. You’ve kept me straight, sweetheart. Sane.”

It takes only a second for the words to register, before you’re unbuckling his belt, unzipping, hand getting lost, and he holds his breath through all of it, holds you even tighter, and when you finally, finally, have him in your hand, he pulls your panties to the side and guides you over, slams you down, on him. You bite his lip to keep from screaming out and he only digs deeper in your cunt.

“Take them off,” you cry out, trying to move by your own volition. He won’t let you. “Take them off now.”

He reaches behind your back and rips the thin fabric off you, throwing it on the driver's seat. Then he’s fucking into you full force, pistoling his hips up into your warmth, feeling you squeeze around him, your mouth sucking on his neck, the car heavy with your breathing, windows smudged. When he’s not guiding your hips, he’s gripping your ass, he’s abusing your waist by smacking you down on his length, hard, forcefully, painfully by the scrunch of your brows, but the way you take it all—the way you’re blossoming over him, hungrier than he is, a slut dripping for him, for his cock, for the way it fills you up, the way he fills you up—

Chris is convinced your pussy was made for him, he fits so perfectly inside it. Your rhythm is manic, chasing, brutal, but you’re so wet, so fucking wet, it feels so good, he needs you to know, he needs you to hear it, something else other than his cock burying, fuck, fuck, baby girl, your cunt, your sweet fucking cunt, I wanna be inside it forever, I’m gonna fill you up so good, look at you, look how you’re moving on me, let me see you, sweetheart, let me taste it, I bet you taste incredible; God I could fuck you all night, I could ruin you, I want to, you’re gonna fucking kill me.

“I’m going to cum,” you rasp, breathless, turned on beyond belief. “Chris, I’m going to fucking cum, fuck, just like that, please, don’t stop, faster, please, please…”

He drills into you one last time, two, three, before his arms fully wrap around you and envelop you, bodies shaking, releasing. There’s sweat dripping down his forehead, and you’ve made a mess of his car seat. He could give less of a fuck about the stain, it’s the smell that’s driving him crazy, his musk mixed with yours, the desire stirring in the pit of his stomach, the way he wants to throw you in the backseat and to take you from behind as well.

His cock empties itself inside you in aftershocks, and your rocking hips against him are not helping. He wants to pin you down but can’t bring himself to do it. It feels overwhelming, good as fuck, to know you want him this much, even if just like this, it’s a start, it’s something he can work with.

“Never fucked in a car before,” you admit, dazed, giggling.

The sound tickles him.

“Took your first time, then, didn’t I?” He retorts, aware of how ridiculous it sounds.

But then you lean back, your gaze grows serious, you stop squirming. He listens, he tunes in.

“Wish you had,” you say. “My first time was in a back alley of a club. I was drunk and left to find my own way back afterwards… Not quite a decision I’m proud of.”

Chris’ heart dropped. “Consensual?”

You nodded. “Not to worry.” But the smile you threw at him didn’t quite reach your eyes. “I wonder how it would’ve been, though, if it was you from the start. You joined the army so quickly, I wasn’t sure what to do.”

His worst mistake. Something he’ll regret for the rest of his life. Chris gently lifts you from his lap and lays your upper half body on the seat next to him, quickly propping one knee where he was sitting, grabbing your hips and passing your legs over his shoulders. You squeal, hands clutching at your chest, as you watch him.

He boyishly grins your way before digging in your pussy, slurping away, cleaning you dry. The sound that came out of your mouth upon contact, fucking hell, he’ll never forget it. His cock rose in full attention again, his heart melted right off his goddamn chest. And you kept making it, kept giving it to him, sending him straight to his grave, moaning his name like that, his full name, as his tongue lapped, his nose nudging your clit.

Fuck no, you weren’t cumming. He wouldn’t let you. Not yet.

He withdrew his mouth, lowering you gently but still having a forearm under and across your waist. You kept your eyes closed, your chest rising and falling in quick motions.

“Now I can take you home.”

Your hand in his, he brought you back to his lap, held you until you calmed down. He kissed your lips and let you taste yourself. He looked at you and looked at you and looked at you.

You weren’t going anywhere.

“This could be something,” you muse quietly, face nuzzled in the crook of his neck.

Chris bit down a chuckle, nodded softly in agreement.

“Let it,” he responded. “Let it be.”

You didn’t move an inch. A minute or a year passed, it was hard to tell. Then, ever so agonizingly slow, you tilted your head.

You smiled.

Fuck me.

tags. @ughbehavior, @cb97percent, @j-0ne25, @danyxthirstae01, @streetlight-s, @amnmich, @imtoooyoungforthisshit.

#stray kids scenarios #bang chan scenarios #skz scenarios #chan scenarios #stray kids smut #skz smut #bang chan smut #chan smut #bang chan fanfic #bang chan x reader #chan x reader #kpop scenarios #kpop smut #skz fanfic #stray kids #bang chan #stray kids fanfic #skz imagines #stray kids imagines #stray kids fanfiction #—mine.

[linkedin-offficial]

local full time technician gets alot more than she bargained for, more at 8

some stuff for dragons in my flight rising lore! sirko runs a circus on the outskirts of hyrule, and pipimi unfortunately gets wrapped up in the places hijinks after being hired by them to be a full time technician.

more details under the cut!

like stated previously, sirko is the ringleader of a circus called "the sensational sunset circus", popular for its sunset aesthetic and plethora of attractions. pipimi was attracted to this job offer because she was looking for an excuse to get away and leave her old life behind. so, she applied, and the moment she arrived, she was adorned with compliments and attention. to her suprise, she was the only new hire theyve had in years. and the longer she stays, shes grows quite certain she knows exactly why.

(and yes, the tadc parallels are apparent .. oops 😭 my brain loves to unconsciously attach my hyperfixations to eachother)

all of the members of this circus are very different and have quite striking personalities. the current list of the living (excluding sirko and pipimi) is as follows :

mowbray - (he/him ; sibling and right hand man to sirko) a fairly lax individual most of the time. one of the few of them with a braincell. can usually tolerate most things but can very easily snap if you bother him enough. friends with pipimi solely because they both are somewhat smart enough to not go insane immediately.

holiday - (she/her ; makeup artist and costume designer) fairly laid back and super duper chill, and easily one of the sweeter members of the circus. she doesnt hesitate to bring others up in mood and try to help where she can.

she has a .. "special connection" with pipimi, letting her call her 'holly', and visiting her often. she says its just because of how often her clothes tear, but most of the other members speculate other .. interesting reasons.

jaxton - (he/him ; That asshole) probably the one guy who most likely wouldnt lay down his life for pipimi. he constantly bullies her, teasing her at every chance he gets.

when he isnt messing with her though, hes trying out new tricks to impress the locals and maybe scam some out of their money. hes tried countless times to help his fellow coworker iskam try and become better at her scam artistry, but iskam certainly isnt smart enough for his precious arts. what a shame.

iskam - (she/he/they ; "future seer" vendor) a particularly clueless individual, he enjoys trying his hardest to predict others futures, genuinely believing hes right when in reality, she just makes things up. the money is just a bonus to her endeavors. couldn't count to 100 if you asked.

on the plus side, they like the company of pipimi, mostly because she tries really hard not to hurt others feelings. pipimi knows iskam is wrong, but wont say it.

pakwan - (she/they ; resident dumpster fish) somehow more clueless than iskam, but still just as cheerful. she enjoys a melon snack more than anything in the world. well, not really. she enjoys pipimi's company more than anything else, and often accidentally splashes her with water with excitement when pip comes by.

she loves doing tricks, especially for pipimi. pipimi loves to listen to pakwan ramble about her day. in a sort of mutual peace of mind, kinda way.

mang - (he/it ; horrible little rat bastard thief) being small and cunning has its advantages, and mang uses them well. known to be the local thief of the circus, it takes every opportunity he can to sneak about and steal anything he can fit into his pockets. if you can get on his good side however, youll never lose another key again. because of this, it quite likes pipimi.

halimaw - (he/they ; the beast of the basement) dangerous and cunning. halimaw is sly with his words but bumbly and outrageous at the same time. large and un-anxious, he wont hesitate to bite your head off if you refuse to listen to him. gets what he wants, and when he doesnt, he takes by force. these are primarily reasons why he was locked down there. better safe than sorry.

saya - (she/her ; sister to holiday and ex-partner to halimaw) very reserved and almost acts as a mediator. she values her dance skills VERY seriously and considers dance the ultimate art, much to her sisters dismay. they dont fight about it however, and they are quite close.

anyway, thats it for now!

ill probably be talking about these 10 sometime in the future but for now have this !! i love thinking about them and they mean alot to me <3 circus freaks

#i am the most normalest person to ever be normal #this took awhile to work on/write so rbs are heavily appreciated #anyway i love them<3 expect more #flight rising #flight rising fanart #frfanart #original character #my ass a sucker for circus #fr fae #fr skydancer #fr obelisk #fr coatl #fr spiral #fr undertide #fr aberration #fr bogsneak #fr auraboa #many of them! #personal tags here -> #mythos au #sunset circus #ok thats it #more holiday centric stuff soon #maybe #dont quote me on that

[randomfotos]

Hello everyone, today I'm going to move away from the topic of my blog, to talk about something serious!

I've been on Tumblr since its inception, I've had several accounts, with different content and styles. I currently have two active accounts, both of which are very popular.

I gave this brief context, so that you understand that I have a basis for what I am going to say next.

For years I have noticed a certain discrepancy in the number of notes in certain posts. Over time it became increasingly obvious to understand why… The fact is that posts starring men of color (black, Asian, Latino, indigenous, people from the Middle East, in general, non-white men) receive much less, but much less likes and shares than those carried out by white men.

And look, this isn't about blog popularity and making a post go viral here. It's something bigger and very serious: racism and xenophobia.

And that's a huge general outline. For example: if posts with older men don't receive as many likes, compared to those with young, sexy, muscular black men, they receive much less notification than posts with older white men.

Another example, posts by fat men, do not have much repercussion, but when compared to that of an Asian or indigenous person, the fat white man receives more visibility.

I mentioned these two specific aspects, because in a society developed according to an aesthetic standard, old gay men and fat gay men are routinely placed on the margins of the gay community, simply because they do not meet these aesthetic expectations, but even when a group meets these "aesthetic standards", are belittled, subdued, disrespected and discriminated against, solely because of their skin color and origin.

Racism and xenophobia around the world is something that is clearly present in everyday life. And many people think it is not prejudiced. But even though things are very open on a daily basis, racism and xenophobia act silently, in a very sneaky way.

So, if you stop liking a photo because you didn't find it beautiful or attractive in your eyes, it's ok! Now, if you want for a second, you think about "if it were a white man there, this photo would be more beautiful" or "if it were a white man, I would feel hot for this guy", I'm sorry to inform you that you have the racism and xenophobia rooted in you!

Once again, I repeat. It's not about popularity, number of likes or reblogs. It's something very serious!

It’s not enough to not be racist, you have to be anti-racist! This means that we must monitor ourselves so that we do not have veiled racist and xenophobic attitudes in our attitudes and speech!

P.S.: I'm Brazilian, and English is not my mother tongue. So I ask you to use interpretation to understand what was said in a mature and responsible way. If any word or phrase is wrong or out of context, please let me know!

[httpstes]

✧˚ · . astro observation VI ✧˚ · .

Links to other astrovations: Astrology observations l, Astrology Observations ll, Astrology observations lll, Astrology observations IV, Astrology observations V

ꕥ Aries and Pisces moons are equally sensitive imo, Aries most of the time outwardly expresses this sensitivity, Pisces is 50/50

ꕥ On top of that, from what i’ve seen aries moons are more sensitive to what people say to them, they can get very defensive and guard their ego closely (honestly this can go for any fire moon) meanwhile pisces is sensitive to their environment and the people around them.

ꕥMoon in 3H can indicate having a love for writing/poetry. It may bring these individuals great comfort and they could’ve been the type to write a lot as a kid. English/Media studies is probably these peoples favourite subject.

ꕥ Pisces moons are careful with what they say to other people sometimes to a point where they can’t speak their minds and be authentic, they easily soak up the energies within a room.

ꕥ Scorpio mercuries are not only very interested in dissecting every bit and piece of their childhood, who they are and what makes them, them. But when they like someone, bro, they will want to understand this person to a fault. They want to find out what makes them tick, what makes them happy and so forth. Great listeners too :))

ꕥ Cancer moons no matter what other placements they have are always so sweet man. Idek how to describe it but anytime i meet a person with a cancer moon they just radiate this loving, carefree energy. Then when i get to know them they’re still loving and sweet, just they hold a lot of emotional baggage and trauma 😭 I hope y’all doing okay.

ꕥ People with libra Sun/Moon/Venus i feel would be attracted to sophisticated, elegant individuals. Someone with an attractive appeal, who has a nice home, pretty facial features, popular or has some status in their area.

ꕥ Ive looked at some of my friends ascendant persona chart, and oml it makes sm sense. One of my friends is a pisces rising but i feel as though only some aspects of a pisces rising was shown through her outward personality, it was only until I saw her asc persona chart that i saw she was an aries rising with venus in the first house. I showed her this and she definitely agreed that her outward personality could come off as an aries rising. So when you check your asc persona chart think of it as like a second rising sign with some influence to your natal rising sign :)

ꕥ Pisces mercuries can get a bad rep within their school/work place. These people can get their words easily twisted around, and eventually they’re blamed for things they didn’t even say/do :( This could be because of the neptunian, illusion like influence pisces will have on the natives communication.

ꕥ Venus transmitting your 5th house can indicate having a fling, or being in a short situation-ship.

ꕥ Moon in the 12th house grants an individual who is extremely empathic, and intuitive to the needs of others. This can lead to people naturally gravitating towards them because of how kind and understanding they seem.

ꕥ Mercury in aspect to MC can indicate someone who is seen as well spoken in the public eye. Typically this goes for mercury in the 10th house however i believe it is stronger when it’s conjunct the Midheaven. These people can easily climb their way up the social ladder by using and manipulating their words. They know how to appeal to the public.

ꕥ Aries moons may have been very rough or rebellious children when younger. They tend to be very action oriented and could be involved in a lot of sports.

ꕥ I feel like sag moons are the types of people who enjoy learning about their friends religions and backgrounds. They find it interesting and want to understand how other people view life.

ꕥ Where you have libra in your chart can show where you like to have peace and harmony, where you like to have things aesthetically pleasing and easy. For example, Libra in 10th house may like to come off as conventionally attractive and pretty. They may want to be seen as someone who is sweet and playful. Ofc this can lead to superficiality, but this can prove to benefit them and their wellbeing, as having a Libra 10th house/MC can make you seem like a push over, this could help the individual learn how to not settle for less and to develop their assertive communication skills. Libra in the 6th house might like to have organised routines that are aesthetically pleasing and that benefit their health/work ethic. But Libra in 6th housers need to learn to balance the outward appearance of their routines with the practicality of their routines. Libra in 6th house may prioritise having a rigid routine simply because it makes them feel nice or makes them look good when they also have to know if their routine is becoming obsessive and is no longer about benefitting their wellbeing. Libra in 8th house may like to have or do have lives with little to no traumatic experiences. They don’t want conflict or life altering events that can put them off balance, and change them psychologically. Because of this, Libra 8th housers may need to learn to accept that some stages in life are not always harmonious and balanced.

ꕥ Sun in 4th house may deep down whether it was a positive or negative experience, have a deep fondness/love for their home and childhood. Even if their childhood wasn’t the best, many with this placement I have noticed tend to reminisce and look back. Some of my friends who have this placement always look back on their childhood even if it was shitty as many of them like the comfortability it gave them. Some of my 4H sun friends told me they were scared to leave and grow as individuals while others told me the exact opposite wanting to get as far away from home as possible.

ꕥ Also i noticed that many 4H suns may still live in their childhood home as adults or one day buy it from their parents.

ꕥ Moon in 11th house may deeply rely on friendships and connections to get through rough times. These individuals are very people oriented and genuinely enjoy meeting new people, none of their connections are insincere.

ꕥ Transit Venus travelling through your 3rd house may indicate having a peaceful school environment or less disruptions in your neighbourhood. This could also indicate a time where you and your siblings get along easily with little to no arguments.

ꕥ Transit Mars travelling through your 3rd house could mean the opposite. Arguments and conflicts are more likely to arise with siblings and in your neighbourhood. There could be some type of restricting, competitive atmosphere at school that makes it seem like everyone wants to be better than the other. However during this time period you could get a lot done either out of anger, competitiveness or simply wanting to meet your end goals.

ꕥMercury-Mars (esp conj) can make a person a very passionate speaker. These people could make great motivational speakers and are seen as the ones who are easily persuasive.

ꕥSun-Mercury is the same except the way i see it is, Mercury-Mars: " YOU GOT THIS! KEEP GOING! I BELIEVE IN YOU😡🫶!" meanwhile Sun-Mercury: " yes!! you got this, you’re slaying so hard rn 🫶"

ꕥNot an observation but a personal opinion, men with lots of scorpio/cancer placements absolutely terrify me, I’m sorry but i had to say it.

ꕥ Well honestly lots of scorpio/cancer placements in a persons chart generally scare me but most of the women i’ve met with this placement are really sweet, clingy, but sweet. The 4 guys i’ve met, talked to and hung out with that had these placements, made me want to obliterate the earth. 😁 (however i will say they were probably very immature and their scorpio/cancer placements hadn’t evolved yet)

ꕥ Jupiter in 6th house may have had lots of pets in their lives or want to have many pets.

ꕥ Jupiter in 6th may also have really good health and could take advantage of that. In worst cases they could abuse substances/routines that are NOT good for them however they happen to be lucky in multiple aspects and could live very healthily. However I obviously don’t suggest this, everything might be fine one moment but sooner or later things could come crashing down any moment.

ꕥ Saturn in 11th might have had restrictive friends, friends who constantly controlled them and what they did, people who criticised them to fit in.

ꕥ If not this, Saturn in 11th may have had (or still have) friends who are older than them and are almost like mentors to them. These individuals could have friends wise beyond their years and give great advice to the Saturn in 11H individual. Saturn in 11H can also indicate having long term friendships.

ꕥ People with heavy plutonian influence are generally pretty popular (depending on the rest of the chart) however i’ve noticed these individuals get into a lot of drama. Even if they hadn’t started anything, these individuals names always get dragged into things for whatever reason. I believe this may stem from the power and beauty that exudes from these individuals, and so people either are jealous and involve them in drama, or people naturally assume they are up to some shady shit.

ꕥ I consider heavy plutonian influence to be if you have scorpio placements (esp a stellium in scorpio or the 8th house), placements in the 8th house, or if you have pluto conjunct/opposite 2+ personal planets.

Thank you for reading, likes and reblogs are always appreciated 🫶

#astro community #astrology placements #astrology notes #astrology community #astro notes #astrology #astro tumblr #astroblr #astrology observations #astro observations #cancer moon #aries moon #pisces moon #moon in 3rd house #moon in 11th house #scorpio mercury #pisces mercury #libra placements #astrology transits #moon in 12th house #sagittarius moon #sun in 4th house #scorpio placements #jupiter in 6th #saturn in 11th house #astrology aspects

[y-rhywbeth2]

Lore: Baldur's Gate #1

Link: Disclaimer regarding D&D "canon" & Index [tldr: D&D lore is a giant conflicting mess. Larian's lore is also a conflicting mess. You learn to take what you want and leave the rest]

The City #1 | The City #2 | Administration & Government | ??? - WIP

Might as well start compiling lore on the namesake of the game...

Featuring the city aesthetic (the depiction of it in-game wasn't nearly grey, damp or claustrophobic enough) and a mostly complete overview of the city and its major areas: the Lower City, Upper City, Outer City, Undercellar and Undercity.

Cultural titbits: like why you can't have animals bigger than peacocks; that you shouldn't live here if you have claustrophobia; how the Patriars clearly have it out for people with hay fever; the constant mould problem; where to go to get a glowing tattoo, a fake tan and the magical equivalent of a plastic surgeon; and why, in fairness to the Banites, the city requires very little effort to turn into a nightmarish police state under the control of an evil deity.

And if your Dark Urge is a sewer gremlin then that's a life choice they're making, not a Bhaalist thing: the Undercity isn't in the sewers.

-

The city state of Baldur's Gate is one of Faerûn's more important ports, situated geographically between the massive trade centres of Athkatla and Waterdeep. It began its life as a fusion of the early fishing hamlet of Loklee (formed around 0 DR) and the pirate and smuggler hub that formed nearby. It was a popular port with a shipyard and visitor's wharves by 204 DR. The natural harbour the man-made harbour is built on is one of the only places in hundreds of miles that's safe for ships to dock at.

Due to the lack of nearby settlements to form competition, the trade hub attained city status and import early in its existence. It briefly fell under the early kingdom of Shavinar, though this was mostly a technicality and the settlement continued to govern itself and continued to do so when the kingdom fell in 277 DR.

The area was first officially recognised in the history books as the city of of Baldur's Gate in 446 DR.

The primary spoken language of the Gate is Chondathan, however during the Spellplague the city attracted enough refugees to become one of Faerûn's most populated cities, and it's a diverse enough location that many people are at least bilingual (not counting Common): many speak Chondathan, their native/ancestral language and a third.

As a major port the city has always been something of a melting pot and encouraged a policy of tolerance - you don't want to drive away merchants and trade, after all. Likewise, in the interests of encouraging trade, the city has enforced a stance of political neutrality and refuses to be drawn into international problems.

Officially, the city prides itself on being welcoming to all ways of life, to the point where anyone and anything goes as long as they obey the laws and don't rock the boat; even the open worship of the majority evil gods is completely unremarkable - what if you want to trade with a place where those gods are a major religion, after all? While Umberlee is worshipped everywhere near the sea (under threat of tidal waves and drowning in retribution for not worshipping her), Baldur's Gate is one of the few places she has an actual temple.

A shrine to any god - regardless of what their faith does or preaches - can be established in any of the temple districts for public worship, and the law will pay it no mind.

This reputation for tolerance and neutrality means it tends to be one of the first choices for refugees and immigrants looking for a new start. The city is extremely crowded, with many people packed into tight spaces and narrow streets, and its population numbers surpassed the metropolis of Waterdeep decades ago; standing at 42,103 people in the 14th century, it has likely more than doubled since. Visitors often find it incredibly - possibly intolerably - loud and busy, while locals consider them to be backwater farmers who don't know what civilisation looks like.

While the city doesn't discriminate legally against any groups, its reputation for tolerance is somewhat overexaggerated. Peoples who are viewed as monstrous by the Realms at large, such as orcs and other goblinoids, or drow, can expect to feel unwelcome as with everywhere else. The recent wave of unwanted human refugees from Calimshan have a strained relationship with the established Baldurians, who view them as foreign and wish they'd just assimilate and start speaking Chondathan already. The city is a human settlement by culture and demographics, retaining its historical human majority, and while the demihuman minorities are part of mundane everyday life, there have been incidents such as in the early 14th century, which saw the rise of The Sure Helm: a human supremacy group who had an issue with the non-humans in their society and were known to carry out hate crimes on the likes of half-elves and half-orcs if they thought they could get away with it.

On a slightly saner note: you have the freedom of religion to worship a god who demands slaves and blood sacrifice, but it's a bad idea to advertise that... Or get caught slaving and murdering, unless you're a very high ranking priest.

--

Local bards tend to refer to the city as the Cresent moon in their lyrics and poems, after the shape of the city layout. The musical traditions of the Gate focus on "brassy-voiced tenors" and "delightfully smoky altos".

Baldurians frown on drunk, debauched and disorderly behaviour in public: there's no space for this nonsense and you're keeping everybody on the street awake.

The gate has an array of cosmetic services available in the markets of the Wide, where - as well as mundane tattooists and piercers - one can hire wizards in the market to perform cosmetic alterations with transmutation magic: glowing tattoos and other strange illusions, tans, magically affixing gems and jewellery like pieces to your body, changing hair colour, texture and style, changing your eye colour, altering your height or your weight or your sexual dimorphism, etc etc.

It's considered bad luck to harm a cat. Many of the animals moved into the area by hitching a ride on sea traffic, and as they're extremely useful for keeping vermin down both on land and at sea, Baldurians are fond of them.

If you need help carrying your shopping or finding somewhere in the city, most street corners have youths known as "lamp boys" and "lamp lasses" you can hire - so called because of the lanterns they carry at night. With the founding of the newspaper you can also find them hawking the daily papers.

The trade the city brings is the lifeline of the Sword Coast (South), and the only place one can buy foreign and luxury goods in the entire region. That said, these goods come at a significant mark up compared to the prices you'd find in Waterdeep or anywhere in Amn.

The majority of silver trade bars (bars of metal used in place of coins, for ease of transport) are made in the Gate, and the city sets the standards for this form of currency.

-

The city has always been heavily policed, and is known for being quiet and one of the safest cities in Western Faerûn; Baldurians don't expect much if any major disruption to the city's day-to-day life.

The city has its own City Watch - member of the watch being readily identified by their black helms, bearing a red stripe down one side - however the Flaming Fist Mercenary Company is the first thing that comes to mind when you mention law enforcement; you can barely go more than an hour without seeing at least one uniformed officer.

The City Watch used to be the city's police force, however by the end of the 15th century the Fist has taken on much of their role, and the Watch now functions purely as the private law keepers of the Upper City. They are permitted to live within the Upper City, and positions in the watch are now mostly hereditary.

Even when the Watch was the official city police the Fist boasted an army a thousand strong. By the start of the 15th century the Fist had taken over city patrols in a semi-official capacity. The two groups also overlap, and many of the Watch are also secretly members of the Fist. One in ten people in the gate - Watch or otherwise - are spies and informants for the mercenary company.

They may not be fully reliable as a police force however, as they are known to chose not to deal with some problems, declaring it a problem for the watch to deal with. Notably they do not police the Outer City and refuse to touch anything involving the Undercellar.

The Flaming Fist also has outposts in other realms, where it guards the foreign trade interests of the city, such as Fort Beluarian (a hamlet of 313 people) in the jungles of Chult on the Southern end of Faerûn. Being mercenaries, they are available for hire for any purpose that isn't considered flat out evil.

Of course the heavy policing and massive police presence, to anybody who cares to look closer at the city's outward appearance of security, is a giant tip-off that the city has a thriving underworld. The Thieves Guild is an ever-present force, and the religious tolerance means that there are a lot of other organised crime syndicates (ie the priests), murderers and extortion rackets running around. Such organisations keep close diplomatic ties to the Grand Dukes and the commander of the Flaming Fist.

-

The weather conditions are typically rain, sleet or fog depending on season and time of day, and the streets and buildings are almost constantly wet either from the weather or the sea. The architecture is almost entirely stone, as it's less likely to rot. The streets are often slippery, and straw or gravel from the river is sometimes thrown over the cobbles for grip. The citizens take advantage of the moisture and damp to use their cellars to cultivate edible fungi. Damp, mould and mildew are a common menace, but it did lead a wizard named Halbazzer Drin to make his fortune by inventing spells that banishes mildew (12gp per casting) and dry out an area without damaging anything (10gp), so services exist if you need to hire them. The spell is not known outside of the city; Drin refused to sell knowledge of the spell to anyone for any price or offer. Due to the damp, the streets have no banners or other hanging fabrics around.

Buildings tend to be tall and narrow, with shuttered slit windows placed high up, which will be firmly shut at night and all day in winter, to keep out the gales and invading gulls looking for places to nest. The extremely narrow streets of the Lower City are full of window planters and hanging baskets of flowers, providing the sole spot of colour amongst the grey. As the city streets are so steep and narrow, the city has a ban on allowing animals larger than a dog into the city (it's too difficult for them to navigate and likely to cause traffic issues).

Boxed in by its thick, heavily fortified city walls and with no space to expand the city has largely built upwards, and the streets are filled with stone buttresses and arches supporting the upper floors.

Due to its stony architecture and frequent overcast, the entire city is often referred to as the Grey Harbour by residents. (This is also the name of the actual city harbour)

The city is built into the chalk white cliffs around the harbour, growing in elevation until the settlement stops at the outermost walls.

By the 15th century, the city was firmly divided into the Lower and Upper Cities, the latter of which is built into the highest elevation, cut off by a wall. In the population boom that followed the mass immigration of Spellplague refugees, many people were forced to make space for themselves outside of the walls, building the Outer City. Beneath the city lies the Undercellar

Descending from the Undercellar is a labyrinth of tunnels leading down into caverns buried beneath Baldur's Gate; housing the ruins of a forgotten era, where the Temple of Bhaal stands over the ruins, surrounded by the restless spirits and walking corpses of undead residents ancient and brand new.

-

The Lower City houses most of the city, crafts and trade.

With the narrow spaces, cliffs, tall buildings and arches, the city can get rather dark at night. What public lighting is available is maintained by the citizens themselves. The wealthier parts of the Lower City, like Bloomridge, use oil and wick copper bowls, while poorer areas make do with candles in tin lanterns, usually such things are mounted on the walls and ceilings of the darkest corners; but when you want to navigate at night you'll usually be hiring lamp lads.

The Grey Harbour is one of Toril's most famous and best ports, frequented by legitimate merchant captains and pirates alike; many of the families living on the docks are the families of sailors. The area is very industrialised, sporting the shipyard, multiple cranes and railway tracks used to facilitate the moving of goods. The most notable structures are the Harbourmaster's Office, a tiny building with barred windows that deals with all trades and taxes - and the Water Queen's House at the end of the pier, which everybody with a brain makes offerings to and nobody looks too closely at whatever the Umberlant priests get up to in there, because the vast majority of people like breathing.

The Gate has little in the way of large fanciful festivals, but specific streets in the Lower City are prone to a centuries old tradition of "cobble parties", where the people living on a street pull up some chairs, benches and barrels and gather outside to share a mild drink, tell stories and chat. An ongoing cobble party can be recognised by the bright rose-red torches that are hung up along the street walls - these torches are made at Felogyr's Fireworks and can be bought almost anywhere in the city.

Bloomridge is as close the Upper City as you can get without actually gaining access, and houses the Gate's middle class. It was initially built in elevated platforms cimbing up the Upper City's walls using magic and Gondian engineering. It's various attractions - including fanciful architecture, florists, artisanal boutiques, fancy open-air kaeth houses (cafes) and dining houses (restaurants; also known as "skaethars" or "feasthalls"), and elaborate hanging gardens and floral arcades - made it attractive to those with wealth but no pedigree.

The district expanded as those who could afford to do so began purchasing and razing the original, less fancy buildings in the vicinity and building estates on the ground where they used to stand. Those who can't quite afford that instead opt to live in high class apartment buildings and flats over the local businesses. Buildings here often have rooftop gardens and balconies with pleasant vistas.

-

The Upper City is located in the oldest quarter of the city, the Lower City being built outside of the walls and stretching down to the harbour and then having the lower city walls constructed around it. The only gate connecting the two halves is the eponymous Baldur's Gate, the first of the many city gates constructed. It's also heavily guarded and the only gate by which outsiders may access the Upper City; there are numerous smaller gates, but they are exclusively used by patriars and those bearing family livery or bearing a letter of employment signed by a patriar. This district houses the Gate's oldest and most powerful families: anyone who isn't a patriar is either a servant or a watchman, who will most likely be a member of a family that has served a patriar family/the Upper City for generations. The exceptions tend to be a handful of the most successful and affluent business owners whose businesses have become popular enough with the nobility to be welcomed in. Every business and city service in this district exists to serve the upper class exclusively.

It's the most open and colourful part of the city; the shutters and doors are painted in fresh, vibrant paints. The streets are broad and well lit with ornate enchanted lamps; the terrain is mostly flat, unlike the streets of the Lower City, which can often resemble giant staircases.

Businesses that would cause unpleasant smells are banned from the area, and the Upper City maintains many gardens, windowsill planters and trellises where flowers bloom and fill the air with pleasant scents (unless you have hay fever, anyway). Wandering minstrels provide ambient music as they wander the streets - usually a singer playing a lute or harp accompanied by a flutist and perhaps a drummer who may provide a chorus.

They've also got drains, so the streets are less inclined to flood or turn to mud the way the rest of the city is.

There are no inns or alehouses here: a noble who wishes to drink will either host a party, attend a private club, or go slumming in the Lower City.

The Upper City houses the High Hall, also known as the ducal palace; the administrative building that provides a place for feasts, court hearings and government meetings. The meeting rooms are and have always been open for public use, however there is a rule that states you cannot rent a meeting room there twice within 48 hours (to stop people from monopolising the rooms). The High Hall used to be a more grim, military building but has since been renovated to appear more bright and friendly as a PR stunt following a giant riot over taxes.

The other two of the city's temples are located in the Upper City, the Lady's Hall - a Temple of Tymora - and the High House of Wonders, the temple of Gond (who is near enough the city's patron god). The building serves various purposes: a temple, workshops, factories and laboratories. When something deemed ready for the eye is released it can usually be viewed in the Hall of Wonders: a science museum across the street to the temple.

It's also where the Gate's largest marker - the Wide - is situated. It's the only large open space in the city, and the only open air market. Outside of festivals, performances and music is banned in the area. The Wide is usually packed with people forced to stand shoulder-to-shoulder, and those who are hired to perform deliveries in the Wide are always tall and large, capable of seeing over the heads of the throngs and pushing their way through. Goods are carried atop tall poles that are strapped to the deliverymen's chests or backs. Prices are lowest in the Wide compared to anywhere else, and any transactions that cannot be performed within a licensed store must take place here by law.

Permits to rent space in the Wide for the day are limited, and they usually go to whoever has the money to bribe the bailiff, watchmen and other officials who have sway in over the market's administration - which is usually the merchants of the Upper City.

As well as the usual fare of goods, the Wide offers a large range of cosmetic services including the mundane body modifications and stylists that one would find on Earth, and more esoteric concepts that can only be accomplished with magic; such services and the artisans who provide them are seasonal and ever changing. The Wide is the most colourful spot in the city, and the only place that's the exception to the lack of banners and other hanging fabrics. Historically the Wide was open all day and night, but in recent times the watch has been closing the area at dusk - nobody except for the patriars may have use of the Upper City after dark.

The Wide is only closed if the area must be used for something else, such as public Highharvestide festivals... or because a patriar decided to close it off for private use, such as a ball or wedding.

Just outside of the market area is the rest of the Upper City's commercial area; stores, insurance offices, trade guildhalls, Ramazith's tower and the public entrance to the Undercellar - a flight of stone stairs leading down to a pair of heavy oak doors at the southern edge of the market. The doors are shut, but the Undercellar never closes and if you knock somebody will open them and usher you inside.

-

The Undercellar is a maze of underground passages lying beneath the city - mostly vaulted stone chambers created from the interconnected and abandoned cellars of the old Upper City, with hidden exits all over the city. Those who know where these exits are tend to guard them jealously, but may be willing to allow the Thieves' Guild access for coin or service. The Guild itself controls a fair few of these exits, and has been working on expanding the network.

It's also the playground for the criminal underworld of the Gate. The Undercellar's public image is that of a rather unprincipled festhall (a specific form of adult entertainment venue in the Realms that serves as a fusion of casino, bar, lounge, spa, brothel, playground, BDSM scene, LARPing club and so forth), which in a way, it is. Due to its dangerous reputation, it's incredibly popular, especially with those who are trying to look edgy and dangerous (particularly teenagers).

If one is openly carrying weapons, you can expect the armed guards stationed in the room to start following you closely; otherwise they'll leave you be. The guards are unlikely to care much about any disturbances, so long as they don't start disrupting everybody's business. Customers are not to venture further into the Undercellar without permission and an escort.

And behind that edgy, but mostly harmless veneer visitors play at and never see past is the real Undercellar, which is every bit as dark as its rumoured to be.

The Guild has its offices down here, and other rooms are used for varying purposes by other criminals. Want to put a hit on somebody, watch somebody get murdered in a Bhaalist red room, smuggle people or whatever crimes against humanity you feel like seeking out, this'd be the place to do it.

The Undercellar is policed by nobody except the criminals who do their work down there; whatever might take place down there, neither the Watch nor the Fists have any desire to know about them if you try and bring them to light. Want to avoid bad things? Don't get involved with the Undercellar.

The sprawling, pitch-black maze - if one knows how to navigate it - is a good way to get around the Upper City without detection. Somewhere down there is a passage that goes deeper, leading further into the earth and into the Undercity.

The Undercity is, clue in the name, the dead remains of a city buried beneath the living Baldur's Gate (specifically the original city that became the Upper City). At its heart is the Temple of Bhaal, and the city is inhabited by Bhaalists, alive and dead; the original, now undead, inhabitants of the undercity and any victims of the temple that have joined them.

-

The Outer City, Cliffgate and Blackgate are not technically parts of the city, being constructed outside of them.

The soil surrounding the city is little use for agriculture, but it is sufficient for grazing, so most farmers are the likes of shepherds and cattle farmers. As livestock and large animals are not permitted inside the city, cattle markets, stables and such businesses will be found there. Many of the less pleasant businesses, such as butchers and tanners, have relocated here to spare the rest of the city the smell and mess.

Much of the structures are semi-permanent in nature, and the areas are not subject to official oversight or in possession of any particular infrastructure. They aren't policed by the Fist or the watch, the area is near enough lawless, and crime is frequent. "Security" tends to be overseen by the Guild, and while the government doesn't tax outside the walls, residents still have to pay their dues to the local thieves and thugs.

The Outer City is as crowded as the Lower City, but less sanitary or orderly: these places are dirty, loud, smell a lot and tend to be quite dangerous. Many of the residents are farmers, criminals and foreigners and immigrants of varying generation who can't afford or find a place in the city proper.

The Blackgate is the historical slum area, and grew around the inland-facing Black Gate to the North West, growing around the Trade Way connecting The Gate to Waterdeep.

The Tumbledown district, located in Cliffgate outside the city gate of the same name, is the middle child of the expansions, leading down the cliffs. The land was owned by the Szarr family generations ago, before they were all (supposedly) slaughtered by a rival family in the night. Tumbledown is an extremely foggy area, full of graveyards and tombs, and rumours abound that the ghosts of the dead Szarrs haunt the streets there and steal people away. People do disappear there, but most people are sceptical that it's due to ghosts.

The Outer City is a newer, larger slum that grew around the Basilisk Gate and spread along the Coast Way - the road between the Gate and Athkatla - as the city population exploded at the end of the 14th century.

Immigrant communities have taken the opportunity to build their own settlements in the Outer City, styled in their own architectural styles, such as Little Calimshan; a tenement on Wyrm's Crossing is exclusively occupied by halflings; Whitkeep houses a gnomish community who does most of the city's tinsmithing; half-orcs lodge in Stoneyes; a shield dwarven community is located in Shieldgate.

These communities are considered outsiders by most Baldurians, and generally there's no love lost between those inside the walls and outside.

#...the Durge player in me is looking at all the various ways one could go undercover as an assassin I must admit #Karlach is actually a good example of how surnames work in the Realms: she was born/raised in Cliffgate so it's her “surname” #long post

[obsessivevoidkitten]

A Moth To His Flame

 Yandere Rosy Maple Moth Fae x Gender Neutral Human to Fae Reader (CW: Moth transformation, pheromones, kidnapping, stalking, yandere moth-like fae, no smut, general yandere behavior) Word Count: 1.5k 

(I typed this up in under 2 hours, not beta read so I hope you will forgive any mistakes. Also sorry if there are any formatting anomalies, I had some issues adding a “keep reading” line. I made a post a couple weeks ago about having the idea for this fic and here it finally is! Enjoy!) 

 You did not know what had attracted him to you. Perhaps it was your way with plants, or your vibrant colorful aesthetic, hell it could even just be your scent for all you knew. Whatever the reason he was head over heels for you and you really wished he wasn’t. Very nearly every single day this mothy fae man wandered out of the forest and tried to flirt with you as you tended your many crops.

 It started towards the end of spring about a year ago. He came walking out of the forest seemingly at random and had introduced himself as Basil. He was a tall moth like fae, with large pink and yellow wings and bands of fluff around his wrists, ankles, and neck. His head was entirely like a human’s except for the feathery antenna sticking out from his curly pink hair. You were not frightened, fae and humans interacted all the time where you lived and it was not an odd occurrence to see one, but you did wonder why he had approached you.

 “Well, I am (Y/N), what can I help you with Basil?” You thought perhaps he wanted to purchase some of your crops, though it was still odd to be approached when your market stall and signs were not posted.

 “Oh, well, I thought you were really cute and I was wondering if you wanted to go out with me sometime?” Basil flashed you a sweet smile. That was definitely odd considering he had never seen you before, but perhaps you would think it odder had you known that he had been watching you from the woods ever since you moved in over a year ago.

 You had politely declined his date offer, telling him that you two did not know each other and you were not really too interested in dating right now, but almost everyday that you were outside he approached you, made some small talk, asked how you were doing, and inevitably asked if you had changed your mind about letting him take you some place.

 Now that around a year had passed you had gotten to know him pretty well but you remained uninterested in him romantically. It may be a bit of a stereotype but you could not help but worry he was hiding something and might be trying to trick you in some way, and even if he wasn’t you just were not into him.

 Basil, on the other hand, was more interested in you than ever. You were so cute and small compared to him, and your human ways were so fascinating, like how you tended to your plants so sweetly. He wanted to tend to you that way~ You were such a nice human and as far as he was concerned you should just let him take care of you.

 Eventually with all his pestering you agreed to exactly ONE date. He was ecstatic, you had FINALLY seen that he was a good mate for you and agreed to let him “take you some place nice.”

 And, well, he did technically hold up his side of the bargain. He took you to his own gardens, deep in the woods there lay a path accessible only to fae and those with a fae escort that took you to their realm.

 His cottage and surrounding gardens were surreal, the plants were like something out of a dream, the sunlight was golden and everything seemed to shimmer and glow. And when night time came the blooms really did glow under the silver blue light of the moon.

 Honestly you had had a great time exploring Basil’s personal gardens and drinking tea with him in his cottage, but it was getting late and you really had to leave, and you had only accepted the date to end Basil’s pestering, and though you wanted to remain friends you were still uninterested in being his partner.

 “Hey, this was great Basil, but… I still really do not want to date anyone right now.. I hope we can still be friends though!” You looked down nervously. “And uh… I should really be getting back ho-”

 Basil stared at you intensely with his golden eyes as he spoke, “No, I don’t think so (Y/N), you agreed that I could take you some place nice, there was nothing in our verbal contract about me having to take you back.” He wisely grabbed your wrist and pulled you to him before you could react. He had not wanted it to come to this, but he was not opposed to making you stay with him, he knew deep down you had to like him, you were always so polite to him and you yourself had agreed to a date with him.

 The strong fae dragged you kicking and screaming back to his cottage. What had seemed so idyllic and cozy in the day time now only filled you with dread as you were forced inside.

 “I really am a nice guy, you need to just let me take care of you!”

 Basil kept you trapped for weeks in his cottage, he had used a spell that made it impossible for you to leave. He kept trying sweetly to get you to talk to him, but you adamantly refused to say anything other than demands that you be released. But… that really wasn’t part of the deal he made with you so he just wouldn’t do something that silly.

 Besides, he knew you would show your love for him eventually, you just needed a little help was all. Basil tried gifts of the type a human could only dream, he tried candies and other various sweets, he tried physical affection, he made you cups of fancy teas, and offered to let you garden the most wondrous fae plants. He even attempted to use his mothy pheromones to whoo you, it was considered high romance in the mothy fae realm, but as you were human they just flustered you slightly.

 You refused all of it, you just wanted to be taken home and left alone, you told him you never even wanted to see him again.

 Finally he decided he would just turn you into a fae like him. You would be fully at the mercy of his pheromones and completely attracted to him. You had not been born as a mothy fae and you had no resistance to them. Plus you would look just too perfect with antenna, wings, and cute pink moth fluff. Basil had been planning to turn you into his little moth mate since the very first time he had laid eyes on you, but he had wanted to wait until you were willing so the process would be less scary for you. But oh well, you’d forgive him, this was just that nudge you needed to be able to confess your love for him.

 Basil approached you with a strange look in his eye that you couldn’t place, you scooted into the corner of the room but he still approached, stopping when he was a few feet away from you. He did not say anything and you were a bit scared, what if he decided that you weren’t worth the trouble, or worse, what if he decided he was going to be more violent in his persuasion attempts?

 Basil began flapping his large wings and shimmering powder coated your entire body, you went completely limp. You were fully conscious of your surroundings but you were paralyzed, unable to even scream. He easily picked you up and pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead before laying you on his large bed.

 “I know you’re scared babe, but I am just trying to help you okay?”

 Basil began the task of lovingly wrapping you in his own soft magical silk produced from his wrists. Within hours you couldn’t see a thing and were fully trapped within a cocoon, you could hear Basil mumbling some sort of spell before he lay beside your cocooned form and wrapped an arm around you in what was intended to be a comforting gesture.

 But nothing could comfort you now, over the next 24 hours you slowly became a fae like him. It started with an intense itching that you were powerless to do anything about as fluffy fur grew in the same places that he had it, then an immense pain in your back and head as you sprouted antenna and wings.

 Finally, mercifully, the pain subsided. You planned to fight viciously with your captor. Even though somehow his past actions now seemed somehow a bit romantic as your brain chemistry and perspective of his behavior had been forcibly altered by your transformation.

 Not so much that you actually wanted to be his though, but that changed immediately when the silk cocoon fell away. Your new antenna instantly picked up on a heady intoxicating scent, what WAS that? You sniffed and inhaled deeply in his direction as your antenna began twitching from his pheromones.

It was the scent of a strong and loving mate, just for you! You buried your face into his neck as your antenna continued twitching.

 Basil held you close, kissing the top of your head sweetly and rubbing your antenna against his as he cooed softly. It had taken years, but you were finally where you were always meant to be, at his side as his little mate.

#yandere teratophilia #yandere terato #yandere exophilia #yandere male x gender neutral reader #gender neutral reader #yandere boyfriend #yandere moth #yandere fae #my ocs #my oc Basil #male x gender neutral reader #terato

[thepaintpirate]

| One piece characters and a tall Y/n p.t 3 |

Featuring - Red Haired, Warlords/Cross guild

G/n

Shanks -

He likes this. He likes this a lot. He will lean on you though and he will use his full dead weight on you, so be careful.

In general he likes the look of all people too, they're aesthetically pleasing. This man smacks people's asses though, friend or partner, and he will try to exploit your height to his advantage with this.

Benn Beckman -

Not too bothered, it's not a big deal to him. Just don't make him feel small, not like you really could, or he will show you just who's in charge here.

For some reason he's very drawn to long arms, they're just something he likes.

Yassop -

Immediately no. He's not having this. He will not stand for it. It's okay though, push him over because he's acting like a child.

Anyway, he'll get used to it but don't tease him relentlessly (please do)

Boa Hancock -

She sees most people as beneath her so this is a change. She's not liking it so much, especially being on eye level with you or looking up.

Eventually, if she likes you enough, she'll have to suck it up and deal with it.

Doflamingo -

(I'm going to pre warn you, I'm not a Doffy fan. I despise this man)

Ugly looking smile, and it's hard to tell if he wants to cut you down or if he's actually enjoying this. If he does actually like you enough it will be fine but he'll complain about having to crane his neck.

Do not feel bad for him, he deserves the pain for being naturally tall in the first place.

Crocodile -

Not a happy lad.

It bothers him but he doesn't hate it, he will warm up to it eventually. But don't comment on it or he will threaten to turn you into dust.

He likes long legs though so this is a bonus, especially if you're someone who wears skirts or dress trousers.

Mihawk -

Not an issue, it's not something he'll notice so much. There's too many tall people on the Grand Line for him to be bothered anymore.

But if he's got a soft spot for you, he will complete you on it if you're feeling bad.

Buggy -

He wants to climb you, but he's also intimidated.

Step on him? He's not sure if he wants to to or not. But for some reason he does find this attractive. Especially if you're leaning over him. He'll blush, a lot.

Again let me know who to add and also I do requests as well, it helps because I'm not good at coming up with scenarios. I also do oneshots if requested.

#one piece #one piece headcanons #one piece x reader #shanks #benn beckman #yassop #red haired pirates #seven warlords #donquixote doflamingo #boa hancock #crocodile one piece #dracule mihawk #one piece buggy

[onyourhyuck]

Oops! I Did It Again. | Huang Renjun. (M)

Prologue- “I’m sorry but you’re a player. I’m not falling for it again.” + “Come on baby. You can do it again. Three times a charm.”

summary: you’re a popular player at your university. You catch people like they are pokemons. Huang Renjun fell at your demise twice but he is telling himself he won’t go back to you for a third time. That’s what they all say however…

the warnings: player!fem reader x Huang Renjun. smut and suggestive. this relationship is typical friends with benefits that’s on and off. reader and renjun have a sorta toxic dynamic (fr red flags together). grinding. sex on top of their car(?) in an empty parking lot.

the notes- inspired by Britney Spears Oops I did it again.

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renjun was done with your excessive player tactics that leave him high and then you leave him low to dry. one day you’re so in love with him and the next day you are back to your usual routine. pulling people around place to place by strings as if they were your own little brand puppets. well renjun is most definitely not going to let you use him like this. no way in hell. you can continue dreaming about it but it will never happen. that’s what he told himself. But his best friend, Chenle, thinks otherwise.

He grits his teeth as he squeezes the pen in between the two fingers watching you come forward slowly with a wide smirk and a lollipop stuck on your cherry red lips. those same devilish lips were round his cock two days ago, they should’ve stayed on there considering he’s about to be your victim now. Chenle bellows. “That is my cue to leave man. Good luck. You’re probably going to end up hooking up with her again.” The blonde heavily emphasis on it.

Renjun turns around side-glaring his beautiful doe-Iris at the boy. “I won’t hook up with her again.” he hiss.

“that’s what you said the second time.” chenle sang walking away from the dark and empty parking lot with no car but renjun’s red mercedes. the car is the old version from the 90s; vintage and aesthetically pleasing in the 21st century. now that you two were alone you lean on the car pushing one hand around renjun who was leaning on the door. your face barely giving him space and the sweet favourable raspberry lollipop makes a satisfying small but clear ‘pop’ in between your lips. With a deep sigh you tilt your head cutely.

he hates how attractive you are. Your magnetic field has no reason to be this radiant where he can only see and think of you wherever he goes. The way those denim blow shorts rest upon your figure so nicely, fitting your round ass and the curve thin waist with your little heart shape belly piercing out; the open white shirt sleeves rolling up on the forearms and the white tank top revealing the cleavage blocking renjun’s sight makes it awfully hard to parry out of sight. the way your arms block him from exiting the small space your arms gave him where so you can lean with your intimidating flirtatious man-eater eyes laying upon him as if he were your one and only prey. in all honesty, he were your favourite. You love the power he gives over your when you darn well about the way you make him head over heels. The charge he gives you so submissively but at the same time he was hard to tame down too. there is no doubt you were hard to obtain and get because of how much your dating lifestyle differs from setting down but renjun wasn’t clinging on you. he wasn’t expecting anything less than one night stand. even though he’s practically in love with you, you’re using him till he can’t give out more— . This makes renjun different from the other people you slept with.

he isn’t easy. You love challenges. You’re back for more until he breaks down and Renjun knows. He rolls his eyes to the side at the momentarily silence. “What do you want y/n?” You only smirk at him. “I want you babe.”

“Very funny.” Renjun pushes your two arms back to you and off the car. You lick the lollipop as you trail softly, watching the car.

“Go to your other hoes. You seem to never run out of them.” He said shading past you as you smile only at those pathetically pity words ; oh how cute renjun is when he sulks and pretends he isn’t hurt by your lifestyle. you can only lean on the front of the car where you follow him.

You sneakily add with a wink hitting him. “You are my favourite hoe, injun.” renjun couldn’t lie when his nickname rolls out your lips like a melodic song— changing the subject he murmurs lowly. “don’t call me that.” he throws.

You turn around looking at him with blank eyes, questioning what he had said. renjun looks back at you with careful eyes watching yours, trying the best to not sail and get lost in those ocean eyes. “You can’t call me injun. Only friends call me that.”

“ouch so cold hearted baby. two days ago i was allowed to scream your name so loud my neighbours know you. they haven’t even met you.” you point out bringing the both of you to reminisce the lovely night you spend with him for the second time, the night he cannot forget no matter how much he tried to. a reddish colour tints his cheeks and you grin ear to ear as those round brown eyes staring into yours widen in shock. “Remember now? our beautiful night we spent together. God i can’t forget that. the way you were moaning my name all night long, kissing each other.” you trail listing all sorts of dirty things you’ve done together that might. The way you tied him up and edged him for hours. his body shivers when you lean closer bringing your lips close to his but renjun was quick to snap out of it.

he moves away as he lets out a big deeply sigh. he looks back at you with hateful eyes but something on them were still love. “I’m sorry but you’re a player. I’m not falling for it again.” He strictly bellows at you with a belittle tone enough to make you feel more adrenaline and rush to prove him wrong . He thinks he can restrain himself? He could barely do it two days ago and four days ago where your first time together happened. What’s he so sure about the third? you can’t wait to break down his spirit. Your hands reach over cupping his face so lovingly, the way your touch melts him like he were an ice cream on a hot summer day was inane.

Your voice seductively touches the tip of his trembling heart at your service. You just have to play your strings there and there and he will be running to you. Chasing you. “Come on baby. You can do it again. Three times a charm.” You were so quickly witty. Renjun felt himself move forward as you pulled away suddenly.

He can’t stay away from you. He can’t forget you. He cannot get enough of you; at this point is he even human? Or is he only your favourite boy toy? As much as that sounds like heaven to renjun, he knows how his feelings play a big role on your advantage. But he can’t help but fall in a little deeper and wanting to indulge. He’s wishing to go back. His mind , heart, body , spirit all of them want to crawl back right at you.

Renjun saw your back turn to him when you start to walk away from the car entirely. In your head there was a five second count down; 1. 2. 3. 4… and 5. On the final number a hand reaches to grab on your wrist pulling your body down on the car bonnet, lifting your perky ass on top of the vehicle he has your legs straddling his waist as he practically moans when reaching to roughly kiss you. You were so right, in less than five seconds he was dragging you back. Back to him. He crawled to you again. For the third time. In the never endless cycle of toxicity between you two it made yourself and him indulge proudly. Your skin on skin contact casts shivers and the rough wind brushing behind yours back only enhance the pleasure and adrenaline quickly.

Grinding on your core. Renjun was desperately finding a way to create fiction. You let out a sultry chuckle watching the boy whine a grunt.

“You’re so pathetic. Rejecting me and then running right back up.” You whisper to him and he looks at you with an embarrassed expression. “You’re one to talk y/n. You don’t fuck with the same people more than once. So why me?”

Silence engulfs your two before your scrunch and furrow your eyebrows together. Grabbing his shirt roughly pulling him forward where you kiss those lips so deep it makes them swollen and red. You couldn’t help but feel angry for being called out, because it is true. You just hoped he didn’t notice. You don’t know why you’re always coming back for more but nevertheless, he was your favourite so perhaps that’s why. You pull away. String saliva connecting you and Renjun who were lost and drunk on your sex completely, you push him on top where you are on his lap straddling it with a direct grind between your entrance and his harden crotch. Soft moans linger into the air. He can’t believe he is going to fuck you out into the open on top of his car— and where any car can come in this parking lot.

“Just shut up and let me fuck you while you sit still and look pretty hm?”

It’s risky. But so are you. Renjun is aware what he brought upon himself and now the consequences to this will hit him in the morning.

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@onyourhyuck please refer from translating copyrighting and plagiarising my work thank youu! REBLOG AND FOLLOW ME FOR MORE UPDATES.

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[pascaloverx]

As It Was

Chapter One

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Summary: "When your ex-husband shows up in the middle of the night, asking for your help, the right thing to do would be to leave him to fend for himself, wouldn't it?"

Our protagonist decides to embark on an adventure to clear her ex-husband's name as a scapegoat. Together with a small team, they will do whatever it takes to keep James Barnes away from prison and perhaps rekindle flames from the past."

Warnings: use of violence, future adult content and inappropriate language. Minors are advised not to read or engage with this story.

James Buchanan Barnes entered my life at an unexpected moment. We were at a party organized by my best friend Wanda. She and her girlfriend were celebrating their first home together, while I was celebrating a canceled date on top of another. My father, who was a military commander at the time, had arranged a meeting with his best friend's godson. This godson apparently was too busy for a tedious date with someone's daughter. I wasn't feeling very happy with myself when James approached to ask if I wanted some snacks. He was trying to be social since Sam had made a bet with him that involved someone buying beer for the other for a year. That night, James earned free beer for a year when he managed to hold a conversation with me for more than twenty minutes. It was easy to talk to someone who was just as uncomfortable as I was. I confess that the fact that James had a job similar to my father's made me insecure at the beginning of the relationship. But something about the way he stood out among the people at that barbecue made me want to know more about him. He seemed out of place even though he interacted with other people, in reality, he only interacted with Sam and Yelena throughout the night. There were people trying to approach him, striking up a conversation or touching his arm. He seemed so uncomfortable that I even wondered how someone who didn't seem to like crowds became friends with Sam Wilson. In fact, I was about to leave when James asked me if I wanted more hamburgers.

"Do you know that in Brazil, barbecue is not about hamburgers and sausages made on a grill but about meat?" I said, trying to be as random as possible to see if I could prolong our interaction. Ironically, Yelena challenged me to hold a conversation with any unknown person at the party for at least five minutes.

"Are you Brazilian or just a culturally curious person?" James asked, holding a tray with hamburgers. At that moment, I stopped to observe his face completely, his stubble and long hair gave him the aesthetic of a bad boy excluded from society. I thought to myself that if we were in high school, he would be the type of guy who would attract me.

"A little bit of both. My mother was Brazilian, and I simply got curious about what her life was like before I existed," I replied, grabbing one of the hamburgers from the tray. I moved away from James because I imagined he would offer hamburgers to other people, but he remained still.

"I've never been to Brazil, maybe one day I can have a real Brazilian barbecue and say which one is the tastiest."

"When I was little, my mom used to say it was one of the things she missed the most, so I believe you won't regret it." I remember James's smug smile when I distanced myself from him, thinking our conversation had ended. Honestly, in my defense, he seemed to want an excuse to get away from that barbecue.

"Do you usually leave people talking to themselves or do you just really not like me?" He spoke almost whispering close to my ear. His voice at that moment made my whole body shiver. Barnes typically used the power of his voice against me when he wanted to win an argument. It always worked.

"I thought after the cooking class you'd be eager to go home, maybe have a nice drink and do what a man like you does best on a Saturday night." I spoke shyly because, honestly, James Barnes had a gaze that would make anyone feel inappropriate for talking to him.

"Then come with me, accompany me while I do what a man does best on a Saturday night. I'm sure your company will only enhance any lurid thoughts that may be crossing your mind right now. Not to mention, you seem just as eager to stay here as I am." His words exuded confidence, and I stared at him, surprised by his sudden invitation.

"Do you have a habit of inviting any stranger to accompany you home, or am I the lucky one tonight?" I'm trying not to accept your invitation too quickly, perhaps it's my attempt to play hard to get or my inexperience with flirting.

"You're not a stranger. You're Wanda's best friend, who happens to be my best friend's girlfriend." He approaches as if he's analyzing me or trying to read my thoughts. I smile softly, thinking that Wanda must be watching this scene from afar, thinking that this will be the thousandth time she tries to set me up with someone and it might be the thousandth time I turn the guy down. I take a deep breath, counting to five mentally to make sure I respond to Barnes' invitation with confidence.

"You don't even know my name, yet you want my company tonight?" I say as we flirt with our eyes. It seems like we've entered into a mental competition to see who can flirt better.

"Naturally, for what I have in mind for the future of our minds, we'll have to exchange names, but that's just a minor detail. The most important thing is to know if I have your consent to turn this quiet night into one of the most memorable ones you've ever had." Officially, I'm in his hands for the night. There's no fighting it, even though I don't even know why I'm fighting against my instinct to go home with this handsome man with piercing blue eyes.

"My name is Melisa, and you have permission to show me how much potential you have to make this night memorable. But can you live up to the expectations you're creating?"

"I guess we'll have to find out together, Melisa." He took my hand, guiding me towards his motorcycle. I remember my shocked reaction when I saw that he rode a motorcycle. I remember how he spent countless minutes trying to convince me that motorcycles were safe when driven by a professional. I remember asking if he was a biker and receiving a hearty laugh in response.

I remember how he touched his long hair and brushed the strands that were near his eye to the back. That night was truly memorable, but not for the reasons we expected. It was the night I discovered who James Buchanan Barnes truly was. A man who takes you to his home and despite being eager for a make-out session to help out his drunk best friend who is too intoxicated to drive. A man who takes you home and convinces you that you won't be able to move on with your life until you find out if he's truly worth it. The man who takes three dates to take you to bed. The man who makes you want to marry him just a year and a half after you start dating because he feels like he can't live without you. But he's also the man who, when he's wrong, simply shuts himself off from the world until there's no other choice but to leave him there.

I could spend my whole life trying to explain James Barnes, but I would simply like to share what Barnes currently means to me.He is the ex-husband whom I swore never to let back into my house, and right now, I am staring at him. I'm staring at him while holding a baseball bat that I keep for "emergencies."

He is wet, wearing a soaked white shirt, most likely due to the heavy rain outside. His hair looks very different from the last time I saw him. It's short, while his beard seems to have been left unshaven for a while. He's breathing heavily, perhaps he ran here or is fleeing from something. The gaze that once left me speechless now made me question everything. I was ready to swing that bat at James' head when he whispered, "I know you've probably wanted to hit me with that bat since the divorce, but can we save this reckoning for when I'm not running away?"

"Running away from whom, Barnes?" I assure you that my facial expression must be as cold as the tone of voice I'm using. But after the divorce, all I was left with was anger towards the man I used to call my husband.

"There's still that secret passage you called stupid when I suggested it, but later said it would be a good hiding spot in case one of us got arrested." He seems to ignore my question or my utterly confused expression. I nod silently, pointing towards the end of the hallway in our house. Well, now it's my house, but it used to be ours.

Instead of moving forward and entering that secret passage which, yes, if you've seen any action movie, you know it's usually hidden behind a mirror or a bookshelf, Barnes approaches me with a look of "I forgot to tell you" that he used to give me before delivering bad news.

"The police will be here in about five minutes, and I need you to act as if you haven't seen me in years. Be the daughter your father raised and the clever woman I fell in love with, and make sure they leave without suspecting anything. That's the most I can tell you in such a short time, and I need you to trust me just one more time."

James was so quick that before I could even respond, he had already disappeared into the secret room of the house. I could only curse myself internally for keeping that place a secret, even though it had been years since my divorce. At that moment, memories of the day I introduced James to my father flooded back. My father, who had gone to great lengths to set me up with his friend's godson, was not at all pleased to learn that his beloved daughter was dating a man who worked as a government agent.My father actually didn't like James. He would say that something about Barnes made him believe that one day I would be interrogated by the police to talk about James. My thoughts were interrupted by knocks on the door, followed by a police officer asking me to open the door. It was only at that moment that I realized I wasn't properly dressed to receive anyone at home. The truth is, I was getting ready for a date when I heard a noise on the first floor of the house. So, I'm just wearing my underwear and a robe that doesn't fully cover my body. But that doesn't stop me from opening the door right after hearing the police officer call my name.

"Good evening, officers. How can I assist you?" I say, trying to hide the lower part of my body behind the door. I wish I had had time to put on more decent clothing. The police officers are clearly scrutinizing my behavior, attempting to find any trace of James through the small opening of the door.

"Is your husband James Buchanan Barnes, miss?" The older, graying police officer speaks in an authoritative tone.

"He used to be, sir. Is something wrong with him?" I try to appear as surprised and innocent as possible. I know that many law enforcement officers tend to believe people who seem somewhat innocent.

"I'm sorry to inform you, but your husband is wanted for suspicion of being involved with an international smuggler named Killian. We believe Mr. Barnes may have provided unauthorized access to national security information." Now I'm truly shocked, perhaps nervous enough for the officers to notice a slight twitch in my left eye. My hands start to sweat as I think about the slightest chance of them knowing that James is here.

"And you believe he would come to his ex-wife's house in the middle of the night, after years, to hide from the police or whoever else is after him?" Years ago, my father taught me that the key to telling a good lie is to make the truth sound absurd. I am practicing one of his many teachings with those whom he would hate to know I'm trying to deceive. You see, my father worked for years to keep this country free from criminality and to apprehend those who threaten it in any way.

"We believe he might reach out to you or this residence seeking comfort or assistance, in which case we advise you to contact us immediately. Otherwise, it will be assumed that you are an accomplice." The other police officer spoke, trying to intimidate me. It didn't work.

"Well... in that case, as soon as I see my ex-husband, you'll be the first to know. Now, if you'll excuse me, I need to get ready for a date. You know, I'm trying to move on after the divorce."

I give them a completely nonchalant smile. They seem to have believed that I don't know anything about James, but they don't seem to have understood that I'm no longer his wife. I can't blame them; at this moment, even I am unsure if we really are no longer married.

"We hope we haven't disturbed your evening. Here's a number for you to call if you see your husband. Please do not hesitate to call if you have any information about him." The older police officer speaks, handing me a card with a number. I nod, confirming that I will assist them, and watch as they make their way back to the patrol car.

For a moment, I breathe a sigh of relief, but then I remember that my ex-husband is still hiding here. I know I can't keep him here for long, so I decide to start planning what to do next. I have a plan that might work to get James out of here before the police come back with a warrant. I can't help but think that whatever I do, it has to be quick because I do have a date, and if I'm absent, I know my father will become suspicious. Before going to talk to James, I went upstairs and put on the dress that was laying on the bed. Fortunately, I was almost ready, which would help me not to be too late for the date. As I put on my shoes, I send a message to the man I'm going out with, letting him know that I'll be running late. I also send a message to Sam, using a coded message that only he can understand. In reality, I simply sent a message saying that he had forgotten his favorite cleats here and that it would be good for him to come and get them for the weekend game. He would know that I needed him urgently because we agreed to send messages like this in case we needed help. I think he understood, as he replied that since the game was very important, he would come to pick up the cleats as soon as possible. Sam has been James' best friend for as long as I've known him. I'm sure Sam will want to be involved in helping out.

I finish getting ready for the date and head downstairs to find the secret passage where James is hiding. I stomp my feet on the ground twice with force to secretly signal that I'm alone. Barnes created several secret codes to ensure I was prepared for any situation during our marriage. For a moment, I feel strange for still remembering those things.

"You took all this time to get ready knowing that I was here waiting for you?" James's tone of voice indicates that he's not very happy with me. His gaze reflects a minimal level of patience, something I witnessed only a few times during our marriage. Unfortunately, the damn man is irresistibly more attractive when he's angry.

"It's funny how you're the one indignant when I'm the one being interrogated by the police right after my ex-husband breaks into my house. And I'm dressed up because I have a date that I can't cancel, as my father would quickly find out, and you, James Barnes, certainly wouldn't want my father suspecting why I missed this date." I know I'll seem like a submissive daughter to my father, but he has been trying to set me up with Steve Rogers, an FBI prodigy who is his best friend's godson, for a year now. He would connect the dots as soon as he found out about James. He approaches me with a deeply concerned look, and I feel like I could get lost in the scent of his perfume. It's not overpowering, but it's distinctive, and it's incredible that he still smells so good after all these years.

"Speaking of your father, you can't tell him anything about this. I... I found out just minutes before being framed that he is the true partner of Killian." Before I can even muster a reaction, I hear the sound of someone knocking on the door and look at James, who has a facial expression that makes me think he's contemplating ways to escape.

"Don't even think about it, Barnes. I'll handle whoever is here, and you'll wait for me while we figure out a way to keep you from getting arrested or killed." Few moments in my relationship with James were about us disagreeing with each other because we knew that two stubborn people rarely reach a consensus. He seems to understand what I'm saying, but I don't trust that he will obey me.

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