#at least the other characters have a bit more variety

[0-k-4]

psychoanalysing people by observing reccurent patterns in their OCs would be a far more efficient method than whatever shit freud was on

#i have never made up a MC that was that really different from their predecessor since i created okamy at age 13 #some characteristics come and go but the very core stays the same #at least the other characters have a bit more variety #but yeah. cali/al/eurydice/the asterion MC/sascha/zed/tev ater/the hunter/nive/the deserts garden MC/dale/thespace musician/auxanne/evenNOX #ETC ETC i cant remember all of them rn #even the ones from minors projects #well this cant be helped. i shall create more okamydlings #anyway

[tropical-lazor-beams]

okay but honest to god the reason the king of town has taken the most notable dip in appearances outside of mocking his own character is because he was always a character with no decent relationships with others. i mean coach z had basically nothing to him outside of the accent & some sports things that didn’t last very long, but he’s got some relationships with marzipan & bubs that have given him room to stay. strong mad is & has been very similarly one-note to the kot but he’s got not only his relationship with sb & the cheat as a trio but his straightforward bond with the cheat on its own. they can appear together doing lots of things. meanwhile what has the kot got, the other members of the castle? if they had stuck with him being marzipan’s father that’d give him an excuse to have some kind of dynamic with her but as it stands he has got no relationship with a member of the main cast that isn’t just that other character’s default manner of interacting with someone else.

#bubs hasn't got very much in terms of character dynamics with anyone other than coach z but his basic premise is already so #intentionally versatile he doesn't need as much on top of that. concessions stand owner (greedy & unorthodox) is a great starting point #it's an easy springboard for reasonable interactions with the rest of the cast in a variety of situations- strong bad especially #you'd have to put a bit more effort into making the kot a reasonable destination for sb especially since he's set up as a king that does #not much of anything. if it weren't for the poopsmith being vaguely a member of the main cast you could give the kot the gimmick of #always having some -smith on hand that can apply to whatever the plot's situation is but even then it's #kind of hard to see that with as much versatility as the cheat's odd little abilities & habits or strong sad's interests or bub's services #pom pom similarly has seen less screen time even beyond not having a voice because he's kind of got a friendship with homestar #that gets messed around with but he has basically nothing else. he still has at least got ''intense skill'' as an excuse for his presence #queuesmith

[amandacanwrite]

I would like to share a few head canons for Gale Dekarios being in love with tav/you. If you liked this one and have a request for another character let me know. These ones have just been percolating for a bit.

In Battle

He tries very hard to stay near you. He doesn’t like it when you go off on your own. He knows he doesn’t quite have the strength of Karlach or the sure footedness of Astarion, but he’s not just going to let you fight everyone on your own.

Sometimes he gets a little hurt that you always put yourself in harms way/take so much of the damage on the battlefield. Don’t you know that losing you would destroy him?

You have never witnessed it, but according to the other party members he goes feral if you’re knocked unconscious.

When you wake up it’s always with your head cradled in his lap as shadowheart works on the worst of the wounds.

He does this thing with his magic where he makes his hands really cold. It feels nice on your feverish skin as he gently smooths your hair away from your face, you don’t know why you feel so nauseous and sweaty after you black out but this little gesture helps you come back smoothly.

He has a hard time sleeping after a rough encounter. He keeps waking up and making sure you’re still breathing. In the end he gives up on sleeping and just reads by the fire, calming his nerves to the sound of your steady, stable breathing.

In Camp

He is hilariously fussy about what you eat.

“No, you ABSOLUTELY CANNOT subsist off of a loaf of bread, three olives and a bottle of wine. We are no longer young scholars barely SCRAPING by—“

Very resourceful when it comes to what you can scrape together out of barrels around camp. You were very skeptical when you watched him putting a variety of different bones into a cauldron as you left him back in camp one day. But you came back to a rich stew full of potatoes, some wild rice and even some cut up apple in the mix.

He likes it when you play with his hair. But he has to very pointedly avoid it if he’s in the middle of reading up on something.

“Darling, are you certain you’re not practiced in the arcane arts? I do think you’ve got some magic in those fingertips of yours, at the very least, with how quickly they can put me to sleep.”

When You’re Alone

It’s simple. He worships you. Perhaps it’s because his last lover was a goddess but it seems to come easy for him; the reverent words, the gentle touches, the utter devotion. Sometimes you catch him just… looking at you. His eyes softly hooded, a relaxed curve to his lips. It’s your favorite to ask what’s on his mind when he looks at you like that.

“Hm? Oh, nothing much. I’ve just been observing. Did you know you purse your lips when you’re reading something that you disagree with? Yes—hah—just like that.”

He loves to read WITH you. Especially loves to show you some of his favorite tomes. He’ll get you all nestled up against him and hold the book down in front of you. He reads much faster than you, so he busies himself kissing behind your ear or playing with your hair until you turn the page.

Gods does he love it when you ask him questions about something to do with magic. He loves watching the glint in your eye when he’s helped you understand something.

You love it when you get him rolling on a topic of theory that you know he doesn’t get to talk about much. Sometimes he loses you when he gets into the minutiae, but he’s so damn cute when he’s ranting about the wonder in the world.

In Intimate Moments

(Potential NSFW below.)

Of course it is not a surprise that he’s a generous lover. What is a surprise is how demanding he can be when he feels like it. He knows you are no stranger to a challenge and he loves to make things more exciting by presenting you with one.

“Of course I’m aware of our companions in camp. But it’s not as if we can afford ourselves more privacy. You’re just going to have to quiet those lovely little sounds you make while I touch you… let’s see… it was here wasn’t it? Ah, ah… shhhh, my love. Those pointy ears of Astarion’s might pick even that tiny sound.”

Gods does he know how to string words together to leave you completely undone.

Sometimes foreplay is mostly talk. He can get you going without even touching you.

“My love, I’ve not been able to stop thinking of the ways I want to touch you all day. Shall I tell you what’s been on my mind?”

His breath tickles against your ear as his hands smooth over your clothed body, telling you how he wants to take you. It’s all the more flustering when you know he always keeps his word.

Love making always starts with a kiss, deep and slow.

You feel him smile into the kiss when he slips his fingers into the front of your trousers and he feels just how aroused he’s made you.

“You are exquisite. A delicacy of the highest quality. Do you know that?”

He’s not one to bang it out for a quickie. He doesn’t like to feel like he’s stealing his time with you, or like he’s a young man again and hastily getting whatever he can before heading back to the dormitories. Every touch, every word, every thrust is slow and deliberate. He wants to relish the feeling of it all. He wants to soak you in.

Somehow, he always smells good. Like cinnamon and tea and… some earthen, herbaceous scent you cant place.

So many cuddles after you’re done.

#bg3 tav #bg3 tav and gale #gale headcanons #gale dekarios #gale x tav #gale x reader #gale of waterdeep #bg3 headcanons #bg3 romance

[thexsilentxwordsmith]

Simon "Ghost" Riley x Fem!Reader

Fandom: Call of Duty

Character(s): Simon Riley, Reader

Summary: Simon is out at a stag party for Prices upcoming wedding when he comes how early with something important on his mind that he needs to see you to say. Is he just drunk or is it something more?

Word Count: 3.8 k

Warnings:

Author's Note: I just needed a little more fluff smut, so here is this. I have some other things planned for variety coming soon soon.

***

The ringing vibration of the front door opening and shutting with a bit of force caught you by surprise as you lay in bed, the phone in your hand the only light in the room as you bundled yourself under the covers to shield out the cold of that winter night. Eyes flitted up to the clock in the corner of your screen; you hadn't expected him to be home yet as you were sure there would be no sign of Simon until at least sunrise if past experience when he went out with the team was any indication.

Heavy stumbling footsteps sounded throughout the small apartment, getting closer with each passing second, before two distinct thuds of something weighted falling to the floor followed from Simon removing his shoes. The footsteps continued on a bit quieter now until they stopped just right outside the door to your bedroom. With a click the door was opened to reveal your boyfriend standing there, eyes searching for your form in the darkened room as he blocked out the light in the hallway from taking up the majority of the door frame.

Reaching up you flicked on the bedside lamp to illuminate everything in a soft yellow glow. Even with the dim light, brown eyes had to blink a few times to adjust as he propped himself up against the door frame until he could see properly. Setting your phone down on the bedside tabletop you gave him the once over as you untangled yourself from your sheet burrito.

“Is there any booze left out there or did you sorry lot clean out the entire stock?” you chuckled as you rolled over onto your back, eyes trailing him as he crossed into the room to stand at the foot of the bed. “Didn't think you'd be back so soon. Aren't stag nights supposed to go till the sun rises? I seriously doubt the boys were done yet.”

“Had to call it quits early,” he drunkenly strung his words together, accent thick and slightly slurred as the whiskey ran through his veins. 

Odd. “Why? Something happen?” you questioned curiously as you watched him throw off his overcoat and rip off his thin balaclava, short, dirty blonde hair springing back up from being crushed under the fabric as he reached to the back of his neck and gripped the collar of his t-shirt to pull it up and over his head, tossing it to the floor so that he stood before you bare-chested in his dark wash jeans that clung to his sizeable thighs. 

That bulky, broad chest was flushed pink in the center to match the staining through his cheeks, a product of his drinking mixed with the stifling warmth inside the string of bars the 141 found themselves venturing to in celebration of Price’s upcoming wedding. A playful grin crossed his pale lips as he stalked over to the bed and grabbed at the bottom edge of the bedding, pulling the sheets and comforter out from their place tucked under the mattress up so that he could climb in, letting them fall over him as he crawled underneath up towards you.

Parched lips weathered by the frozen air outside caressed your ankles and calves as that giant mass of man traveled up through the covers, taking his sweet time. Over your knees, thighs, and hips he peppered sloppy kisses along the skin as he went until you felt Simon’s rough fingertips brushing against the panties covering your pelvis as he tugged at the hem of your oversized sleep shirt, pulling it up so that he could shove himself inside it as far as he could go. Warmer kisses now made your stomach flutter where they were placed along your torso as his nose nuzzled into your abdomen until your warmth covered his face and heated his cold features.

“Nah, nothin’ like that. Fuckin’ needed to get home to ya is all,” he breathed those need-filled words into your skin under your clothes as he wrapped his arms around your waist. “Had a fuckin’ ridiculous cravin’ to see my beautiful girl, so I made up an excuse and told the boys I had ta go.” 

A large hand ran up and down the length of your right hip tracing pathways that he knew by heart, tempting smooth skin with his touch while his padded torso pressed itself over your thighs. He held on tight as if it had been days since he had last seen you in person. Over the years you’d been together you came to notice that whenever those arms were around your body you could pinpoint the exact moment when all the tension he always held in his shoulders would ease and his entire form would relax into you as if he had been holding his breath until the moment he touched you.  

You shook your head with another chuckle; it was always a delightful surprise just how he was even more affectionate when he was drunk. “You weren’t even gone that long. Miss me that much?” you questioned playfully as Simon kissed in delicate circles around your navel, lips eventually trailing upwards over temperate skin towards your ribcage to caress the delicate underside of your breasts with his mouth. 

“Always,” he returned, voice muffled by lips against your body. 

Everywhere he went your skin lit up, reacting to the prickly stubble on his cheeks as his face glided over your body until you were entranced by the feeling of him. Your hands kneaded at the muscles in his shoulder as you writhed beneath him and he would have continued to turn you into a puddle, but there was something he needed to do first; the real reason he had rushed home.  

Slipping out of your shirt he emerged from the top of the sheets, cropped hair tousled and cheeks even more pink. The scent of whiskey was on his breath, accentuated by the sting of tobacco and the frosty winter night. He moved up onto his knees between your legs, kneeling over top of you, sunset eyes drifting down your form from your face to your torso. 

“What?” you questioned as he sat there, taking you all in with gentle eyes that softened the longer he gazed. 

“It’s always been you and me, ya know,” he said as his hands wandered to find yours resting by your sides. Spreading them open with his fingers, he slipped his palms up against your own so that he could interlace those long digits between the empty spaces. “Through all the bullshit, all the long deployments and late nights, all the nightmares and the bad days. You’ve always been a fuckin’ rock for me through it all.”

Simon lifted your hands still wrapped in his and moved them up over your head as he laid himself over top of you until his face was mere inches from your own. 

“Well yeah, I love you ya know,” you agreed, unsure of why he was saying such things now. “But where is this coming from, baby?”

“Conversations tonight got me thinkin’ things again,” he admitted.

You raised an eyebrow. “What kind of things, hmm?” 

“Things I’ve been thinkin’ for a while now, just didn’t think I could make ‘em happen… or that maybe I shouldn’t. But maybe I can…maybe we can…” his words tripped over themselves with the quickening pounding of his heart.

“Simon, what are you trying to say?” 

He paused with a smile on his lips, sighing contentedly. His inebriated mind had nothing but the truth to give him as a response and so he spoke the words he never thought he’d get to say to anyone, but he was surprised how easily they rolled off his tongue now. “I’m tryin’ to say that I’ve been thinkin’ about how I wanna fuckin' marry ya, luv,” he stumbled out, copper gaze lingering on your eyes shimmering in the low light. “Don't want no one else to get a fuckin' chance to snatch ya up before I come to my senses and make sure your mine foreva’.”

You laughed it off, caught completely off-guard by his words. They say that drunk words are sober thoughts, but this was more than you had ever expected from him tonight. It wasn't that you hadn't thought about the possibility of such a future with Simon, you'd been together for long enough now that it was something you had hoped for, yet whenever the subject was approached the few times it was before it was met with hesitation on his part. There was no question that you knew he loved you, that you loved him, but taking that next huge step had never seemed like a priority and you were fine with that. Hearing him say it aloud so assuredly made your stomach flip with anticipation.

However you also knew he wasn't in a state to be thinking clearly and you didn't want to get ahead of yourself just yet. Tomorrow he could wake up, head pounding, and not even remember you had had this conversation in the first place. Best to wait until he could sober up before discussing such heavy things in any more detail. 

“You're drunk, baby,” you chuckled as your hand cupped against him and lingered on his face, thumb tenderly stroking his cheek. “We can talk about this later, okay?”

Closing his eyes he melted into your touch, so soft and silky against his rough face; it was like magic how you were his comfort. It was effortless, your love, and that was something he had never known. Everything had always been a struggle, an uphill battle that he had to sacrifice for, but being with you was the first time he had ever understood when people would talk about someone being their other half because you truly were his. 

“Maybe I’m a little fuckin’ sloshed,” he conceded, “but I ain't gotta be sober ta know that I’m tired of pretendin’ I’m some kind of cold-hearted monster that doesn’t want ta have some type a life outside of my work; like I haven’t been wantin’ ta give ya the title of missus, maybe start a family with ya and all that. Things I didn’t think I’d be able ta have till ya came along and fuckin’ changed everythin’.” 

Fluttering open his eyes they locked onto yours and there was not an ounce of apprehension to be found in their depths. “You’re serious?” you asked, watching for any subtle change in his face as you struggled to find air to fill your lungs.

Again he leaned into you, capturing your mouth within a kiss that spoke volumes of love into you so that the synapses in your brain misfired the longer your lips danced and worked to make your body feel as if it was floating. “As a fuckin’ heart attack,” he breathed against your mouth. “I sat there tonight listenin’ to Price go on and on about not wantin’ to waste anymore time denying tha life he wanted and it made me realize I can’t keep bein’ afraid to take tha plunge. Ya deserve someone ta be better than that, sweetheart. And do ya know what it is that I really fuckin’ want?”

Speech failed you in that moment as his lips brushed across yours, electricity sparking over them as he took a deep breath to fill himself with your scent as his grip on your hands above your head tightened. It was so easy the way you could become consumed by him; his touch, his words, they cast their spell over you in an instant to fill your heart to nearly breaking. And yet all you wanted was more.

You swallowed to gain control of your vocal chords, finally finding your voice. “What?” the simple question barely audible under your breath.

“What I fuckin’ want is for ya ta be my wife.”

You stopped breathing completely for a moment, heart fluttering frantically as the certainty in his statement filled up all that secret yearning in your soul, the one that desperately wanted to be claimed permanently no matter how much you denied it didn’t bother you not to be. 

“Are you asking me or telling me?” you stammered out in a whisper, afraid that this was all an illusion that would break apart the moment you got too loud. 

“I am askin’ ya right now if ya want to be Mrs. Riley,” he answered with a smile. “And don’t fuckin’ say I don’t know what I’m doin’ cause I do, luv. I do.”

Releasing you from his grasp he stretched himself all the way over to the chest of drawers near the bed and pulled open the one that contained the lockbox for his pistol. Pressing the numbered buttons on the front in the correct order he opened it and grabbed something out of the inside that you could not see before he set the lockbox on the ground. Sitting back upright, he held out his hand and inside was something small and square.

You sat up straight in the bed and looked from the velvet box up into his face with a gasp as he flipped the lid open to reveal a ring. “Got it a couple months back,” he admitted, “just wanted it ta be the right time. Kept fuckin’ talkin’ myself outta it cause I thought ya deserved better than me. But I want ya, sweetheart, I wanna make ya mine so fuckin’ bad if that’s what ya want too.” 

All you could hear was the sound of your heartbeat in your ears that drowned out everything else as one of Simon’s large hands cupped around your cheek. “Will ya marry me?”

“Simon,” you said his name so sweetly that it rendered his mind numb as tears pooled in your eyes and time seemed to stand still as he waited for you to finish your answer. “There’s nothing else I want more than to be married to you. Yes, my answer is yes.”

Simon’s reaction was visceral as he hurriedly leaned back down into you with back arching and crashed his lips upon yours, greedily drawing all the love from your mouth that he could as he captured your mouth over and over again. Unconsciously the ring box was discarded on the nightstand as his hands desperately needed to be filled with the being that made up his entire world; that was all that mattered. 

“Whatever the fuck I did to deserve ya I hope I continue to do it to keep ya,” he moaned into your open mouth while he pulled you onto his lap and you wrapped your hands around the back of his neck to keep yourself steady as you sat down on him. “You’re the only thing I’ll eva want.”

You let yourself sink into his embrace as his hands kneaded at your hips and ran over the curve of your ass, overcome with so many emotions that it was impossible not to get swept up in them all. “I’m yours,” you responded in a moan. “Not going anywhere.”

The sound of your soft, breathy voice creating music out of the tender sounds as his fingers sent shivers down your spine made the collected and stoic soldier crack at the seams and any trace of the disastrous thoughts that had plagued him about how this interaction would happen fell away; a fire roared to life in his chest, spreading throughout his limbs until his fingertips prickled with desperation as he lost himself in you until nothing else existed except what lay inside the bed.  

Simon was a moth drawn to your flame and if it killed him, then he knew now that he would happily burn.

His fingers went caressing along the lines of your body over your t-shirt as if he were ravenous, as if he hasn’t touched you in years: over hips and thighs, circling over the fullness of your backside, up and around to your back where he flattened his palms to run them up the length of your spine all the way to where he ran coarse fingers through your hair at the back of your head. A tangled mess of limbs and lips, raw and wanting, as his hands descended back down into your lap.

Grabbing the hem of your sleep shirt with his exploring fingers, he released your mouth for as long as it took to rip it off over your head and toss it somewhere onto the floor. “There she is,” he breathed before mouth was diving into all that newly exposed warm flesh. Simon’s mouth left your kiss-flushed face and traveled to your jaw, adorning it with his lips as he dragged them along the length and trailed them down to your neck where they meet his fingers who took over and followed down the line of your neck to your chest and around the soft tissue of your breasts.

Securing you to him with a strong arm around your waist, bare chest against bare chest, his hand rubbed across the length of your thighs until he decided to slip it in the crevasse between them. Up against your panty-clothed pussy he pressed his hand sending chills along your skin so that you’d buck against his hand and you could feel a smile grow on his mouth that now rested at the crook of your neck.

“I fuckin’ love makin’ ya feel good baby,” he groaned. “Christ, you’re so fuckin’ perfect… so perfect, pretty girl.”

Simon pushed his fingers up through the cloth until he was sure he had your petals pressed into your clit so that he could grind into it over and over until you began to ache something fierce. Your hips mirrored the work of his fingers as you rolled them over his hand, the excitement of the moment and the giddy feelings heightening all sensations so that the slightest bit of effort had you dripping.

Suddenly you pulled away from his mouth, leaving his lips missing your touch. “Take off your pants,” you said.

“Only if ya take off these tiny things,” Simon smiled as he pawed at your pelvis.

That was a deal easily made.

It was a mad scramble to remove the rest of the clothing that kept you apart, his jeans being ripped off in a flash as you pulled off your panties, but you were quick and resituated yourselves back in that intimate position of facing one another. His cock throbbed hard, the veiny appendage swollen and aching and ready to slide into you. With a firm grip he helped you situate yourself kneeling over his cock and then held onto you as you slowly lowered yourself onto the engorged tip.

Breathing strained and muscles tensed along his abdomen as Simon slipped inside, your body taking him all in down to the base of his cock. Your arms locked around the back of his neck to keep you from falling off his lap, delicate whimpers dripping from your lips as his cock nestled securely inside to stretch you good and full to the brim. The stretch of him was heaven, only slight discomfort that immediately gave way to ecstasy as it pulsed and throbbed against your walls like a heartbeat deep in your core, its rhythm making your body tremble to the cadence of a dance that only you two had perfected.

“I love you,” the emotion-laden words left your lips.

“I love ya too, sweetheart,” he returns without missing a beat. 

There were no more words that could be said as you both devolved into beings created solely for the pleasure of the other, the sounds of grunting and moaning filling up the room. The longer you went the harder you ground your hips into his pubic bone to engage your swollen clit like you couldn’t get enough of the way it felt. Your fingertips tingled with the prickling sensation of them running over the cropped bottom of Simon’s blonde locks at the back of his neck as you rode him, every part of you from your head down to your toes in pure bliss. 

Simon let you take the lead, so worked up that he was barely hanging on by a thread the moment he was inside you, the overwhelming sensation of love being shared the catalyst that drew you both closer to the precipice of release. Tender snaps of his hips upward into you helped to engage that region inside your core that felt divine. Mixed with the rubbing of your clit against him and you were quickly being made to come undone. 

Head falling forward, your eyes closed as you moaned into his face. “Yes, mmm… yes.”

“Come with me baby,” he groaned as he leaned forward so that your foreheads were pressed tightly against one another, “I know you’re close. Come on, you and me, together.”

Your hands around his neck squeezed harder to match the feeling as his grip wrenched down on your hips, your mouth hung agape as you desperately focused on your breathing. The coil wound tightly in your abdomen pulled taunt, body vibrating with pleasure, your orgasm within reach. It wouldn’t be long now and Simon was straining to hold on till the end.

“That’s it,” he coaxed gently, keeping his movements at a steady rhythm. “Just breathe; we’re almost there.”

The coil of arousal compressed in your core finally snapped and with a shudder your orgasm rocketed through you fiery hot, making you whimper closed mouth into his face as your hips bucked harshly into his. And before you could even finish through a second of your ecstasy, Simon locked his mouth onto yours as he let go and came fast and rough, mixing his groans with yours in the space created by your mouths.

Remembering what started this all he stretched his arm over to the nightstand and reached for the ring inside the box, taking your left hand to place the delicate band around your finger. He held up your hand before you both to admire the look of it, watching the gem glint and gleam in the light as he turned it back and forth. Never in his dreams could he imagine something so perfect being his to keep.

Simon’s hands stayed locked to your hips as a natural rhythm rocked you both back and forth through your high, just breathing until you could both come back down. He didn't want to let you go and you were more than content to stay nestled in his arms for as long as possible just to feel him. Eventually his heart rate slowed enough that he could breathe normally again and as he did he eased you both down to the mattress, you resting atop his chest. Your finger drew lazy patterns through the hair along his chest as the pair of you clung to one another.

Simon brought your hand to his mouth and placed gentle lips to it. “Can’t believe I get to ‘ave her as mine for the rest of my life,” he said as he pulled you into another toe-curling kiss, as happy as one person could be.

#simon ghost riley #simon riley #call of duty #ghost cod #ghost mw2 #cod mw2 #ghost x reader #simon riley x reader #simon riley smut #simon ghost riley smut #fluff and smut #simin ghost riley #simon smut #ghost simon riley #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x you #simon ghost x reader #simon ghost x you #simon ghost smut #ghost call of duty #ghost #ghost cod smut #cod ghost

[planetdream]

PLUTO !

CHARACTERS ! vampire!lee minho, human!reader [ft. human!kim seungmin, servant!han jisung]

GENRE ! horror/thriller—vampire!au. “romance”. smut. minors dni.

SYNOPSIS ! when your fiancé, seungmin, fails to return home after notifying you of his departure from count minho's estate, you decide to search for answers yourself.

WORDS ! 12.2k more or less

THIS FIC CONTAINS ! writing inspired by the various varieties of dracula. horror [vampirism. gore—body horror: details of blood and bloodsucking. spiders. strange creatures. nightmares and overall very lucid dreams. allusions to character death.] hypnosis. hallucinations. manipulation and gaslighting. kidnapping? and references to religion [christianity/catholicism], prayers and comparisons to a Higher Power™. mentions of food. infidelity and smut [one wet dream. pussy eating—a lil bush appreciation. hair pulling. big dick minho. grinding. fingering. worship. term master used once. degradation—whore shaming. choking. nipple play/breast fondling. lots of spit. squirt n cum.]

💌 extremely self indulgent. all the thanks and love in the world to the homie, @cosmicbyeol for beta-ing for me n overall being an incredible help !!! 🥺 also, as always, accepting feedback and constructive criticism!!

The last three weeks have been weary, to say the least. You had been elated as your fiancé, Seungmin, was scheduled to arrive back in the city after a nearly two-month-long business trip. With the day of his return steadily approaching, you found yourself excitedly performing various small tasks in preparation for the moment you finally see him again. Then the big day arrives and Seungmin is nowhere to be found. No big deal; perhaps his arrival is a bit late, or he may need time to himself to unwind after long travels. If anything, he’ll show up at your door the next day with flowers and a gift, ready to tell you all about his journey and the people he’d made connections with. 

Then the fourth day comes, and by that point, you’re knocking on his front door but to no answer. You stroll past his home on your evening walks and the lights aren’t on. You’ve revisited the post office, checked in with relatives; and still, nothing. Seungmin is seemingly lost to space and time. By the sixth day, you’ve written a letter to Count Minho, the friend and business partner that Seungmin had been staying with; explaining the situation and the fact that you’ll be visiting while in search of Seungmin. 

Count Minho is a mystery to you. Seungmin never spoke with you about his relations with the Count, and you never pried into the specifics of his work business. From what you do know, Seungmin’s work involves him being in contact with several different people from real estate to archaeologists and historians, to priesthoods and other religious leaders. You simply assumed Count Minho had been one of the aforementioned, or possibly an artifact seller or buyer; as Seungmin is interested in the hobby himself, and has countless other buyers and sellers he knows. While the Count is a mystery, you feel that there is a possibility that he can lead you back into the arms of your lover. 

After a few days of planning and packing, you finally decide to get started on your journey. By the Sunday of the third week, you’re lodging with some very nice people in the town nearest to Count Minho’s estate—which is only about a two-hour distance away—you choose to stay in the village to get the word out about Seungmin. 

The townsfolk are a welcoming and lively bunch. You were fed, rested, and told stories of both local legends and the juiciest gossip around town. On the eve of your final night in town before you join the Count, you mentioned him, and the room fell silent. A feeling of unease weaved its way into the small kitchen you’d been standing in. The two women beside you failed to meet your gaze. You had already been told of the creatures said to be lurking through the forests between town and the area of the Count’s estate. A classic story of a wolfman who is out to kidnap unsuspecting young men and women; only brought up because of very recent alleged sightings. 

A third woman finally spoke up. Urging you to forego your plan of visiting what she called such a vile and off-putting man. There’s a legend about the man who lives in the castle at the edge of the forest—whom you presume to be Count Minho—who comes into town during the night of the first full moon of the spring season, with the sole purpose of terrorizing people in their homes; feasting on their organs and drinking their blood. The last occurrence happened nine springs ago: a family of five, two completely drained of blood and tossed to the side, with another two torn piece-by-piece; left mixed in a pool of wasted blood. There had been one remaining survivor, eyes removed from their sockets, who only could say one thing: “He called himself God.”

Though the story terrified you—you refused to let that stop you. If Count Minho is some extraordinary beast, then let you be the one to stop him if it means you get to become one with Seungmin again. 

Alas, the day to meet Count Minho has come, and the women you shared dinner with last night are appalled to hear that you were insistent on making your way to Count Minho’s estate. Knowing that they cannot stop you, they wish you luck and pray for you, gifting you a crucifix for safety on your journey. 

By the time you approach Count Minho’s estate, it is about an hour after sundown. The sky begins to dim rapidly, as the former golden-pink hue of the sky begins to turn into a deep purple and later fading into black. The temperature drops by the hour but thankfully the winter season is coming to an end. The snow is already clearing up, and in a couple days it will have been long gone and forgotten for generous showers of rain. 

Your arrival, predestined and arranged to be brought by carriage, led you here. And as you pull into the gates of the estate, an unsettling feeling hits you. Deep in the pit of your stomach as if something had crawled inside of you and is now scratching to be freed. Despite that, the feeling of discomfort quickly begins to wash over you, seemingly dispersing into fascination—like a group of butterflies or a bouquet of flowers flourished within your body and spirit. You feel a lot lighter, elevated as if a veil was pulled over you. 

You can hardly see the castle in the darkness, but if you strain your eyes hard enough, you may be able to see the silhouette of the grand estate. Though that’s no use, the surrounding forest, and deep black sky work as a void, shielding away any ounce of natural light, encompassing the castle within its secrets. The moon, nearly full, and friendly to those who respect it, is useless as the structure of the castle casts away the inquisitive nature of the celestial body—nothing will be brought to light or justice tonight. 

The carriage, drawn by three black horses, halts in front of the main entrance. Several long, white, cylinder candles light up the main door of the Count’s castle. The entrance is similar to that of a cathedral’s—two heavy-looking doors adorned with indescribable red patterns; swirling into shapes that seemingly recreate human-like faces. It’s vague. At a simple glance, the patterns reflected by the candlelight look like faces, but the longer you look at them you realize otherwise. The patterns seemingly have no rhyme or reason, endless red swirls that are simply just decorations. 

Atop the door is a large arch, and in the dead center is a sculpture of a man—perhaps it’s of the Count. In the brief flicker of the flame, you can see the face of the sculpture. Its face is horrid, angry even; a permanent scowl displayed. But in that short second, you notice its eyes, big and red, fixated directly on you. There’s a chill that runs down your spine in that brief moment of eye contact. And while every nerve in your body warns you, there are matters that the Count needs to assist you with that are bigger than just a feeling. 

In your deep thought, one of the doors opens with a loud screech, almost like the scream of someone. It garners a gasp from you, shaking you out of your head and back into reality. Before you know it, your feet are moving faster than your brain and you step out of the carriage. Collecting your bags and holding them tightly, thanking the coachman for bringing you safely. As you turn back to the door, it’s open wider than before, but still, the Count is nowhere in sight. 

You walk closer, hand reaching up to touch the door and you enter, eyes unable to find a resting place. There are candles everywhere, several of them as if there are no electrical lights within the place, despite the huge chandelier hanging from above. The smell of the place does not come from the candles—it’s something else that draws you in, a familiar scent perhaps from your past, but you’re unable to put your finger on it. You step further into the home and when you do, the door behind you slams shut, making you jump and turn back. 

The slam is followed by an unsettling silence, practically deafening. You call out. 

“Hello?” You look around. Just ahead of you is a long hallway, lit up with candles. You’re not sure how long the hallway is, as at a certain point, the light from the flames is no longer visible, fading into a pitch-black blanket. The walls are decorated with cobwebs and a boring gold and red damask; the colors are fading, or at the very least very dusty and in need of upkeep. The floorboards are wooden and when you shift, they make an awful creaking noise. This castle has been around for a long time—centuries even, likely and believably kept within the Count’s family. Modernity has not caught up to it. 

“Hello?” You begin again. “I’m Y/N. I wrote to you a few weeks ago as I had some inquiries for you about Seungmin.” 

Your voice trails off. There’s a cloud of unease that reigns above you, and still, as you stand in the foyer of this already strange place, there’s a familiar warmth that surrounds you. When you breathe in, your chest expands, hair brushing against your neck as you sigh in both contentment and exhaustion. 

“Good evening,” You heard his voice, but you hadn’t heard him come over. “I have been expecting you.”

You open your mouth to speak, but any aforethought words get caught in your throat at the sight of him. He’s gorgeous. Absolutely stunning. You catch his eyes immediately, locked into his stare, lost in the deep sands of his chocolate brown eyes. There’s a soft yet teasing nature behind them and it draws you in, latching onto you. He looks to be a lot younger than the age you heard him to be. His lips curve into a smile as he sticks his hand out for you to shake. Though, quite frankly, you’re not sure if you’re supposed to bow to him or not. 

“Yes, um,” You shake his hand, giving a small, shy smile. You’re unable to take your eyes off of him. 

“Come on. You must be cold and tired, let us go sit.” He speaks before you get the chance, letting you collect your thoughts. “Feel free to leave your things there. They will be collected.”

You nod, setting your belongings down and following Count Minho deeper into the castle. You’re unsure if it is because you’re a bit tired, or some very serious architectural error, but the interior of the castle is like a labyrinth of sorts. The Count opens a door you initially assumed to be a room—but instead turned into another hall of rooms. He turns left on his heels and into a side room, you follow along. 

The room you enter is small but comfortable enough for three or four people to have their space. Ahead of you are big windows, covered with thick black curtains that scrape against the floor. To your right is a fireplace, a huge flame already burning and keeping the room nice and toasty. On the right are three large bookcases that reach the ceiling, the multicolored spines of the books add little pops of color. In front of you are two velvet chairs facing the fireplace, divided by a porcelain side table and atop of it are two books and a tea set. 

The room is very neat overall. A couple of misplaced books here and there, sat on the floor. Otherwise, it’s eerily neat. As if the Count rarely uses the room but chronically dusts because everything is just for decoration. The Count takes a seat and as he beckons you over, eyes diverted from your face, as he pours you a cup of tea. You move hastily, sitting at the chair across from him. 

“Hibiscus,” He says, a small smile on his face. “It also seems that I’m forgetting my manners. Those in the town call me the Count, however, you are welcome to call me Minho.”

“Thank you for taking the time out of your busy schedule to meet with and host me,” You begin, ready to get to the point. The Count—Minho—nods. “As I mentioned in the letter sent, I’ve arrived here to look for my fiancé, Seungmin. I’ve only received letters from his arrival and departure, and not many in between those times; which is unlike him on his usual work trips. It’s been weeks now, three to be exact. And since you are a friend of his, I was hoping you knew of his whereabouts.” 

“I fear I will be of little to no help to you, my dear.” His choice of words, while peculiar, are selected carefully. “Seungmin is a near and dear friend to my heart and I truly hope that he is safe, wherever he may be. The thing I can say is, he had been acting a bit—” He pauses, seemingly pondering on the right word to say before continuing. “A bit…abnormal.”

“He had been here at your home for nearly two months, what exactly do you mean by abnormal?” You inquire, pressing Minho to say more, not caring of how your tone might sound.

“He began to have these dreams, and some active hallucinations. Completely plagued by them. Night terrors, I’d say. He feared whatever he had seen, and while he initially confided in me about it, he soon concluded that I was untrustworthy. Somehow, Seungmin lost touch with reality.” 

Plagued by nightmares is something that you take note of. A month into Seungmin’s stay at the Count’s castle, you began to have these vivid dreams. Some good, some horrendously terrifying and, well, a large percentage of particularly electrifying dreams. The most recent—waves crashing together on a violent stormy night on the sea. You’re aboard a ship, standing in the center of the forecastle, and all around you are piled up bodies; and there’s blood on your hands and arms, staining your skin. Blood soaking into the fabric of your clothing. It felt immensely real. You felt the unease of the rocking boat, you heard the crashing of the waves and the squawks of the birds circling overhead. Weirdest of all, you could smell the blood; almost craving it. The dream ends with the sounds of a heart beating and the rushing of blood flooding to your brain. And then there’s nothingness. 

The Count takes a sip of his tea, and you choose to follow suit. Though, the tea is bitter, even with the added sugar, and not slightly tart as Hibiscus tends to be. Quite frankly, the taste is gross, but you drink out of respect. You do your best to keep a straight face at the taste, quickly setting down the cup. A small smile appears on Minho’s face, exhaling with a short laugh. 

There’s a knock at the entrance of the door. In the frame of the door stands a slender figured man who seems to be a tad shorter than the Count. He’s rather cute with his medium length hair and round cheeks, though he wears a blank expression on his face. He turns to you, doing a brief bow and opening his mouth to speak. 

Minho interjects first, walking towards the other man. “This is Han. Very simply, Mr. Han is my servant. Forgive me, Han here, was supposed to see to your arrival, but he had other obligations to take care of.”

The two look at each other, but only the Count smiles. Han keeps the same stoic facial expression, looking more exhausted than anything. The Count begins speaking once again. “Y/N, here, is the fiancé of Mr. Kim. You remember Mr. Kim, don’t you, Han? Y/N informs me that Mr. Kim didn’t arrive safely back home, now is that right?”

The Count looks to you, and you stand from your seat, nodding. “I’ve gotten a letter of his departure but he hasn’t been home yet,” You let out a deep sigh. “I just miss him so much. I hope that he’s safe wherever he is.” 

The air in the room is thick with tension. For the three of you, this has to be an outstanding situation right? For you, as young as you are, to have the love of your life—the man you plan to marry and give yourself to—to go missing without much word. And for the Count, who has been a longtime friend of Seungmin, having to deal with the weight of potentially being the last one to see Seungmin. 

“A friend of Count Minho is a friend of mine,” Jisung smiles. “I’ll do my best to help you find Mr. Kim.” 

Han and the Count step off to the side to exchange words briefly. Han turns to leave and the Count turns back to you. “Hungry by chance?”

The dining room is rather spacious, and includes a fireplace, which seems to be a running theme within the Castle. The wooden floor panels are mostly covered by a large, deep red rug. Red is the main color of the decor of the room; the velvet dining chairs and all the flowers,—from the pansies to the roses—even the dinner plates; are red. Despite this, it’s clear that Count Minho has quite a bit of money to have afforded all of this: from paintings to small artifacts that decorate end tables and small statues of gargoyles. Perhaps he is indeed a collector of sorts. 

Minho pulls out your chair, pushing it back in once you’re seated. He then takes his seat at the other end of the table. There’s a spread of food on the table and various bottles of wine, to which the Count motions for you to help yourself to. After making yourself a plate, you pour yourself a glass of wine—a red, twirling the liquid within the glass, foregoing the tradition of smelling the aroma and instead shooting it straight back. The wine is rather sweet and washes down smoothly; more like juice than a wine. 

Count Minho watches you eat with inquisitive eyes, studying you. He drinks from his wine glass as he stares at you. “What exactly do you know about your fiancé’s career?”

You meet his gaze, eyes fixated on you with a squint; it all makes you a bit uncomfortable. It’s like Minho can read every bit of you with just a simple look. 

“Not very much.” You admit. 

“Oh?” The Count is especially interested now. “Had he told you anything about me then?”

“No. Only that you were a long-time friend.” You pour another glass of wine. “Although..”

You trail off, unsure of if you should mention the story you heard from the town. You look at the Count, and he raises an eyebrow to you. 

“I had been staying in the town nearby for a few days before coming here. And well, I’m not too sure how to explain it. The only things I know of you come from word of mouth, and well, they aren’t very good.”

“Go On.”

You recite to him the story you had been told about the man in the castle who would come into the town and terrorize its citizens. At the end of the story, Minho erupts in laughter. He’s holding his stomach and chuckling, wiping faux tears from his eyes. 

“Let us just say, I have more valuable things to do than whatever that is,” Minho rolls his eyes. “I only ask because you intrigue me. That, and I never thought of Seungmin as someone who would lie to their lover, really.”

The word lie is interesting. You’d always perceived Seungmin to be an honest man, really. The two of you forged your relationship on the basis of being fully honest with each other. You never thought you would ever come close to doubting Seungmin nor his truthfulness, his faithfulness even; but Count Minho’s tone of voice—the seriousness coating every bit of breath he takes—along with the fact that you don’t truly know of Seungmin’s work, has you second guessing yourself. Now it’s your turn to press him. 

“Continue.”

“I’m saying, you don’t know what the man does for a living but you choose to throw away all inhibitions and potentially roll yourself into danger for a man you almost transparently know next to nothing about.” The Count pauses to sip more of his wine. “Seungmin was into things of the rather unusual variety, I’ll have you know. If you want, I can show you the things that he and I were discussing.” 

You take Minho up on his offer, and he gives you a small smile in return. 

“While I’d love to get to work on such matters tonight, I’m afraid I must go to sleep. I have some important matters to tend to in the morning. Shall I show you where you’ll be staying?”

—

You follow Minho, out of the dining room and down the endless hallway. The wallpaper is practically peeling, and the higher ceiling riddled with cobwebs notably hasn’t been cleaned up in quite a longtime. The obvious decades old paintings that were placed against the walls had been covered in dust and grime, dimming the vibrancy intended by their various artists. He then stops at a white door, turning the knob to open it. The room is dark and cavernous, but with the help of a lit candle sharing its warmth with the candles previously naked and cold, you see that it’s actually quite spacious and bright. White and light brown decor gives the room a light and more alive look in comparison to the thick dreariness of the parts of the castle you’ve seen so far. It’s almost like venturing into another world, or peeking back into an oddly shaped past. 

“Breakfast will be served early in the morning. Sleep well.” And with a smile, Minho exits, closing the door behind him. 

In the silence, thoughts begin to fester, nipping away at your well-being. You’ve gotten next to nothing so far from this meeting with the Count, but tomorrow is a new day and you hope he can give you insight into this world of Seungmin that seems to be unraveling. It’s confusing—for a brief moment you find yourself questioning your decisions. Have all of your life choices led you to this exact moment? The Count is vague in his ways of doing things—it’s like he’s not even trying to hide the potential of his true nature. He appears like any other person, but there’s something more to him than what meets the eye. You’ve been caught in a web of mystery, slowly sinking deeper and deeper.

You find that your bags are sitting next to the bed and you reach in to find your night clothes. Once you lift your shirt over your head, you cannot help but feel like eyes are watching you. Covering yourself, you scan the room in an attempt to soothe your psyche, and as expected, you remain completely alone. Shaking the feeling, chalking it up to being nervous about being in yet another new place, you continue to change your clothing. Sitting at the edge of the bed, you reach into your bag to pull out a letter you received from Seungmin. 

“My dearest heart, 

There is not a moment that goes by where I am not thinking of you. On my lonely and rather daunting work evenings, I look to the sky and am reminded that we share the same view together. You are the one thing keeping me balanced and sane. I know that you are waiting for me to return, and I want nothing more than to return to the safety of your warmth. Until then, look to the sky and be reminded of me. 

K.S”

Once finished reading, you press the letter against your chest. The second to last letter you received. Initially, it was rather hard to sleep at night after you received it. You had longed for your lover—missed his existence to no end, and you still do. There is nothing in the world that you would rather have than the gift of your lover returning to safety. You long for Seungmin, aching for the chance to finally touch him again. To hug, to kiss, to feel every inch of him once again. Today marks the third week since you had last heard from Seungmin, and from tonight onward, you demand to get the answers you deserve. 

You gently place the letter onto the nightstand. You kneel onto the floor, elbows pressed against the bed with your hands together in prayer. You had never been religious, nor, in a situation in which you felt you needed to pray before—but it has become a habit of the last few weeks. Closing your eyes, you inhale deeply. 

“Dear God,” You begin. “Please align me with my lover. Please return him to me safely.”

Pulling back the covers, you snuggle into the bed, drifting off into an idyllic night's sleep. 

You’re stuck. Seemingly, your body is paralyzed; hands resting at your sides, legs pressed together. You try to move, starting with a pinky and then your foot, but the longer time goes on, the more your ability to move lessens. Unable to even move your head left or right. You’re completely stuck. Not to mention, stuck in some complete void of a room, unable to see anything. 

There’s a vibration around you. It’s a subtle vibration, though you can feel your body swaying back and forth as if suspended in the air somehow. Just then, there’s a spotlight. It shines in your face before spirling in circles, lighting up various parts of the area you are in; but still, there’s nothing but darkness, even in the brightness of the light. Just until you view a quick flash of something briefly catching the light. The light runs from the figure before spinning back to shine itself on the mystery. 

Despite its distance away, you can see the thickness of the short hairs that decorate the body of the arachnid. The many eyes of the spider sparkle in the light, its eight moving legs speeding their way over to you. You watch as it clicks its mouth, salivating as it makes its way to its fresh catch. 

Here you are: a mere fly in the realm of the spider. 

At a blink of an eye, the spider is circling you, inching closer and closer until you can no longer see it from your horizontal position. Suddenly! It lurches, jumping atop of you. The spider sinks its fangs into you, piercing your skin harshly, burning. The attack against your skin causes blood to splash everywhere, spraying onto your face and body. You shriek in horror—attempting to send signals for your body to wake up from its terror. Your entire body burns; throat dry and brittle from yelling so much. The area around where the spider’s fangs are latched inside of you, both itches and stings. Feels like you’re getting pumped for your blood yet also injected with its venom. 

If possible, your body gets stiffer. Cold. Vision fading.. And fading until there’s nothingness. All you can feel is the body of the eight-legged creature draped over you; taking and taking freely. 

Despite the nightmare, you feel rather refreshed waking up. A minimal amount of light shines through the curtains. Stepping out of bed to the faint smell of food, you yawn and stretch briefly before heading to the closed door. Stepping into the hall from the confines of the room you spent the night in, you take a few steps across the hall to look out into the window. It looks bright and comfortable outside, a stark difference between the drab, dreariness of the castle’s interior. 

When you arrive at the dining room, there’s a full spread of food. Toast, tea, and a plethora of fruits and berries. In the daylight, the interior of the dining room looks a lot dustier, as if it's barely used. And to be fair, it seems as though only the Count and his dedicated servant occupy the estate. Which you wonder about—does Count Minho have no family? And what about Mr. Han? Any lovers? Who exactly is the Count and what was Seungmin’s business with him?

“Will Count Minho be eating with us?” You ask as you take a seat. 

“Sir is taking care of some business this morning. This breakfast is all yours.”

“You won’t be eating?” 

“Ah,” Jisung sighs with a smile. “I had a big breakfast earlier.”

With that, Jisung lets you begin eating. He simply just stands there, and while his eyes aren't on you, you can feel him observing your presence, similar to Minho. 

“So, Mr. Han,” Playing with your food as you speak. “How long have you worked for Count Minho?”

“Only a few years. Feels like a lifetime, though,” He turns to you, a small smile on his face. 

“Are you also a friend of Seungmin?”

“I’d only spoken to Mr. Kim a few times before his most recent visit. I typically stay out of all of Count Minho’s business affairs. I prefer to deal with the home side of things,” Jisung nods. “Speaking of, you’re free to explore the castle if you’d like. The Count won’t return until later.”

“Really? Are you sure he’ll be okay with it?” The opportunity to explore this grand castle piques your interest. You raise your eyebrow towards Han and he nods in response. 

“It’s no problem, really. To warn you, some rooms aren’t used as much anymore so they might be a bit untidy. Almost time for some spring cleaning.” Han gives you a short, dorky laugh. He’s adorable, if that’s the word. He seems to be on the more timid side, probably doesn’t speak to many people other than Count Minho on any given day. “Jisung, by the way, you can call me that.” 

“It’s nice to officially meet you.” You smile. “Can I ask you one more thing?”

Jisung nods. 

“What room did Seungmin stay in?”

“The room that you are staying in.”

The castle looks rather different during the daylight. The hallways feel hollow, completely blank despite the moderate amount of clutter in the form of various books and paintings littering the sidelines. While the idea of a large estate is stunning, it is clearly a bit too much for only the Count and Mr. Han. You wonder if Count Minho has been previously married—or even married at all; to be fair he looks a little young, but it’s possible he’s had a lover in the past. Perhaps that’s why he’s so understanding of your pursuit to find Seungmin. 

You return to your room. Beginning at the bedside table, you tour around the room, looking for clues that might help you. Searching the dressers in the room, you make your way over towards the small desk in the far corner. Opening the drawers of the desk, there remains nothing but untouched letter paper. Scanning the area for any unchecked marks, your eyes fall towards the bed. Dropping to your knees, you crawl the short distance to the edge of the bed. Pulling the bed skirt up in anticipation only to be left with nothing but dust bunnies. This initial search leaves you empty handed but you go off to make your way through the rest of the Castle. 

The castle is indeed like a labyrinth. Some doors open to an empty, decrepit room of various doors. Admittedly, you’re a bit too afraid to open one of the random doors. You’re not familiar with the layout of the estate, and you refuse to get too deep into this trap of a home. One door opens to a windowless room, and the singular wooden chair in the middle causes you to back out of said room slowly. 

Continuing on your pursuit through the endless halls of Count Minho’s estate, you approach a doorless room. Without needing to walk in, you can tell by the bookcases that it’s a library of sorts. Making your way through the entryway of the library, you find that the temperature of the room is noticeably colder than the hall. The library has dark wooden shelves filled with books from the ceiling to the floor, and you know that if Seungmin was here, he’d be able to tell when and where the shelves were constructed. He would always pick up little pieces of knowledge like that—claiming that he didn’t know why yet, but knowing such would help further him in life; and importantly, in his studies. 

You run your fingers over the spines of the books as you stroll your ways through the library. There are books spanning across language and subject—the majority of it, completely unidentifiable to you. 

You come across a leather-bound book displayed on one of the bookshelves, cover forward. It’s dark, dusty, and might even be a little dirty. The cover of the book itself is twisted, the skin of the book twists and dives into different layers, somehow folding the cover of the book inside of itself. It’s complex and strange, unlike anything you’ve ever seen before. Just to hold it, the weight of the book is heavy, somehow warming up in temperature. To feel the book, to hold it in your hands, it intrigues you just as much as it disgusts you. 

The language of text presented on the pages is unknown to you. The drawings that accompany the writings, however, are disturbing. Dark and detailed illustrations of creatures that you would never have thought of. Upon the first page is a visualization of a winged creature with the distant silhouette of a man. Only there’s a huge eye where the head would be, and its legs are tangled and twisted together. Turning a page, you’re presented with another drawing. An illustration in charcoal of a dark figure. The drawing looks as though it’s been drawn in haste; a rushed, frantic effort. Alongside is another illustration of a mouth—though without ink, the artist did their best to emphasize the splotches of blood that stain the mouth. What stands out the most are the set of razor sharp canines that protrude from the teeth—two sets, specifically. Beholds, the only romanization on the page: Vampyre.

A chill runs down your spine, but you’re unable to remove yourself from the grasp that the book has. Turning page after page, overstimulating yourself with various images of creatures that are likely to lurk in the shadows. The longer you examine, the more your head pounds. Nausea interrupting all plans you may have had. Head spinning and spinning, visions bending and thrawn within itself. Figments of the images you’ve viewed imprinting themselves on your vision in dark splotches like a memory. The new and the strange tangling itself within your memories, hiding within them for safe keeping. 

“Y/N?” There’s a light voice that breaks you out of your spell. 

When you come to, Count Minho is standing over you, his cold hand pressed against your forehead. You look around the room, sitting in an opposite corner of the library than you originally remembered. 

“Are you alright?” He asks. 

“I’m not too sure,” You sit up straight in your seat. You look towards the open window and the sky outside is completely dark. Somehow, it appears that hours have passed. What a freaky and strange thing. 

When you look up at Minho from your position on the chair, you’re immediately pulled into the pools of his eyes, locked in. “You must be hungry, yeah? It’s dinner time.” 

Just like last night, Minho leads you to the dining room. Just like last night, he slides your chair out and pushes it in for you. The spread of food tonight is different from last night, and you notice that some of the decor around the room looks different as well. Your vision hasn’t quite recovered from its hectically blurred state, and in your moment of disillusion, none of this interests you.

“Is there something wrong?” Minho asks as he sits. What isn’t wrong? You feel a rather painful shift in your own mood. 

“I think I might be a bit tired.” You exhale. Despite aching for the continuous pursuit of knowledge, sickness continues to trail behind you. Uncertainty creeping its way up to the forefront of your thoughts. You’re unable to escape the feeling that there might be something seriously wrong. Anxiety rests in the pit of your stomach, slowly eating away at you. Refusing to look at Minho, you pick at the food on your plate. Honestly, you feel rather sick. Your vision, while still painfully blurry, continues to spin ever so slightly. Placing your hand flat against your forehead to find that you’re burning up on flu type levels. You look across the table toward Minho and your vision doubles, triples, then suddenly you're seeing eight versions of him. 

It’s a bit of a hassle to move the heaviness of your hand, fingers slowly creeping up to grasp onto the wine glass. You close your eyes to soothe your vision, taking the glass into your hand fully. 

Minho coos. “I was really looking forward to dinner with you; but if you’re tired we can postpone our conversation.”

Taking a sip and allowing it to savor on your tongue. The slight, unsuspecting note of pomegranate makes you smile—something comforting in the mixture of mess you’re currently feeling. 

Grace be to God. When you open your eyes, your vision returns to normal. It’s something of a miracle. 

“No. It’s fine. That strange book in the library,” You look at Minho and struggle to find the words. All that remains in your head is visuals of every creature you saw depictions of. 

“What book?” He doesn’t follow. 

“It has drawings of these strange creatures in it. Some kind of horror book, I think it made me a bit sick.”

“I’ll tell Han to search for it so that I can have a look,” 

Dinner continues with only a few moments of silence. The topics range from a variety—the original focus of conversation on Seungmin before venturing off elsewhere. Count Minho gives you insight on what he does; referring to himself as someone who studies human nature, communication and our state of existence. He loves the study of humans and thus dedicates his life to it, choosing to be of help in any way he could be. Of which, is how he met Seungmin, and from there, they became partners due to their similar interests. Somewhere, is a layer of information that Count Minho refuses to give up so soon. 

“May I walk you to your room?” Minho asks, rather politely, but your room is not too far from your current position. Still, you say yes to him. 

Unlike dinner, the very short walk is in total silence, but Minho’s presence is comforting. You reach the door to your room in no time and Minho steps in front of you before you can say anything. The silence continues as Minho and you stare at each other. Though, the silence turns to static when Minho leans in to kiss you. His lips on yours and you don’t even bother to pull away. Instead, you kiss back, allowing him to deepen the kiss. He pulls away in haste, muttering a goodbye before walking off into the darkness of the hall.  

You step into your room and therefore, instantly step into a pool of guilt and confusion. Seungmin is so far from the forefront of your mind—for you to indulge in a kiss with another man and to not think once about your lover. What kind of monster have you become?

Once changed into your night clothes, you peel under the covers and you pray. You don’t feel like yourself, and the feeling creeped upon you. The thoughts in your brain are mixed together, both elaborate and unintelligible, a mixture of things you know and things you never knew. Images of those same creatures stain the darkness when you close your eyes, peeling back layers of the person you once knew to be you. Before sleep finally engulfs you, you pray for the guidance of whoever is listening. 

Minho guides you towards the bed. Red and black satin sheets fitted across the bed and the pillows. Minho pushes you against the bed and huffs out a short laugh, smirking at you. You bite your lip out of nervousness, peering up at him. 

“You’re so beautiful, my rose.” Minho’s hand is soft against the skin of your knee. Lightly, he drags his nails against your thigh, inching closer and closer to the material of your nightgown. 

Before he does anything, he leans down to kiss you; eyes closing as your lips work in sync, souls melting together. The kiss deepens for just a moment until Minho pulls back, brown eyes staring into your own. He plants one more quick kiss against your lips before his hands begin working beneath your gown. He slides your dress up to your waist, admiring the softness of your belly and the smoothness of your skin. One kiss above your navel and another kiss below, is all he lets himself have before he gets too deep into it. 

You make it easy for him, foregoing underwear to allow your lover easy access. Minho can only scoff, but he shuts himself up with another kiss to your mound. “Just for me, my dear?”

“Only you, love.” You smile at him, motioning for him to come closer. Minho, of course, follows suit. He would give you a billion and one kisses if he could. 

When the kiss breaks, Minho drags you towards the edge of the bed. Spreading your legs apart, he drops to his knees beginning his worship of your cunt. Tongue flailing out, slurping up every drop of your wetness, soft lips drenched in your flavor—and there’s no other way Minho would rather have you than at his complete surrender. His hands grip your ass, trying to push you into his face. Lips covered in slick and spit, puckering around your clit, sucking it in; Minho’s head bobbing up and down slightly, moaning into your cunt. 

“So fucking delicious,” Minho mumbles, continuing with his feast. Your hands fly to his hair, pulling with every lick and suck he gives you. Moaning freely, not caring if the entire world can hear you. In fact, maybe the entire world should hear you. 

Minho eats you sloppily, savoring not only your taste, but the feeling of your cunt against his skin. The feeling of the softness of your pubic hair against his skin is like heaven to him. Sometimes, he’ll spend time rubbing this face against the hair before he dives into your cunt. Not to mention the feeling of your juices soaking into his skin, which he’d use as a natural moisturizer if he could. Minho’s obsessed with every inch of you; from your cunt to your skin, to the very blood that courses through your veins.

His fingers push into you as his tongue swirls against your cunt. His lips suck your clit into his mouth, tongue lightly beating against the tip of the bud. Minho pushes his saliva to the front of his mouth, soaking your clit in a mixture of his spit and your juices. 

Your fingers pull against Minho’s hair, tugging harshly against his scalp but he wouldn’t have it any other way. He might even ask you to pull harder. You push Minho against your cunt, slowly grinding your hips against his face. Moans bouncing off the walls as you drip onto Minho’s tongue. Minho takes this opportunity to suck on your clit just a tad harder, triggering your pending orgasm. Eyes rolling to the back of your head allowing you to see colors as warmth rocks through your body. Limbs daring to curl together, Minho doesn’t allow you to move from the hold of his hands nor the warmth of his mouth. 

Minho slowly kisses up your body. You can feel the remnants of his kisses even after he’s long gone from a spot because of the wetness on his lips. He kisses at your neck, then your cheek, and finally your lips. Deepening the kiss as he taps his cock against your cunt, you invite him in. 

Three long orgasms later, you and Minho are snuggled in bed, snoring softly beside each other. Suddenly, you’re woken up by a loud bang. Looking to your side, you find Minho unbothered, still asleep, chest rising gently with each breath. There’s another bang, louder and possibly closer than last. You slide out of bed, looking back at Minho’s sleeping figure before making your way towards the door, hand reaching for the glass door knob. 

There’s another loud crash as you twist the handle of the door. You step into the hall of darkness, wooden floor cold against the bottom of your feet. Closing the door behind you, you venture out into the darkness. The halls of the castle are quiet, unmoving; day in and day out they remain the same, even in the dead of night. It’s rather sorrowsome, actually. So full, yet so empty—the castle feels like it's dying. 

Another loud bang. Followed by another and another. One after the other, four beats apart. The knocking appears to get louder with each step you take towards the staircase. You raise your foot to take that first step, there’s another bang once you firmly plant your foot against the stair. Quickly but carefully, you make your way up the staircase. In the near distance, towards the end of the hall presents a glimpse of golden light. 

Letting your legs guide you, you make way towards the door at the end of the hall, almost floating. The knocking doesn’t stop, getting louder and louder the closer you get to the door; but when you try to halt, you’re guided to your destination by a sudden force; body stiffening, neck making a sharp turn as you peek into the room. The crackling warmth and light emitted from the fireplace sets a gorgeous, homey scene. 

“Help.. Me..” 

Your eyes shoot towards the ground until you find the fingertips of a man laying in a puddle of blood. But before your brain can process who the person is, you’re snatched away. Falling fast into a pit of darkness. 

You awake in the dead of the night to a knocking at your door. It’s soft and subtle, but has been consistent enough to pull you from your sleep. One knock after the other, four beats between each knock. 

Tossing the covers away, you step out of bed. Muscles tough and sore, there’s an unease as you rub the sleep from your eye, feeling as though you’re encumbered in your own head. You take another heavy step, the knocking still not ceasing. One step after another until you reach the handle of the door, and only then does the knocking stop, floorboards creaking as the sound of footsteps shuffles away. 

A minute goes by until you decide to open the door. The hallway is dark, the only light is coming from the window across the hall. You look towards the moon—there she is, full in all of her glory, bringing the spring equinox along with her. You walk towards the window, looking down towards the ground and noting that the snow has completely melted. There’s a dark, shadowy figure in your peripheral that breaks your appreciation for nature. Turning in the direction, there’s nothing in the distance. You follow, passing by the kitchen and making your way to the stairs. The shadow dissolves into the darkness at the top of the stairs, beckoning you to chase after it. 

Once you reach the top of the stairs, there’s a sliver of light peering from the far end of the hallway. The trek over isn’t that long, and once you’re within a few feet you slowly approach the door, tiptoeing your way over. Creeping up to the doorframe, you hold your breath as you peek into the crack of the room. There’s not much to see, just a steady fire and its continuous cracking. Until you hear a moan and your eyes dart to the location of the sound. 

There, you spot Jisung sprawled out on the chaise, half of his limbs hanging off as Minho straddles over him. Attached to his neck, Minho wastes most of his meal, letting blood slip from his mouth and drip down Jisung’s neck. You gasp, fully taken aback by the action you are witnessing. The townspeople were right to warn you—the Count is a monster. Or maybe something worse. 

After the accidental announcement of your arrival, Jisung locks eyes with you. Your gaze, however, is stolen by Minho once he turns around, peering up from his feeding position. He’s wide-eyed with blackness covering the entirety of his eyes, lips and chin stained red with blood. Once Minho realizes it’s you who interrupted his feed, he gives you a wide, bloody smile—showing off the two sets of fangs at the top row of his teeth, the outer fangs just slightly bigger than the inner fangs. For a moment, time seems to slow down; you watch as a small droplet of blood drips from one of Minho’s fangs, and before it fully releases, Minho swipes it with his tongue, licking over his fangs for extra blood. 

Before you can turn back and run, Minho is already behind you in the blink of an eye. 

“Unfortunately, my dear, running is useless,” The Count grabs you by the collar of your pajamas and forcefully drags you into the room. You fight him off but your hits do nothing to him. Letting go of you, Minho pushes you onto the ground. “Stay.”

Jisung stands up from his position laying across the chaise, dipping a rag into a bowl of water sitting on the side table. You watch Jisung with inquisitive eyes as he wrings out the rag, carefully cleaning up the marks and the blood stained to his neck. Minho, meanwhile, is facing the fireplace with his arms crossed and one finger pressed to his lips. Jisung finishes cleaning himself up, and begins moving around to avoid eye contact with you. In horror, you watch as Jisung takes a tarantula out of its cage and places it into his mouth, chewing as he turns to walk out of the room—leaving you alone and helpless in the clutches of Count Minho. 

Minho tsks once, then once more. A hand on his hip as he shakes his head. He extends his arm, quickly swiping away all of the candles and books the rest atop the fireplace as a loud, angry cry escapes from his chest.  

“I thought that maybe,” Minho begins. “Just maybe. I’d have an extra night or two before having to do this to you. You’re a curious one, aren’t you?” 

Minho turns to you. An insincere smile on his face, fangs hidden away but some of Jisung’s blood still covers his face. You spring to your feet, not wanting to stay on the ground when it’s clear that Minho has the advantage. Backing away from him slowly, eyes searching for anything to use as a weapon, though Minho can tell your every move. 

“Did you..did you do that to Seungmin?” You’re near tears. They don’t fall, only brimming along your tear ducts. 

Minho’s jaw clenches at the mention of Seungmin. “You really do care about him, huh? Seungmin this and Seungmin that. I fear your admiration for your lover has made you blind. You have played right into the palm of my hand, little lamb.”

“You want to know where Seungmin is? He’s dead.” Minho laughs. A deep belly laugh. “Though, it wasn’t me who did it.”

“Years ago, I showed Sir Kim something that I thought he could handle, only to find out otherwise. I promised him knowledge, the freedom to view the extensive, valuable, book collection within my library, at any time he chooses; and most importantly, the opportunity to discover something otherworldly—new to him, although very old to me. Something that could provide him everything he’s ever wanted. At least, that’s what this power did for me. Seungmin wanted to become a new man, and I was the only one who could offer that opportunity.”

“Then, two months ago, Seungmin showed up at the door. Exclaiming that while he wasn’t ready in the past, this time he’s ready to surrender his soul. Turns out, it was a ploy to kill me. I should’ve known better, truthfully. Seungmin is smart, almost as cunning as I, and well, he very nearly gave me a run for my money. But let’s just say, how should I put this, I have someone who is willing to do anything I say. Including kill.”

You shake your head in disgust, backing up from Minho; but he pursues.“What are you?”

“I once referred to myself as a God. However, over the years, I realized that I am God. I have seen men with beast-like abilities and looks, men with the ability to rise from the dead, but the simple power of those imbeciles doesn’t even come close to mine. It’s something entirely different.”

“I mean, you read that book didn’t you? A dull-looking half-dead creature with fangs? You’re quite different from Seungmin, but you’re still special. You might not have understood the text, but perhaps, you used context clues?” Minho continues, “You might not have known it, but your fiancé was a part of a very dark world, angel. You see, he was actually the one that wrote the book. And he left you blind to it all, not knowing of his inevitable future. And now, yours.”

Minho winks and moves closer to you with each word, though you take steps back, not wanting to be too close to him. Eventually your back hits the wall and Minho almost pressed against you. His sharp nails come up to your neck, tracing over until he finds exactly what he was looking for, inhaling deeply. 

“Are you going to kill me, too?”

“There,” He taps the tip of his finger against your neck, just above your collarbone. The sharpness of the nail presses into your skin, breaking the initial layer, not deep enough to cause bleeding. “If I put my mouth right here, I could drain all of you in less than six seconds. Kill you? Heavens no, I actually believe that you’re pretty valuable to me.”

Minho looks into your eyes, passing along discomfort in the form of a stare. Then he pouts at you, mockingly. 

“No need to be scared. I mean, it’s not like you can ever leave me, at this point, so it’s best you put your fear aside.” Minho smirks once more. “From the night you’ve arrived, you’ve been drinking my blood. I’m already inside of you. I know every little thought in that pretty little mind of yours, I’m in all of your dreams. And guess what? You will never, ever be able to get rid of me.”

“Now tell me, has Seungmin ever touched you like this?” Minho asks, the tips of his fingers tracing against your neck, palm cupping around your throat, he stands firm behind you. There’s dense heat against Minho’s fingertips and a slight burning sensation from the sharpness of his nails; it’s such an intense feeling, unlike any you’ve experienced before. As electrifying as the feeling of his touch is, it’s also revolting, horrendous. There was a spark whenever Seungmin touched you, but Minho’s touch is different; it burns in all of the right ways. 

“I could give you things Seungmin would have never even dreamt about,” Minho’s voice is soft, silky. The heat of his breath against your skin tickles, but ignites a particular burning of desire. Minho is something similar to the devil and still, despite it all, there’s a familiar heat that creeps up within you. “I could open doors for you that were previously closed. Anything you want, could be yours. All you have to do is accept all of me.”

The hand that had previously been resting against the softness of your belly, is held out for you to accept. You stare down at his hand, biting your lip at the temptation. Minho plants his lips against your neck to give you one small kiss after another. 

For the sake of Seungmin, you want to turn away. If this had been just a few days ago, you would have likely fought in honor of Seungmin. The entire reason you’re even here, in the Count’s castle, is because of Seungmin. And still, in spite of all of that, as much as it makes you feel physically ill, stomach turning at the thought, every single fiber of your being craves Minho. You can feel the heat of your bodies meshed together every time you imagine what it’s like to have him between your legs. When he looks into your eyes, it’s familiar—like home. 

Every alarm is firing off and still, you put your hand in Minho’s—accepting his offer. Minho’s hand interlocks with yours, and you can feel him smile in between his tiny butterfly kisses. His hand holds yours tightly, as if he doesn’t want to let you go. Plump lips dragging against your skin, until he stops momentarily—taking a deep breath. Minho lets out a sharp, rich groan; knees throbbing as he bucks into you. And it’s at that moment you can feel Minho’s cock pressed heavily against your ass. Minho holds you against him, hips moving against your ass slightly, as he breathes in your scent. 

The moment is broken once you feel four razor sharp punctures in your neck. Minho’s low, guttural moans vibrate against your skin as his teeth penetrate layers of skin. The feeling is strange—it stings and burns, but also has a light cooling sensation. 

With the more blood Minho takes, the more his eyes fade into black until the whites are no longer exposed. Minho is absolutely captivated by the taste of your blood. It’s absolutely bewitching. He can taste every memory, every inch of trauma and pain, all of your love and most importantly, Minho can taste a bit of your soul—completely unguarded and vulnerable; ready for him to take and do as he pleases with. 

Minho continues draining you of your blood. It’s around this time that your vision becomes blurry, the room grows disorienting, tipping from side to side with each blink. You’re clutching Minho’s hand as tight as you possibly can be, jaw slacking and freely giving away soft moans. Even though he’s drinking from you, Minho never stops the movement of his hips. Hand clutching your own, pressing your arm against your stomach firmly. His other hand is tight on your hip, holding you in place. Somehow, your body feels both light and heavy, like you’re nailed to your spot but also elevated, floating in space. Your eyelids are getting heavier, a milky white film covering your eyes as Minho continues to take and take from you.

By the time you feel like your legs are going to give out, Minho gives up on drinking from you. “I can’t believe you’ve been hidden from me all this time, my little lamb.”

Minho whispers into your ear, voice equal parts soft and sweet. The way he can easily slip between calm and composed and dominant and overbearing is scary. 

“Let’s make this official, what do you say, love?” It’s less of a statement and more of a demand. Minho bites into his wrist, pushing it towards your mouth. But you refuse, attempting to turn away, though Minho does not allow it. Forcing your mouth open with his other hand, fingers dipping into your mouth, watching with a smirk on his face as droplets of his blood drip into your mouth one by one. 

There’s not really any significant taste to Minho’s blood. Indeed, his blood is thicker than water—but also very smooth going down. Minho spins you around, lips fast against yours. This kiss is full of iron and spit, completely messy, tongues fighting against each other. You, surprisingly to Minho, are the one who deepens the kiss further, pressing your body against his. Hands running all over his body, tugging against his clothes. 

You can feel yourself changing rapidly. Inside of you is a particular burning passion that you haven’t felt in years. It’s amplified when Minho’s fingers trickle up and down your sides. When the kiss parts, you and Minho lock eyes. Your chest rises, breathing in deeply because the room has gotten a hell of a lot hotter—or is the oxygen leaving your lungs? 

Minho takes the lead this time, pushing you atop of the sofa. He stands over you almost menacingly, clouds of lust like darkness clouding his eyes. He takes the chest of his shirt and tears it in half with two hands, as easily as it takes one to blink. He lets the shirt fall from his body, pulling his arms from the sleeves. Unbuttoning his pants just slightly before he kneels on the couch beside you. His lips on yours once again, though briefly. Minho takes the fabric of your clothing and tears it in two, just as he did his own shirt. You’re completely exposed to him, completely naked beneath his stare. You put your arms up to shield your indecency, but Minho doesn’t allow it. Taking your wrists in his hands and pinning you to the comfort of the sofa. 

Holding your wrists with one hand, Minho holds your jaw in his other hand. “Wish you could see how heavenly you look right now.” 

At this moment, Minho decides that you’re the closest he’ll ever get to heaven. So does he worship this embodiment of a higher place? Or does he further defile it? Should he ravish you? Perhaps he should take his claim over a body and soul that is now his forever. The worship may come a little later. He looks down at you, a frenzied little fledgling overtaken by uncontainable lust. A near mirroring reflection of sin itself. You pupils are completely blown and the whites of your eyes grow into a red color. He stands tall above you, like a God. Eyes of lust looking back at you, so deeply into the crevices of what’s left in your soul. 

You claw up at Minho, wanting to feel him. Wanting to be comforted by the glory that is Minho. The Ultimate Being—your master. 

“Imagine if Seungmin were to see you like this, intoxicated with such lust—and none of it towards him,” Minho kissed over the spot where he bit you, planting more kisses against your neck. “Would he be pathetic? A coward who cums in his pants at the sight of another man touching you?”

Minho’s lips move from your collarbone to your chest, displaying a range of kisses against your skin. “Or would he demean you for disgracing him in such a way? Would he call you a whore at the sight of you, turning his face in disgust?” 

Minho continues talking in between kisses against your skin. Lips kissing down the valley of your breast as his left hand creeps up to fondle your left breast. You moan at his touch, the coolness of his skin against the heat of yours. Minho looks up at you. “My precious little lamb isn’t a whore, are you?”

You shake your head vigorously at Minho’s statement. He can only laugh at you. He doesn’t believe it and deep inside, you don’t believe yourself either. 

“Your whole purpose of being here was to find your fiancé, and instead, you’re beneath me and dripping onto the chaise. That doesn’t sound like something someone who’s not a whore would do, does it, little lamb?” 

You shake your head in denial. Reaching up to him, dragging the tips of your fingers down his chest. With each exhale, with each minute that goes by, it becomes harder and harder to fight your cravings. Thrusting your hips up, gyrating in the air, trying to entice Minho into touching you. Unable to sort the words in your head to form a coherent sentence. 

“But you’re fine with being a whore aren’t you?” Minho nods, pouting just slightly. When you’re not nodding along with him, he grabs you by your hair, forcing you to nod along with him. “What a good little lamb. From here on out, you’ll only be a whore for me, ok?”

Minho releases your hair from his clutches. Licking his palm, he drags it down from your navel to your cunt, pausing a moment to bury his fingers within the hair on your mound, slightly tugging at it. He teases you for the moment; fingertips feathering lighting against the skin of your inner thighs. He brings his fingers back to your cunt, dragging down your slit, teasing into your wetness. Minho circles over your clit with two fingers, watching your face as you bite your lip. Two of his fingers slowly slip inside of you soon after, thick, already knuckle deep inside of you. 

Minho’s free hand finds a new position, tightening around your neck. The roughness of his hands is missed when he slides his hand down your chest, cupping your breast. He leans down, sucking your nipple into his mouth, coating it with saliva, teeth slightly grazing against it. He continues scissoring his fingers into you, thumb pressing down flat against your clit. Minho moves his thumb in tender circles, still applying pressure. Swollen lips leave a mess of spit on your breast, dripping onto his hand. 

He lifts his head from his original position, eyes covering every inch of you. Once his eyes land on your cunt, Minho kneels—a quick kiss planted at your clit before he attaches his mouth to it, sucking you in. Warm, wet mouth slurping and licking, voice vibrating against your cunt. You moan into your hand, but Minho snatches it away; a quick, stern look up at you. The more he hears your moans, the sluttier and messier that Minho gets; moving away slightly to spit against your cunt, watching as it drips down to his fingers. All before he’s back at it, slurping and moaning against your cunt. 

“Fucking cum,” Minho talks into your cunt. He speaks his demand into you. The climax hits you hard, cum spraying all over Minho’s face, even drenching a bit of his hair. It takes Minho and yourself by surprise, and you’re almost ready to cover your face in your hands, but Minho flashes the most gorgeous smile to you. Face soaked, licking his lips to taste more of you. 

If he wasn’t firm about his desire to devour and conquer you, he was now. Minho fully undresses himself, cock hard and heavy, leaking and aching to be buried inside of you. It’s like your minds come together. Just with a touch you know the things that Minho wants to do to you. Your desires are equal and because of it, you’re a step ahead of him. Your eyes land on him, completely sucking into the visual of his cock. Large but not too veiny, a shade or two darker than the rest of his skin and it’s absolutely glorious. He’s thick, the tip of his cock heavy and shining with precum. It’s hard to keep your appetite for lust contained, and for a moment, you wonder why you’re even holding back—you’ve seen just a glimpse of freedom, is it too much to indulge and savor the taste of what you’re becoming? 

Your movements are faster than what the logical part of your brain can comprehend. One moment you’re spread open and the next, you’re straddling Minho, hand caressing his face. Minho looks at you with such an insatiable gaze. He hadn’t read it in the cards that you could possibly take control of the situation, and it enthralls him—what a wonder you are. You grind against his cock, sliding your slick cunt across his shaft. Pressing your hands to his chest for balance, adjusting the speed of your grinding until you’ve finally found the spot that sets off the fireworks within your brain. Unfortunately, it’s not enough for Minho, grabbing your hips and pressing you onto his cock, controlling your movements. Other than the added pressure, Minho guides your hips just a tad bit faster. 

Sliding up, you reach behind to hold Minho’s cock into your hand. It has a bit of weight to it and is slick with your juices. You tap the head of his cock against your cunt a time or two, then slowly sink down, engulfing him into your cunt. The thickness of his cock gives you a fervent sensation, cunt fluttering to take more of him, inch by inch. 

You throw your head back as you continue riding Minho. There's a brief, but slight sting of pain when you open your mouth to moan. When you look towards Minho, mouth agape, he looks back at you with such adoration and awe—the first time you felt his genuineness for something other than rage.  Minho helps you continue to ride him, his hands on your hips to guide you up and down his cock. You bring your tongue up to lick your lips when you finally notice the feeling of the fangs protruding from your gums. 

The feeling of exhilaration encompasses your whole being. You can’t help but let out a laugh at the current situation. You feel elated. You feel powerful. Pure and utter bliss slowly peeking out beneath the many layers of lust. 

“Bite me, my dear, go ahead.” Minho reassures you, a hand soothingly rubbing against your thigh. 

You indulge in the opportunity. Sinking completely down on Minho’s cock, crying out at the sensation of being filled by him. You press your nose against his neck, breathing in Minho’s scent before you sink your fangs into his skin. You can feel the shift in your eyes when you drink from him. His blood tastes immaculate like this. What divine nectar he carries within. It’s insanely sweet—not exactly in a tart or sugary way; he tastes similar to fresh fruit. 

You continue to drink from him, tongue licking haphazardly, unwilling to let any of Minho’s blood go to waste. 

From his blood to his cock, Minho is all around you. You feel so full of him, and you are in every sense of the word. His arms wrap around you, caging you in as you take your time feeding from him. He moves a hand between the two of your bodies, thumb pressed against your clit to rub in circles. You gentle rock against him, slowly increasing the speed of your hips once you realize you’re fairly latched onto him. Unwilling to free him from your hold, you would die like this if needed. 

Your climax hits you and transforms you into such a state of pure ecstasy. Every nerve in your body is electrified, and the blood of Minho amplifies that. Minho has you under a spell: blood coursing through your veins, cock pinned deep, spilling his cum inside of you. He’s so cold to touch, but you’re both on fire. It’s way too much yet you’re still captivated by him. Sent into overdrive, your body gets heavier—it's hard to control and you continue to take and take from Minho. It’s no problem to him, though; hand on your back to soothe as your body becomes stiff atop of him.

You awake in Minho’s arms, not completely sure of where you exactly are. The second you open your eyes, you’re not nearly ready for how extraordinarily bright the lights in the room are. You groan in response, but Minho is alert to soothe you. 

“Be still, my little flower.” Minho is whispering, purposefully; he knows first-hand how troubling it can be to be reawakened like this. But still, his voice rings around your head. 

How strange. You can hear every little sound a lot clearer, a lot louder. The initially faint crackling of the fireplace now louder than before despite the distance. The heat of the fire reaches you as well, blazing, although it does not stick. The ticking of the clock is a doomful reminder of the passage of time. Then you look at Minho, and you can hear how hollow he is. There’s an absence within him, a huge, dark, cavernous hole. He is nothing more than a host for whatever this disease is that he has given you. A man without a soul. 

And still. He holds the entire world in his hands. 

“There’s so much I have to teach you,” Minho expresses this with great excitement. He presses a chalice of blood to your lips and just a whiff of the smell puts you in a daze; salivating and feigning to taste. “Now here, drink up.”

© PLANETDREAM 2024

#🌑 — vivid dreams #🌑 — vividdream.skz #lee minho x reader #lee minho smut #minho smut #stray kids smut #lee know smut #skz smut

[fbfh]

tristin dugray relationship and intimacy hcs pt 2

wc: 1.1k

pairing: tristin x (implied fem) reader

genre: straight up smut with some mild feelings

warnings: brief mention of exhibitionism, debriefing with madison and louise, aftercare, cuddles, car sex, sex in a variety of places, cockwarming, nudes, brief mention of oral (m recieving)

song rec: mary - alex g (bc this is literally tristin's song. it's so fucking tristin coded.)

a/n: so good news I think my adhd medication is finally working lol

tags @yesv01 @magcon7280

As with all nsfw works all characters are aged up to 18+

WITHOUT FURTHER ADIEU MORE TRISTIN SMUT BC I’M FOAMING AT THE FUCKING MOUTH

What’s fun about Tristin

Among many other things

Is his fixation with your hips

Seriously it was one of the first things this horny motherfucker noticed about you

Whenever you wear anything mildly form fitting he can’t take his goddamn eyes off your hips

Once you’re together it’s basically impossible for him to resist touching them

Sometimes it’s a playful squeeze

Or an affectionate rub

Other times it’s full on groping while he shoves his tongue into your mouth and makes you grind against his thigh

He could live like that for days and not get tired

Speaking of

Tristin has fucking stamina for DAYS

“Men can’t have multiple orgasms” tell that to him!!!!!!!!

He just… has a fixation with all of you honestly

Like there’s no part of you that he’s not going to eye the fuck up 

You know the looks he’s always giving Rory???? 

That’s just the tip of the iceberg babe

Or should I say tip of the penis lol

Anyway 

Tristin is vocal as FUCK

Like mans can’t shut up

Even when we’ve reached the previously mentioned dumbfucking point, he’s still going to be whining and grunting and panting nonstop

His moans have you gushing like niagara falls tbh 

There is a zero percent chance he’s not going to give you the most affectionate aftercare every time too

So much praise and kisses and cuddles

Like he’ll genuinely get upset if you try to just bounce afterwards

Or worse

If he wakes up the next morning and you’re not there

Maybe he could handle casual hookups with other girls

But not with you

He will absolutely pull you back into bed and demand kisses and cuddles

I’m not gonna lie

He does have a little bit of an exhibitionist streak

Just a tiny itty bitty one

Mostly just from the urge to prove that you’re his when other guys keep flirting with you

If the circumstances were right and you were down, he would be happy to put on a show for them, show them how good he treats you

If you’re still friends with madison and louise/go to the same college as them they will BEG you for details and live vicariously through you

The line where they saw Tristin and Summer making out in front of Rory’s locker and one of them (I forget which one) was like “if you’re dating Tristin you have the right to make out anywhere and everywhere”

…

Yeah

They will literally grill details out of you

Whatever they can get

And the way they look at him after

The little sighs and head tilts and staring off into space thinking about what you told them, letting their imaginations go wild

It would make you jealous

If you didn’t know how much he likes you

But yeah there’s no one that can take you away from Tristin 

He loves you

And he loves keeping things fresh and spicy and exciting

He absolutley fucks you in his car a lot

Like a lot lot 

There’s at least a few pairs of your panties that you’ve lost somewhere in the fancy leather seats

He’ll also happily fuck you in your car

And every room and surface of your apartment

And your apartment hallway

And in an elevator once 

And public bathrooms

And your bathroom

And pretty much anywhere he thinks yall can get away with

Seriously this boy is such a slut but he’s only a slut for you

You light him on fucking fire and he can’t cope

He needs you biblically,, like in a way that’s concerning to feminism.

You can tell how he feels just from the way he looks at you 

And it’s obvious as shit to everyone else too

Like literally everyone

He eye fucks you a lot lot lot

GOD this boy can seduce you so fast

He moans so loud for you too

Tristin will really give you a good show

He wants to impress you

Wants you to need him

(cough cough praise kink)

He wants to breathe the same air as you

He wants to wrap you up so tight in his arms that it feels like you’re merging into one person

Tristin is the “cuddling isn’t enough I need to climb inside your skin” kinda clingy

Solution is cockwarming

Which you both love a lot

Once he realizes cockwarming is an option????? 

It slowly increases in frequency

There’s a good chance you won’t be able to sleep without it at some point

Seriously he will hold you tight and rub your back and touch your soft skin and tell you all the lovey dovey things he feels about you

Most of it is lovey dovey

But don’t let that fool you 

He is the CEO of both his family company AND dirty thoughts about you

Seriously he’s set off so easily by you

9 times out of 10 he’s probably fantasizing about you

Remembering your touch

How you feel around him

God he can’t wait to get his hands on you again

Let me tell you

Tristin is a motherfucking MENACE when it comes to sexting

He will have you blushing over the phone in ways you didn’t know you could blush

He’s so shameless about it too

If you send him nudes??????

He will literally die

And he’ll happily, happily return the favor

Once he realizes how you react when he sends you nudes?????

He never wants to stop

He literally loves getting you all feral and worked up over him

Don’t let Madison and Louise find out Tristin sends you nudes or else they will steal your phone and make a copy of your fingerprint with sticky tape and face powder just to access them /hj

Speaking of going feral

Tristin’s happy trail?????????

Are we gonna talk about it??????

Are we gonna talk about how you want to fucking bite him and deep throat him until you memorize every vein whenever you see his lil happy trail????

Because you will

You’ll definitely want to

Okay putting myself down now lol

I need his cock immediately

Constantly covered in hickeys and unable to walk and he loves it so much

He loves when you need him and he loves fucking you so good that you’re out of commission the next day

It’s what you deserve

You think he’s a menace now???

God help you when he gets baby fever

#tristin dugray #tristin dugray smut #tristin dugray x reader #tristin dugray headcanons #tristan dugray smut #tristan dugray x reader #tristan dugray #gilmore girls smut #gilmore girls x reader #gilmore girls #he is so biteable #i want to bite him

[staryuee]

Hii friend <3

I dont know really know if requests are still open but i wanted to ask if you could do any genshin characters with a rude s/o?

If not you're always aloud to delete the request :)

HOW YOU MAD AT ME, ‘CUZ I’M CUNT, BITCH?

꒰warnings꒱ cursing…obviously LOL

⠀꒲ ` synopsis . . . you wouldn’t call yourself rude just…”free-spirited” and liberal in your word choices~! ^_−☆

⠀꒲ ` characters . . . eula, xiao, thoma, ei, furina, navia, wriothesley

⠀꒲ ` notes . . . if i had a victorian era shilling for the amount of times my friend has called me rude after i’ve made a comment about something i would be the next ebenezer scrooge (⊙_⊙)

EULA — 优菈

now while eula would normally abhor at the foul language and insults that so easily spew from your precious lips, she actually can’t help but be oddly bemused.

i mean her expectations for linguistics are awfully high, one mustn’t speak with little eloquence but your brashness was oddly…charming, and refreshing in a way. you weren’t afraid to offend people, and simply enjoyed the motto of “i won’t apologise for what i said, i’ll apologise for how it made you feel.”

eula is of course someone who’s treated like the poster-woman for the concept of rudeness given her past and current feigned ego, so honestly you sort of make her feel better about herself — not in a negative way, in the way that she just simply doesn’t feel that lonely anymore.

if anyone has so much as a word to speak against you due to something you’ve said, they can speak to her first. the entirety of teyvat is allowed to shudder if she so much as so breathes, but when it comes to you? vengeance will be severed with a side of wine.

XIAO — 魈

stop. please. xiao is already overwhelmed enough by the varieties of his duties, all his patrolling — and now he has to make sure his lover isn’t in an argument with someone or being threatened to literal death.

he frankly doesn’t really care about the way you speak, sure it’s surprising at first since the majority of people in liyue hold themselves in a way that seems a bit more…calm, but then again sometimes that within itself can be seen as a rude attempt at pacification of genuine feelings.

you’ve never been mean or rude to him, directly at least, so he literally doesn’t care how brutal or venomous your words are, so long as you don’t get yourself in too much trouble. people haven’t seen the yaksha so an edge whenever a person opens their mouth since, well, ever.

he’s never brought up your attitude or personality; he loves you wholly, even if some parts of you are a bit more prickly than rosy.

THOMA — 托马

“haha, they were just joking!” you ticked off another five on your little notepad with a careful swoosh of your pen.

thoma has had to repeat that very phrase so much to the point you’ve been keeping a safe tally on a notepad of whenever he says it. to be honest, you don’t even believe five can be multiplied this many times…

your rudeness and foul language comes as an innate package, and thoma has no problem in neatly tying that package up with a little bow to placate whoever you managed to horribly offend that day. you fear that one day, if thoma isn’t there, you’ll find yourself being interrogated by kujo sara, maybe in a more lucky scenario heizou, herself.

“thoma can you do this f—“

“no.”

“i— wasn’t asking you??”

“you didn’t need to, now fuck off (๑･̑◡･̑๑). don’t be incompetent and you wouldn’t have to ask someone else to constantly do shit for you.”

RAIDEN EI — 影

if not directed to herself directly, she finds you absolutely amusing. she literally cannot be a spokesperson against rudeness after her uhum many self-made and self-fulfilled tragedies, plus she herself can be rather verbally off putting therefore, she has little problems with how you address others.

she does, however, keep a very keen eye on you to make sure you don’t stir up trouble with the wrong crowd.

but, hey! the great thing about dating a highly revered archon is the fact literally no-one will speak out against you.

“[name] told me to kill myself when i said hi in the morning…” and guess what? all of a sudden they have a long voyage to the fiery volcanoes of natlan planned out. criticism is only allowed if it’s aimed at her, not you — you’re basically an extension of her, if anyone so much so demeans you because of your attitude, it’s almost like they’re disrespecting the electro archon herself.

that’s a crime the citizens of inazuma have long learned the lesson of.

FURINA — 芙宁娜

she loves you purely for the theatrics and dramatics you always managed to find yourself in. it always seems like drama follows you wherever you simply step — and hey, she’s an actress, it’s no wonder she’s so easily charmed and swayed with the way your voice rings out blunt responses like it were second nature.

and to be fair, she’s a massive instigator of conflict. on the sidelines of course. so when you perhaps “accidentally” rub someone the wrong way, she can’t help but use sarcasm to throw fuel into the fire and watch the hellish flames burn as she kicks back with a cup of tea and a slice of cake (you know, like a true mirror to marie antoinette)

i think your duo would be even funnier and more undoubtedly chaotic if you have british humour and or slang equipped because let’s be so real if this was modern furina would force neuvillette to act like her roadman guard-dog while she sold 50p sweets during break time to the year 8s. throw in a little “yute” or “op” and she has heart eyes all over you (i promise this is all for the sake of comedy…)

NAVIA — 娜维娅

the best part of being in a relationship is being able to chat shit about anyone and everything, because well, you’re each-other’s everything already, why rely on the kindness of strangers for validation?

you and navia do the thing where you’ll subconsciously glance at each-other from the corners of your eyes when someone (or people) say some dumb silly shit. the problem being, neither of you can keep quiet and immediately will begin giggling and will make it inevitably worse by whispering to one another “stop!” and “don’t laugh—“ while holding your mouths to stifle yourselves.

this leads to people being rather nervous to speak to navia when you’re around. usually, navia is very friendly and softly spoken; often she’ll be a rather happy-go-lucky and caring girl who smiles no matter what — of course this doesn’t mean she’ll allow people to walk all over her, but hey she believes in second chances — but when you’re around…people will loiter around creepily before gathering the courage to ask for help or whatever they need.

navia is at heart however, a very loving and respectful person so she will remind you of when you’ve stepped out of line. sometimes rudeness is just an innate quality that people have and it’s sometimes not intended out of malice; even petty things like lateness or speaking out of turn counts as “rudeness”, and navia is here to either make excuses up for you or to defend you from criticism ☆〜（ゝ。∂）

WRIOTHESLEY — 莱欧斯利

oh he absolutely eats this shit up. every argument, insult, fight etcetera you’ve ever had is kept in a personal file somewhere in his cabinet just for memories sake. wriothesley’s life is already quite dramatic and hectic as it can be, the fortress of meropide could honestly sometimes be described as a form of circus within itself especially if you’re involved, but he revels in your antics nonetheless.

you’re literally so fucking hilarious, each time he hears those heavy doors heave open beneath him he just KNOWS shit has gone down and you’re about to dramatise it for him live.

you best believe he’s an instigator the same way furina is; whispering to you and then giggling when you use his encouragement as some sort of reference while you practically spit venom at the person who’s unfortunately become your centre of focus.

he won’t allow you to stir up too much trouble in the fortress of meropide but being his partner you get the perk of not getting into nearly as much trouble as you would if you were one of the criminals down in the fortress (unless you are then…well you’re special so it doesn’t matter!)

©STARYUEE do not copy, steal or repost ♡ ᴜsᴇᴅ ᴛᴏ ʙᴇ ɪʜᴇᴀʀᴛɢᴀɴʏᴜ

#i got xianyun and her story quest made my mommy issues oh so much worse… #genshin x reader #genshin x gnreader #genshin x you #eula x reader #xiao x reader #thoma x reader #ei x reader #raiden x reader #furina x reader #navia x reader #wriothesley x reader

[tangyangie]

— 𝐬𝐰𝐞𝐩𝐭 𝐚𝐰𝐚𝐲 ⊹

characters. albedo, budo masuta, ganyu, kusuo saiki, neito monoma, raibaru fumetsu, teruko tawaki, + wanderer/scaramouche

desc. how some of my favorite characters would react to you wiping away their kiss for a prank!!!

notes. i love this idea so much and i want to try it out (if i actually had a life)

𝐀𝐋𝐁𝐄𝐃𝐎 ⊹

we already know that albedo is a little bit of a tease. although he may not show it in his face.

he'd probably catch on as soon as you try anything. which is why you need to do this when he's tired. after he's done a lengthy experiment is the perfect time to try this out.

he comes back home to you, waiting for see your face. that's all he really cares about right now. you peek from your room, seeing his face down the hallway. you smile and speed towards him, throwing yourself onto him while giving him a big hug.

"hi, 'bedo. how was your day?" you ask, seemingly innocent.

"it was alright," he sighed, quickly pressing a small kiss on your temple as he walked to put his things down. he looks up in the mirror to see you wiping his kiss away.

he definitely was not expecting that, especially after you almost tackled him from running so quickly down the hallway. there's a few possibilities he'd think might be the reason for this.

— you're mad at him because he did something.

— you're mad because someone else did something and you're taking it out on his kisses.

— no one directly did anything, so you're mad at everyone.

— this is a prank.

and, from the way you turned to look at him and immediately snapped your head back when you made eye contact (don't think that he didn't see your smile), he figured it was the last one.

but he was definitely feeling a little scared at first. he thought he did something wrong and couldn't tell. he just looked at your with his signature blank expression with a slight smirk.

"what are you doing?" he asked, raising his eyebrows.

"hmm?" you slowly turn around, doing your best to hide your smile. although you're doing it quite well, albedo notices everything.

you barely notice as he grabs your hands quickly, before placing a kiss in the exact same spot as earlier. he holds your hands firmly, not allowing you to move them.

you decide to take it a step further. you nuzzle into his neck as if you're giving him a hug, and wipe the kiss yet again, using albedo instead of your hand. he doesn't know how much more obvious you could make it that this is a prank.

as soon as you look back up again, you are attacked by a kiss. with absolutely no warning. he gives you no time to react, therefore leaving you with no time and no way to remove the kiss.

"it was a nice try," albedo says. "maybe, next time—you don't make it so easy for me to understand."

you glance at the teasing look he has on his face. it's amazing what little variety his facial expressions have, yet you can still tell what they are.

"that's not fair, 'bedo." you sigh.

he chuckles lightly before kissing you once again.

𝐁𝐔𝐃𝐎 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐔𝐓𝐀 ⊹

he's the sweetest boy. there's no need to do this to him.

oh, but how you love to torture him. he puts up with it, so there's no harm. he understands it's all playful.

he loves giving you kisses. just passing by you in the halls, meeting up in his clubroom for lunch, seeing each other after school... none of them are complete without at least a quick smoochie.

so, of course, you try and prank him.

you're walking around the school after your last period, and you're calmly walking when you get the idea. he's already got an arm around you, so it's inevitable that he'll lean in to try and land a kiss on your cheek.

you know him so well. he does the exact action mere seconds later. you don't even spare him a glance as you wipe it away, but you give him a quick giggle.

he stops dead in his tracks. "did—did you just..?"

"did i just what?" you say, turning around, with a confused expression plastered onto your face.

he's just thinking what he possibly did wrong.

'is it because i didn't give them any of my lunch??'

'or, maybe i said something and didn't notice!!'

he's lost in his own thoughts. his hand is on his chin, and he's looking down to the ground, going through the entire day in his head.

you kind of just stand there... waiting to see if he'll realize. but, he's completely out. he can't hear you whisper his name to get him out of the trance.

"budo..!"

you wave your hands, but not even motion is getting him out.

you give in, officially throwing in the towel in terms of carrying out the prank.

you throw your arms around him and press a long, sweet kiss to his lips.

"sorry, budo. i was only playing." you smile, placing another one directly on his forehead.

he blinks a couple times before sighing in relief, taking your face in his hands before kissing you again.

"don't do that, y/n. i thought i was going to drop dead right there." he sighs before laughing, his hand on his forehead.

"i'll drop dead before i actually wipe your kisses." you grin, reassuring him with a big hug.

𝐆𝐀𝐍𝐘𝐔 ⊹

she will definitely react the most out of them all.

she's already nervous about everything, no need to make her self-conscious about her kisses!!

yet, somehow, you thought that pranking her would be a good idea.

you're both sitting on one of the cliffs in liyue. you're smelling the clouds through your nose, as you lay your head on ganyu's shoulder.

she's already partially asleep, but she wakes herself up enough to give you a kiss to your temple. you, with a sly smirk, then brush the kiss away.

she doesn't believe her eyes, at first. after that, she goes into full panic mode.

her eyes are wide open as she stares off into space. she is going insane in her head.

'nooo. no. did i do something?? do they hate me?? am i a failure???'

her hands move to rest on her cheeks on the sides of her face. hee face is slightly turning pink at how much she's embarrassed.

'is it my breath?? should i have eaten sweet flowers instead of qingxins this morning?? i knew they were too bitter..'

you can literally see the steam coming out of her ears. putting her through any more of this would literally be a form of torture.

you gently turn to grab her hands. you hold them in yours and bring them down, encouraging ganyu to look you in the eyes. you whisper an apology as you press a kiss to her nose.

she honestly looks relieved just to see that you don't hate her.

"i was pranking you, ganyu. 'm sorry.." you sigh, bringing her in closer for another kiss.

she nods and strokes your hair, smiling at you. "that's alright, y/n."

you slightly back up and motion to your lap. you gently pull her down so that her head is laying in your lap, soothing her mind as you place another kiss on the top of her head.

𝐊𝐔𝐒𝐔𝐎 𝐒𝐀𝐈𝐊𝐈 ⊹

he's wearing his germanium ring. it's time to strike.

you couldn't help but notice saiki seeming a little more at peace than normal. if you could consider his normal at peace.

of course, it's all due to the thought-cancelling ring. so, you took the opportunity to finally be able to do something without him catching on.

you crept up next to him, snuggling your head into his neck. he'd never been one for physical affection, but this was the only way to coerce him into giving you a kiss without explicitly saying it. and he was smart enough to figure out what you if you would've told him.

he opened an eye to see you, and then lightly pecked you on the cheek before returning to his activity... whatever it was.

you casually wiped the kiss off, slightly turning your head to make sure saiki saw. he definitely did.

his eyes intensify as he stares at you with an extremely surprised expression.

"hello. i go out of my way to kiss you, something you're always begging me to do, and you wipe it off?"

you raise your eyebrows at his immediate reaction.

"what are you talking about?" you ask, trying your best to appear clueless.

his face looks a little gloomier now. he sighs and turns away.

you smile at the reaction, but feel a little bad. so, you crawl over to him and give him a small kiss on the lips.

"sorry, i thought it would be funny." you whisper, smiling softly. he grumbled something under his breath and pulled you in for another kiss.

"it wasn't. if you do it again, i'm sending you to point nemo."

𝐍𝐄𝐈𝐓𝐎 𝐌𝐎𝐍𝐎𝐌𝐀 ⊹

you were finally settling down after a long day of training. stretching your back and reaching your arms until you felt relief, you twirled into your bed, directly into neito's arms.

"hm? did someone miss me?" he smiles, beaming at you. "of course you'd love me. i'm much better than everyone in that stupid class 1-a. i'm sure you were dying to see me."

"and just when i thought i could get some peace..." you groan dramatically, turning towards his chest.

"it's your fault for being in class 1-a, you should ask for a transfer to class 1-b!! you'd fit in a lot better than with those losers!!" he laughs, tapping you on the nose.

"neito..." you say, with a warning tone to your voice.

"sorry, sorry," he smiles, pressing a soft and sweet kiss to your lips. poor boy, he had no idea what you were planning. he'd fallen right into your trap.

with a seemingly straight face, you wipe the kiss with the back of your hand, dragging it out as long as possible without making it obvious that you were playing with him.

"excuse me??" he gasps, raising his eyebrows and lowering his jaw. the look on his face was comical. "what was that?"

"what was what?" you say, still able to keep your smile contained. "i didn't do anything."

"did... did you really care that much about what i said about your classmates??" he had a whiny look on his face.

you let out a small laugh, but it sounded like more of a 'pfft' than a 'HAHAH'. you bit your lip in hopes of preventing the rest of it from escaping, but you'd already failed.

"ha ha ha, you're so funny. keep my kisses." he says with a squint, applying several more kisses to your face, moving at a quick enough pace that you were unable to block him.

"ahh!!! neito!!!" you squeal, fanning your hands at his face in an attempt of getting him to relieve your face.

he'd already gotten you immobile as he plastered dozens more of kisses onto your face. your face felt breezy by the time he was done, letting you know that no part of your face had been left unkissed.

𝐑𝐀𝐈𝐁𝐀𝐑𝐔 𝐅𝐔𝐌𝐄𝐓𝐒𝐔 ⊹

she notices everything. if she can sense someone 5 feet away with a knife, she will definitely notice your little trick.

but that fact doesn't stop you from trying.

you're sitting at the school fountain with her, eating lunch. she feeds you a dumpling as you thank her with a mumble, covering your mouth.

she chuckles and kisses your cheek, and that's the moment of action. you dramatically drag your hand across the side of your face, causing her to turn her head towards you.

her eyes are open wide, but she doesn't look sad. simply surprised. "y/n? what'd you do that for? did you not like the dumpling?" she asks, looking towards her food.

you shake your head and shrug. "the dumpling was really good... what are you talking about?" she notices the trace of a smile on your lips, and then her face returns to normal.

she sighs with a laughing smile on her face. "y/n, was that really just a prank??"

"what? was what a prank? i don't know what you're referring to." you look away, kicking your legs as a distraction.

"hello? the kiss!" she giggles, setting her lunch beside her. "why'd you wipe it away?"

"i don't know what you're talking about, rai." you sigh, straightening your posture. you're just totally telling the truth.

she doesn't think you're this clueless. she quickly leans in and sticks another kiss on your cheek. you reach to get rid of it once more, but she catches your hand.

you're doing your best to keep down your laugh. you reach with the other hand—almost nonchalantly. before you know it, she grabs that one too.

she smiles and simply looks at you, waiting to see what you're going to do next.

you can't hold it in anymore. you start laughing so hard, you fall forward and knock raibaru off the bench. which, in turn, only causes you both to laugh more.

so, passerby can look to the fountain to see two students laughing in shambles.

𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐔𝐊𝐎 𝐓𝐀𝐖𝐀𝐊𝐈 ⊹

after being with you, she realized that kisses are actually one of her favorite activities. you can lure her out of her room with a promise of a kiss.

and she will hold you until you melt. you can literally just be sitting there, and she will pepper your face all over. so... of course, you decided to mess with her a bit.

you were doing your own separate activities on the couch. you were reading, and she was simply resting. suddenly, you heard the couch creak and felt teruko's body turn.

you expected what was coming next. you felt her lips rushing to your cheek, leaving a small spot. you knew she hadn't closed her eyes yet, so you seized the moment.

you wiped the kiss away with your wrist, returning to your book as if nothing happened.

and she. is just. flabbergasted??

you.. huh?

she slowly orbits her head towards your face, giving you the worst glare of the 21st century. you can literally see the shadow falling onto her face.

"y/n." she says, still holding onto you, pressing slightly harder as a caution. "i'm going to need you to explain."

she's already got trust issues. what is she supposed to do in this situation?? she can't really take your kisses hostage.

you sigh, discouraged that you were already discovered. "aww, you caught me." you put a fake pout on your face, finally looking into teruko's eyes. they're very scary.

"that's not what i asked." she says, lowering her voice further, turning you to look up at her. she's hovering over you, very obviously expecting an explanation.

"well... it was only a prank." you smile. you can't help but let a giggle escape at how passionate she was about a simple peck.

"uh huh. show me." she snaps, furrowing her eyebrows as she lowers herself closer to your face.

you smirk and press her face closer, finally giving her the kiss she wanted. "you don't see me wiping away your kisses," she grumbled, pulling away and leaning back into the couch.

she had a satisfied look on her face, though, and she hugged you tighter. but, if you ever do that again, don't expect her to be so patient with you. she will pounce.

𝐖𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐄𝐑/𝐒𝐂𝐀𝐑𝐀𝐌𝐎𝐔𝐂𝐇𝐄 ⊹

"you're exhausting..." you heard from behind you, the bells on scaramouche's hat jingling softly.

"i'm just trying to be healthy, explore nature. it'd be good for you to touch some grass sometime, ya know?" you tease, a giggle escaping your mouth.

"you—never mind..." he grumbled, getting closer to you and putting his arms around you.

"someone's awfully clingy today." you slip, giving him a playful glance.

"would you really prefer it if i wasn't?" he asks sweetly, pressing a kiss to your temple. he's almost being too cute to mess with right now.

but, you had priorities. with a huff, you brush your hands where he kissed you, wiping it away. you didn't look directly at him so that it'd be natural, but in your peripheral vision, you saw the most devastated look ever.

his jaw was on the ground. "you did not just do that." he growls.

"do what?" you smile. then get tackled by an angry scaramouche. "—hey!!" you yelp.

he traps you in his arms, holding you close and tight. he kisses you with no warning, straight on the lips, going for the gold. you could've sworn that he was more passionate than some normal kisses.

"you," he says in between each long kiss. "are not allowed," he grumbles. "to get rid of my kisses." he says firmly, looking you in the eyes.

you giggle at how easily he gave in, getting so angry at the prank.

"it was a joke, dummy." you tease.

"this definitely isn't." he smirks, leaning in close as he amorously kisses you one last time.

notes. guys keep in mind i'm only like one episode into season 6 of my hero so monoma may potentially be a little ooc (as well as others)... but i'm catching up as fast as i can i'm so sorry 🤧🤧

anyways... guys what do i do if i get the same req in different fonts (not literal fonts) 🫡

#albedo #albedo x reader #genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #budo x reader #yandere simulator #ganyu #ganyu x reader #saiki k #budo masuta #kusuo saiki #saiki k x reader #scaramouche x reader #monoma x reader #scaramouche #mha x reader #tdlosk #monoma neito #monoma #bnha x reader #budo #yandere simulator x reader #raibaru fumetsu #budo masuta x reader #raibaru x reader #teruko #teruko tawaki #danganronpa #teruko x reader #reader fic

[cereovo]

A set of very conceptual notes I drafted a while back for someone asking for advice on learning to draw humans. I'm entirely self-taught so this is less of a tutorial and more of a very rambling set of general principles I follow and ideas that helped while I was learning. I figured I'd post it in case anyone else could get use out of it!

I also recommend checking out:

Drawing East Asian Faces by Chuwenjie

How to Think When you Draw (lots of good tutorials in this series)

Pose reference sites such as Adorkastock

Transcript and some elaboration under the cut:

Img 1 - Drawing a face

The two most important elements (at least for me) when drawing a face are the outline of the cheek/jaw and the nose*. I often start with a circle to indicate the round part of the skull, then add a straight like and a 'V' to one side [to create the side of the face and the jaw]. The nose creates an easy template for the rest of the face's features to follow (eyebrows at the top of the nose bridge, eyes towards the center of the bridge, ear lines up to eye) and the placement/direction and overlap with other features is a very simple way to indicate dimension. [A sketch of a face that has been adjusted by moving its parts to create 3 different angles. The following text is underneath:] -Different 3/4th views can be created just by adjusting the position of and amount of overlap between the facial features. - The top of the ear usually lines up with the corner of the eye. Think of how glasses are designed [specifically, how the arms run from the eyeline to the ear] [I go on a tangent in these next few paragraphs] *One thing I see many artists do - not just beginners - is learn how to draw A Person. As in, one singular person with one set of bodily proportions and one set of facial features. It's an issue that runs a bit deeper than 'same face syndrome' because sometimes these artists can draw more than one face, they're just not very representative of [the diversity present across] real people. Part of the reason I'm talking more about how to think about approaches to drawing - rather than showing specific how-to's - is because there is no one correct or right way to draw a person. The sooner you allow yourself to explore variety - fat people, old people, people of color, people with [conventionally] 'unattractive' features - the easier it'll be! Artists often draw their own features honestly and without [harmful] caricature, so it's always a good idea to look at art made by the kinds of people you're trying to draw if you're ever unsure about how to handle something. In general, it's far more important to learn how to interpret a variety of forms than to learn how to replicate the Platonic Ideal of the Human Body.

Img 2 - Stuff that helped me

Jumping into drawing humans (faces or otherwise) straight from photo reference can be overwhelming. The trick is to simplify forms into shapes - but even this concept is sort of abstract and it may be hard to know where to begin. Good news - Thousands of other artists have already figured it out. [When starting out] I needed to learn from photo reference AND artists I admired in order to improve. [When looking at stylization you are inspired by] ask yourself: WHY does this simplification work? How can I translate it into a different pose? Instead of copying what you see in a photo reference exactly, try to focus on the general forms first. My two biggest style inspirations for humans while learning to draw them were Steven Universe and Sabrina Cotugno's art. SU gets a lot of hate [in this instance I was specifically referring to a time on tumblr when the art was knocked for 'losing quality'] but its style does a great job of simplifying anatomy in a way that still portrays a diversity of bodies + features. [Extremely simplified drawings of Lapis, Steven, and Amethyst] SU characters are still identifiable- and still read as 'human' - even when reduced to just a few lines!

Img 3 - Things I keep in mind while drawing side profiles

- Eyebrows + eyes close to the 'edge' of the face - Forehead needs enough room for a brain - Eye is > shaped from the sides - Mouth kinda halfway [between the nose and the chin] but closer to the nose - Skin/fat exists under the jaw [and connects to the neck] - neck is about one half the width of the whole head - the back of the skull always sticks out a bit further than you might expect - Sometimes less is more - contours exist on every face, but drawing them in may make your character seem much older than they're supposed to be. However, it's a good idea to use them when you *want* your character to look old! These are very general notes- every face is different and has different proportions [and playing around with them creates unique and interesting character designs]

#2023 #may 2023 #i realized this is pretty nonsensical while transcribing it LOL #feel free to send asks if anything is unclear #but again im not any sort of professional

[infamous-if]

There's been some discussion recently about MC that caught my attention because I agree. MC feels like a loser when you think about all of the other characters. When I play an MC who did nothing wrong to Seven it just feels like Seven is angry for no reason. Seven is allowed to act like a child while MC has to take it? Doesn't seem fair.

Everyone has something going for them and what about MC? No one likes them and everyone hates their guts. Aren't they supposed to be the main character? Why does everyone hate them? Why aren't they considered more talented? It just feels like MC is a doormat while Seven and the other ROs are these talented superstars.

I don't want this to come off any way but I feel like the story would be stronger if you made MC a bit meaner or at least made people acknowledge MC as a better singer.

I don't want to sound rude but I'm very much exhausted by this topic. I've probably explained this 5+ times but I'll try to break it down one last time just so people can understand what I'm trying to do.

First, to get it out of the way, we are only on Chapter 2. I just want to reiterate that. The story just started.

It just feels like MC is a doormat while Seven and the other ROs are these talented superstars.

Secondly, MC is a character I try to give as much customization to, both personality and appearance wise. There's a variety of ways you can approach everything, or I at least try to in a way that doesn't sacrifice what I want to write for the plot, but I think people are under the impression MC is 100% a blank slate character when it's not true.

MC is still dependent on the plot and I always strived for MC to have their own narrative arc. The same way the ROs have their own character arcs, MC will have their own, because they are a character in their own right and going through some that fundamentally changes their life. That means the MC from Chapter 1 will not be the MC at Chapter 20. They will be different. That's what a character arc is. Character development is expected. How can you expect a slew of ROs to grow and change and MC remaining stagnant? Doesn't make sense narratively and it seems unfair to MC.

The MC is not a completely blank slate, and that's where people are getting it confused. In the beginning, MC is going through such a change with BOTB, without their family, and on the heels of a band breakup that's still impacting them today. MC is a little down, maybe even depressed if that's how you read it, and they're getting pushed to be leader by their manager. They are not really okay right now. They have to be professional and put on a brave face for the sake of their band, who, if you paid attention to what Rowan said in Chapter 2, are all depending on this. This is what they worked for since high school. MC is not going to flip a damn table on Day 1 just because you want them to. MC can fight, if you choose, against UWB. That's not supposed to be a smart choice, but emotions get the best of all of us.

They are only just navigating a worldwide globally famous show with a cheating allegation hanging over their heads, and a manager who wants them to be leader when, up until now, they haven't been. They've just been friends making music and miraculously having a fanbase. Now they're really in it. They have been thrust head first into the industry in a way that is so big that MC has to go from singer playing with their friends to a leader of a band who may just become globally famous in a few months if they play their cards right.

A lot of their actions are influenced by the fact that their band almost broke up and it's a thing that hangs over their head. Their past influences them. That's...how people work.

Now, if we're at Chapter 20 and MC is still acting like a scared bunny who doesn't know what they're doing, then be my guest. Scream in my inbox, I'd understand. That would be terrible writing, but we're not. The tour just started.

I play an MC who did nothing wrong to Seven it just feels like Seven is angry for no reason. Seven is allowed to act like a child while MC has to take it? Doesn't seem fair.

MC doesn't have to take it lol. I've always given an option to be rude to Seven/try to put them in their place.

People think I favor Seven when that's not true. (Seven isn't even my favorite RO)(That title goes to August lol). Seven acts the way they act because they are not in a healthy headspace. Their actions are not meant to be understood, because they are not entirely justified. Seven has a lot of growing up to do, but I have never sat here and advertised Seven's emotions as correct. Everyone knows Seven is childish, everyone knows Seven is handling everything terribly. People in the story have mentioned it. Their abandonment issues GREATLY influence their characterization and actions. MC has abandonment issues as well, of course, but MC is not as emotionally unstable as Seven. That's canon. It is what it is. Seven has a whole subplot about it.

As do other ROs. The only difference is that they're not so open about their struggles. Seven just doesn't care. Their emotions guide them. They can't control it. That's who they are. I have also said that many times.

I don't know why you think Seven can get away with everything when 1) it's only been 2 chapters and 2) no one knows how anyone feels about Sev because it's in MC's POV. Seven goes through their own trial by fire. As every RO does......thats a narrative arc.

Seven was always going to be a plot point, whether they were an RO or not. They were always going to be MC's former best friend.

Everyone has something going for them and what about MC? No one likes them and everyone hates their guts. Aren't they supposed to be the main character? Why does everyone hate them? Why aren't they considered more talented? It just feels like MC is a doormat while Seven and the other ROs are these talented superstars.

This one bothers me the most, mostly because I don't know where this came from. "No one likes them" Jenna and The Jewels does. Slow Crawl does. Their fans do. We haven't even properly met the other bands. Of course there will be bands who don't like MC: they're competitors. They're not friends. They don't know MC, why would they be biased towards them? Because they're the main character? They don't care about that?? It's how fiction works.

Maya is following the band around because of how much she admires MC.

Orion quit his job because MC's singing inspired him that much.

G listened to MC and saw something in them. Literally calls them the 'Chosen One'

Fans of the old band preferred MC over Seven. They liked the songs where MC sang solo. MC was better for their future over Seven. Hence why it was Seven getting demoted, not MC. I've said this. It's in the story.

I don't see how being the lead singer of a band on a global show at 26 makes anyone an actual loser but I digress.

Literally in Part 2 MC is acknowledged so maybe it'd be better if we waited? Say a good few chapters...?

If you wanted a story where MC is Queen level famous right out the gate and the #1 draft pick for BOTB and has no problems and better than everyone, then I'd advise you to look elsewhere. I don't like that. I like giving MC obstacles because conflict creates story. I like MC having to fight for their spot. It's more realistic, and this has never been a story of fame. It's been a story of their journey to fame.

That's their narrative arc. They grow into it.

You are allowed to hate/dislike Seven. I encourage it. I have given MC the option to hate Seven, because I'm aware that what Seven is doing is unfair. I am not punishing you for hating Seven. And this goes for all the ROs. It does not bother me if you dislike my characters. It means I haven't made them squeaky clean and have made them realistic enough to have people both dislike and like them, much like real life. I get it.

I've always advertised Infamous as a messy, angsty and dramatic story. I've used the term 'melodrama' for it often. I've always said the ROs--especially Seven--are flawed. Some more than others. I've said, verbatim, they are not wholly good people. I don't know why people act so shocked when they act some type of way. Like...I've always stayed true to what the story is. Half the dynamics aren't healthy right now...but that's the 'growing up part' of the story we haven't even gotten to yet?

If that doesn't interest you, then that's perfectly okay! If you don't like the narrative arc I have planned for MC, that's fine too! It just becomes a bit disheartening when people ignore the narrative.

I will try harder to write in a way that specifies my intentions. I always believe that if more than a handful of readers have the same complaint, then it's on the writer to fix it.

I hope my tone didn't come off rude, I'm just really really tired of this. I've had to deal with this since even before the demo dropped :) but your critiques are valid and everyone is always free to express themselves however they want. <3

#inbox #'MC is a loser' convo will always follow me I guess #MC will win a grammy and someone will be like: “they're kinda...loserish though? imagine winning a grammy at 30 and not 20 lol” #/j #ill add this to the faq and never talk about it again

[valkyrieromanoff]

PEDRO PASCAL X ACTRESS! READER

Summary: When a question during an interview makes you uncomfortable, Pedro comforts you.

Tags: no romance just hinting, can be read in a platonic way or not, a little bit of angst but with comfort.

I don't know why it took me so long to finish, and in the end I didn't even like it. But anyway, I hope you enjoy it! Sorry for the grammar mistakes.

"That will be the last interview, then you are cleared for lunch." Your manager was notified as she checked the schedules one more time. "Can I call the next interviewer, or do you need a few minutes to prepare?" 

Pedro put his cell phone away in his pants pocket as he stared at you finished your cup of coffee. "I think the sooner we start, the sooner we can have lunch." He suggested it, and you nodded in agreement. Your manager went to notify production.

"Good morning, I'm John, and I thought about asking a few questions and then playing a little game; is that okay with you guys?" He asked, when you nodded, he signaled to the cameraman and started recording.

"Today I'm joined by the lead actors of the new Netflix movie 'Caught Eye', the talented actor known for roles in series like The Mandalorian and Narcos, Pedro Pascal." John spoke, Pedro smiled, and made the peace sign with his hands. "And the actress making her debut, Y/N Y/LN. How are you guys doing?" You smiled with your mouth closed and waved to the camera.

"Always excited to share that film with the public." Your co-star said smiling.

"I heard that you guys recorded on an island where the ferry only came twice a day, is that true?" The interviewer asked, curious.

"Oh, yes, that's true. The production kept reminding us that we had to pay attention because the ferry only made two trips, one at seven in the morning and the other at ten at night. So we couldn't miss it because it wouldn't arrive until the next day; it was something about the tide." Pedro explained, moving his hands as if to exemplify what he was saying.

“Tell me, have you guys ever been late? And miss the ferry?" John asked.

You and Pedro exchanged glances before giggling. He placed his head on your shoulder as you struggled to hold back your laughter.

"Can someone explain to me what I'm missing?" The interviewer asked, after you stopped laughing.

"We missed the ferry only once." You stated, settling into your chair. 

"It was on the last day of recording." Pedro added.

"And for a silly reason." You finished laughing.

"And what would that reason be? If you guys can tell?" John questioned curiously.

"There was a store that sold a variety of tropical fruit liqueurs, and I mentioned during one of the breaks in the recordings that I wanted to try the guava liqueur. But since the tapings ended late, the store was always closed." You commented. “The last day of recording, though, we were given an early release. We went to the store, but there was a long line, so I gave up and went to wait for the ferry. But in the end we ran to the stand when it was ten minutes before it arrived."

"What could go wrong." The interviewer joked.

"Yeah, what could go wrong? It was a very smart choice to go to a huge line to buy a bottle of liquor." Pedro joked, ironizing the situation. "We thought time was just like in Star Wars, that ten minutes is half an hour."

"After we paid for everything, we came back, and obviously the ferry had left." You concluded, rolling your eyes.

"When I went to check my cell phone, it was full of missed calls from the director and production asking, "Where the hell are we?" He said, imitating the director's voice.

"At least the liquor was good?" The interviewer asked.

"No." You spoke, laughing.

"It was horrible." Pedro complemented, making an exaggerated reaction of false sadness.Then the interview continued with more questions about the movie, the characters, the filming, and asking for some spoilers.

"So, Y/N, do you think the fact that you're acting with such a talented actor like Pedro Pascal in your first role made you nervous? Aware that maybe you would be overshadow?" The interviewer asked. "Or perhaps you were out of place because you didn't have the same level of acting?"

"Oh" You sighed anxiously. Pedro stared at you out of the corner of his eye. Your voice tone let him know that you were upset with the comment.

"Hey, that was rude and unnecessary of you to say." He caught the interviewer's eye. "Every member of the cast is equally talented; no one overshadows anyone. But if I were to pick someone, I would say that in certain scenes I may have been overshadowed by Y/N's brilliant talent. She delivered her all in every performance." You murmured a thank you to him as Pedro gently rested his hand on your leg, squeezing gently.

"I think it's normal for me to be nervous; as you emphasized yourself it's my first film. And a lot of the people in the cast I grew up watching, so it's a privilege to have this opportunity." You spoke up, trying to disguise your discomfort. "And I am very proud of the end result of our work.”

The rest of the interview passed like a blur; you shut down completely, only answering when questions were directed at you. When the interviewer left, you allowed yourself to release the tension. Well, Pedro had warned you that reporters can be too much.

"There aren't many varieties of food here; I think the best thing to do is to go for the classic pepperoni pizza, which you don't have..." Pedro interrupted his suggestion when he noticed you covering your face with your hands. “Hey, what's going on? What makes you feel this way?" He asked, standing next to you.

"Nothing, I'm fine." You insisted, using the back of your hand to dry your tears.

"Look, I'm not going to force you to tell me what's going on, but I want you to know that everything that interviewer said is not true; you're as talented as any actor in that movie." When placing his hand on your shoulder, Pedro spoke. “Of course, as time goes on, you'll get better at acting; you'll change and inspire other people.”He went on while rubbing your shoulder. “But right now, what matters is that you gave it your best effort; fame will come in due course.Many actors, myself included, take years to build up a career, and that's alright.”

You lifted your gaze to face him, your face a little more relaxed. "Can I hug you?" 

“Come here.” Pedro spoke, pulling you into his arms. He held you up to him, and as he caressed your hair, you laid your head on the arc of his neck. You have no idea how long you stayed there, cuddled against one another. You thought he would have the best hugs, and you were right.

"You know, I think I'll have that pizza you recommended." You said, pulling away from the hug.

Pedro smiled.  "As you wish." He said, entangling your arm in his while you looked for the pizza place. Every now and then, Pedro would crack a joke and look away to make sure you were okay. At the end of the day, you reflected on the events, and as uncomfortable as some moments were, you got through them together, and that was enough to put you to sleep with a smile.

#pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal imagine #pedro pascal x actress reader #pedro pascal

[svsss-fanon-exposed]

Exposing SVSSS Fanon: 15/∞

SHEN (YUAN) QINGQIU IS A MONSTER NERD

Rating: CANON

One of the most common character traits of Shen Yuan!Qingqiu is his fascination with the monsters and demonic beasts of PIDW. This portrayal is based in canon, as he is shown on multiple occasions to have a particular interest-- in fact, the monsters were the reason he decided to keep reading PIDW in the first place:

There was another important “it” factor. It was, in fact, the main element that had first compelled Shen Qingqiu to follow the novel until the end. The demonic beasts! ... As a cultivation novel, it was out-and-out filled with landmines, but as a monster handbook, it was pretty entertaining. (7 Seas, Ch. 4)

This passage implies that Shen Yuan found the monsters entertaining, and enjoyed them over most of the rest of the novel. However, he is often portrayed in fanworks as having an obsession, special interest, or hyperfixation on demonic beasts.

This also has basis in canon. A bit later on there is the following passage:

Shen Qingqiu wasn’t so pessimistic about his ability to handle demonic beasts. His confidence in his own cultivation and spiritual power aside, his interest in the demonic beasts of Proud Immortal Demon Way had far surpassed his interest in all those flavors of women. He might not have remembered where any given female protagonist liked to go stargazing with Luo Binghe after being slighted, and he sometimes was unable to match names to characters, but he definitely remembered every demonic beast’s attributes and weaknesses with exacting clarity! (7 Seas, Ch. 4)

Speaking from my own experiences, this certainly does sound like a hyperfixation. Remembering the variety of beasts, and perhaps even every single one, would be the same as a usual level of interest, but the fact that Shen Qingqiu had perfectly memorized every attribute of every beast in a novel several million words long certainly seems to fall more into hyperfixation territory.

When it came to Proud Immortal Demon Way’s demonic beasts, he’d really asked the right person. Shen Qingqiu spoke with great familiarity, like he was listing his family treasures. (7 Seas, Ch. 4)

Another instance here, where it shows just how highly he values his knowledge of PIDW's beasts and how familiar he is with them.

Of course, on some level, this knowledge of demonic beasts is expected of his position:

The walking demon encyclopedia—both the original and current flavor could definitively live up to this title. After all, there was that stack of records and ancient books in the back of Qing Jing Peak’s Bamboo House, the same ones that hundreds of generations of peak lords had to read in full before they were allowed to succeed the position. (7 Seas, Ch. 6)

But we must keep in mind that Shen Yuan was not originally the Qing Jing Peak Lord and had no intention on becoming the Qing Jing Peak Lord when he read PIDW-- and the knowledge he has originally comes from reading the novel, so he was not only learning all of this because it was required of his position. Where Shen Jiu might have learned these thing out of necessity, Shen Yuan did so out of passion and genuine interest from even before his transmigration.

This is further supported by a comparison with other readers of PIDW:

He could never have guessed that Shen Qingqiu’s interest in such strange creatures was equivalent to the average Zhongdian reader’s interest in the hundreds of flower-like maidens, each more beautiful than the last. (7 Seas, Ch. 5)

Now, I have noticed that fanworks will have a tendency to play up his obsession with demonic beasts-- while he definitely does have some form of hyperfixation with them, it is not as prevalent in the novel itself (at least, the events that we, the readers see).

My guess as to why this is? Well, it's simply because he is obsessed with the demonic beasts, but he is even more obsessed with Luo Binghe. It's just not as easy for him to admit that.

So in conclusion, Shen Qingqiu's internal monologue indicates that he has some level of obsession, special interest, or hyperfixation with PIDW's demonic beasts. Though it may not be quite as intense or all-encompassing as fanworks often portray it, it would still be perfectly in-line with his character to have him gushing (at least internally) over the beasts of the demon realm while traveling with Luo Binghe.

#fanon exposed #canon #svsss #shen qingqiu #shen yuan

[muddyorbsblr]

feels like mine pt2

See my full list of works here!

Summary: On the worst day of his life, Tom receives an offer impossible to refuse: getting you back. Well, almost…

Pairing: Tom Hiddleston x Reader

Word Count: 2.2k

Warnings: major character death; possibly a wonky timeline (the math wasn't and still isn't mathing in my pea brain); probably a wonky depiction of soulmates [let me know if i missed anything!]

Things to be aware of: sad meow meow hours

Three days ago…

After a good dozen takes on the same sequence from a variety of angles, Tom finally had a moment to himself, giving his assistant a signal to retrieve his phone so that he could give you a call. You'd been apart for nearly a month at this point and he missed you terribly.

The only remote relief he'd get was hearing your voice as often as he possibly could. You'd tell him all about the plot of the book you were reviewing, or what details you could divulge on the shows you were working on. Considering that you often had ironclad NDAs for them these days, you'd usually tell him of the former as it was less of a minefield.

Once his assistant handed over his phone, however, his heart caught in his throat at the screen that greeted him. Over a dozen missed calls from an unknown number in the last few hours, preceded by a text message from you.

Tom, sweetie, I'm in the hospital. It's no big deal, just a little road accident, don't worry about me. I might not be able to answer your calls for a while, since they're taking me in for surgery in a few minutes. I love you. Always.

With trembling hands, Tom returned the call from the unknown number, his heart so heavy in his chest it was a struggle to even breathe right. The next words felt as if they passed through him in a blur; he could only pick up on bits and pieces from the other end.

Drunk driver. T-bone. Internal bleeding.

And the worst words of all. I'm deeply sorry for your loss.

He took the soonest possible flight back to London, everything around him seemed a blur until he finally got to the home you two shared, his and your mothers waiting for him inside. That was the moment he finally broke, dropping to his knees and breaking out into sobs, the horrible reality cruelly sinking in once he saw their completely distraught faces.

They took your body to be cremated that day, allowing him a few minutes to say goodbye before they began the process. Your mother advised him against looking into the body bag, insisting that he wouldn't want that as his last memory of you, that he should at least get to live on with his final memory of your face being that of the loving, beaming wife he knew and loved.

The next time that you came out, it was in an urn, weighing just about the same as a baby, and he cradled you as such. For the entire car ride back to your home until he settled you in his study.

"We didn't have enough time," he said through his tears, stroking the golden urn as if he was stroking your hair. "We should have had more time."

At that moment, a voice pierced the solemn silence of your home. "I'm sorry for your loss, Thomas."

When Tom turned to see who the unwelcome visitor was, he couldn't find any words to say except one. "Impossible."

"Quite possible, really," Loki shot back, stepping into the study with palms open in a sign to tell your husband that the god meant no harm. "Anything's possible in this multiverse, I'm slowly coming to find. And in that realm of possibility, I have something to offer you."

"All due respect, I want nothing that you can give," Tom declared sullenly. "You can't give me my wife back."

"And what if I said that I can? Well, in a way."

That suddenly got Tom's full attention, placing an arm in front of your urn as if he was still trying to protect you. As if that could really do anything against a god. "I'm listening," he said cautiously.

"I've recently learnt that in every universe, there is an iteration or an echo of me, and a corresponding iteration of Y/N. In this universe, Thomas, you are my echo. In every universe, Y/N's echo is destined to fall in love with mine, and in almost every universe, that love is reciprocated," the god began to explain, creating an illusion with a wave of his hand of your wedding day.

It was nearly enough to mesmerize Tom completely, almost losing himself in the memory. In happier times. "Hang on, what do you mean almost every universe?"

"Ah, yes. That part. Well, you see, Thomas…in the universes where my echo takes on your form, world-famous actor, hordes of adoring men and women and everyone in between at his feet, getting an entire crowd to fall silent with a finger to his lips--"

"I get it, I get it, can we keep it moving, please?"

"Right then. In the universes where my echo is…Tom Hiddleston, while it is a guarantee that Y/N will love Tom, it is not a guarantee that Tom will love Y/N. There are universes where Tom barely even knows of her existence. She's in the hordes, a part of her soul knowing that she's doing exactly what she was designed to do, but confused as to why she feels as if a part of her is missing somehow."

"That's--" Tom's words choked off in a sob at the back of his throat, a new type of sadness overcoming him as he imagined a world where he never even knew you. Never loved you. "That's miserable."

"It is," the god agreed. "My offer to you is that I can reach into one of these universes where her love for you is unreturned, and I can bring her to you. Fulfill what her heart yearns for, and in return, you have an echo of your wife. Have the time that was stolen from you so harshly. So unfairly."

Tom considered the offer carefully, only moments passing before he had his first question. "What of her universe? Her family?"

"In these worlds she doesn't have much of one. For the most part she's alone, and has learnt to fend for herself in lieu of a support system." Both their hearts broke for those iterations of you, the thought of you taking on the world without anyone by your side was nearly enough to bring both men to their knees. "If you were to accept, then it would be a simple enough spell with barely any ripple effect to nullify her existence and memories of her from the minds of those still around to remember her."

Every part of him wanted to jump at the offer. To accept it without thinking. Getting another chance to spend a life with you? There should have been no hesitation at all. Except…

"If she's anything like my Y/N, she'll be smart enough to ask questions. Why her life's different from what she knew before. Whose remains are in the urn in my study. What do I tell her then?"

"That is entirely up to you." Loki's answer was not in the least bit comforting. "You can conjure up a story that she will be inclined to believe, or you can tell her the truth. Alternatively, I can offer you an easier way out of this as well. Surrender your late wife's remains to me and I can keep her somewhere safe. That way you can live on with creating your new life with this echo of your Y/N without being as tethered to your past; after all, if you wish to start this life with her, then she deserves to have you love her to the fullest extent you can afford. She deserves not to be loved half-heartedly by someone still clinging to the ghosts of his past."

Much as he agreed completely with the sentiment, Tom found himself hesitating at the thought of simply surrendering your ashes to the god. He knew what the trade would mean, and that he in turn would have more time with a version of you; however, a part of him still protested.

For would this not be a dishonor to your memory? To simply let go of you and the time he'd gotten to know you and fall in love with you in exchange for something that might not even live up to his memory of you?

And on the other hand, he thought about the version of you that was doomed to live your life with an unrequited love. The knowledge that your souls were only partly intertwined in that world had him hurt for that iteration of you. You did deserve to be loved with the same magnitude that you gave love. And if he could give that to you, then the only way that he could do so was to accept that this wouldn't be a life wherein he picked up where you and he left off. He would be building something new entirely.

It was a near impossible choice. But ultimately he knew which way he would go.

Loki's offer meant more time with you. It meant having you again. Even if it was an echo of you. At its core, it was still you.

Right?

"What would you do?" he asked the god.

"If I lost my Y/N? I'd turn the multiverse inside out to have her again. Rearrange the Realms itself until she was by my side." He paced the room as he continued his answer. "Any version of her." A smirk tugged at the onyx-haired man's mouth before tilting up his chin, assuming an all-knowing stance. "But seeing as you are an echo of me, you already knew that this was the answer, didn't you? You simply needed to hear it outside of your own thoughts. Solidify your decision."

Tom could only nod, the depth of the situation still tremendously lost on him. All he knew was that if he did this, he would have you back.

He placed your urn on the desk, pushing it towards Loki. "What do I do now?"

The god held out his hand. "Firstly, your wife's ring. I'll need it when I find an echo of her that leads her life all alone. It will be her first tie to this universe. Your universe." Tom placed your wedding ring into his hand. "Secondly, you grieve. You've suffered a great loss, and what I am to do is not a replacement of your late wife, and should not be treated as such. Mourn your loss for the next day. Then after tomorrow night, go about your morning routinely, as if she were alive."

Tom nodded again. "How will I know that it worked?"

Loki only shrugged at the actor. "Have faith. Faith that you'll see your wife again the morning after next."

With that, the god disappeared, taking both your remains and your wedding ring with him. And Tom heeded the advice, crawling into the bed you shared with him, all the memories of the life you built together and the possibilities of the life you were yet to build overwhelming him. The weight of your lost future all but crushing his heart into a million pieces.

And he wept himself to sleep.

Today…

On the second morning after Loki's offer, Tom rose from your shared bed and listened to the god's instructions from days before. He laced his shoes up, went on his usual morning run, changed into business casual attire as if he was scheduled for a Zoom call in a short while, and proceeded to start preparing a breakfast for two.

Once he had coffee brewing, he started preparing a lavish breakfast for you two to share, starting with a fruit platter. "Have faith," he whispered to himself, making the last second decision to make it a touch more decadent with a small bowl of Nutella to dip the fruit into.

If this truly was going to work, he would spoil you at every turn moving forward. Never another minute squandered, nor another craving denied.

"Have faith," he whispered again, putting on an apron to prevent any spills from ruining his white dress shirt and proceeding to slice up the fruit.

Then he heard the bedroom door open. And for the first time in days he felt the tiniest glimmer of hope.

He waited until you made your way down the stairs, fighting every urge to meet you halfway and take you into his arms. He knew you needed to acclimate into this life you'd been suddenly thrust into; Loki had done his part, now it was his turn to ease you into your new reality.

Your footsteps got closer and closer until finally they stopped just outside the kitchen area. That was the only time Tom allowed himself to turn around and look at you, relief flooding his system once he laid his eyes on you. In the silk navy blue nightgown, wearing your wedding ring.

He finally felt like he could breathe again.

"Good morning, sweetheart."

A/N: *peeks from the corner* I promised I'd have a sequel for 'feels like mine' up, and here it issssss 🫡 This isn't 'sworn fealty' after all 🤣 (in all seriousness though I will be working on a sequel to that I just have 0 idea when)

And technically this isn't a sequel but more of a prequel to part 1…all I can promise you is that there is a part 3 and it's spicy 😳👀 Dunno when that'll be out tho because I'll be returning to the requests pile but we'll see where the vibe takes me

'everything' taglist: @simplyholl @loopsisloops @imalovernotahater @coldnique @loz-3 @huntress-artemis @salempoe @vickie5446 @athalialaufeyson @lokiprompts @kats72 @kikster606 @asgards-princess-of-mischief @lokixryss @thomase1 @mischief2sarawr @peaches1958 @lovingchoices14 @lunarnights95 @goblingirlsarah @iamlokisgloriouspurpose @creationsbyme @maple-seed @mjsthrillernp @ladyofthestayingpower @mygfloki @sititran @glitterylokislut @ozymdias @fictive-sl0th  @lokidbadguy @mochie85 @silverfire475 @joyful-enchantress @elizabethmidnight2017 @holdmytesseract @smolvenger @gigglingtiggerv2 @lokidokieokie @lunarnights95 @superficialdomina @kmc1989 @november-rayne @goddessofwonderland @buttercupcookies-blog @peaky-marvel @lokiified

#tom hiddleston x reader #tom hiddleston x female reader #tom hiddleston fanfic #tom hiddleston fanfiction #tom hiddleston imagine #muddyorbs writes

[littlecrittereli]

Random WK Headcanon dump

Here's a silly list of headcanons I have about team Wild Kratts, in no particular order other than what comes into my head first:

Heights:

Martin and Chris are based off their real heights and I filled everyone else in based off how they look standing next to each other. I exaggerated Aviva and Koki's height a little bit, just for some variety.

Koki is the tallest at 6' (182.9 cm)

Martin is 5'10 (177.8 cm)

Jimmy is 5'9 (175.3 cm)

Chris is 5'8 (172.7 cm)

and Aviva is the shortest at 5'3 (160 cm)

Reference:

Ages:

Martin is definitely the oldest at 25

Aviva is 24

Jimmy and Koki are both 23, Jimmy being a few months older

And Chris is runner up at 21

The reason for the small age gap is because Martin was ultimately the person that put together the Tortuga team when he graduated college, and he picked students that were also close to graduation at the time. Chris would have just been starting college, but would join them upon graduation because of his connection through Martin. Other freshmen at the time would not have qualified for the research grant.

Birthdays!!!

Martin: Dec 23rd (he's a capricorn)

Aviva: Nov 4th (She's a scorpio)

Jimmy: April 20th (He's a taurus)

Koki: August 27th (She's a virgo)

Chris: July 19th (He's a cancer)

Identities:

(Disclaimer this is referring to the fictional Wild Kratts animated characters ONLY. Not the actual people they are based on.)

Martin: he/him, bisexual. But his preference is women.

He's probably had a handful of girlfriends and a couple of boyfriends throughout high school and college, but unfortunately had too big of ambitions to settle down with anyone.

Aviva: she/her, bisexual. She doesn't have a preference.

She has probably been on like... 2 dates max. She has always been much more focused on her education and bettering her inventions than dating. Her only standard for a partnership is someone who can keep up with her intelligence. Or at least someone she can learn from and grow with.

Jimmy: he/him, straight.

He literally does not care, but he would probably kiss a man if the opportunity arose. Had a girlfriend in kindergarten and they spoke twice, but since she moved schools and they never officially broke up, he's still technically off the market.

Koki: she/they lesbian. SHE LIKES WOMEN

tried to date a man. regretted it. Has probably been in a couple semi-serious relationships, but didn't work out for various reasons. She's content to focus on her career for now but someday would love to be a mom.

Chris: he/they aroace

only proclaimed to have a crush on a girl in high school because everyone else was talking about crushes and he didn't want to feel left out. Doesn't really like to be touched in general. Would rather cut off his hand than be forced to hold someone else's in a non platonic way. When someone has a crush on him, he does not know how to respond so he literally just ignores them.

Silly Stuff:

-As a zoologist, Martin knows more about animal behaviors, classification, and identification. Meanwhile, Chris as a biologist knows more about the anatomy and general science of animals. For example, Martin would be able to explain the reasoning behind a firefly's glow while Chris would be able to explain the chemical reaction that makes the glow possible. And they are constantly sharing and learning from each other as well.

-Chris has glasses, he just doesn't really use them very often. They would get in the way of creature adventuring so he only wears them if he's reading or something. They aren't super crucial, it just helps with small words.

-Game nights are VERY serious on the Tortuga. Jimmy is suspiciously good at card/board games. He pretty much always wins. It's to the point where everyone else is on a team against him. Sometimes he lets them win and it has sent the entire team into a fight. Sorry has been banned in the Tortuga because of this.

-Koki's a huge theatre nerd. She participated in plays recreationally throughout high school, and will often hum or sing while she's doing a task.

-Martin plays the guitar and has a mediocre singing voice. It's nothing spectacular but he can carry a tune. Sometimes when the Tortuga is parked somewhere remote for the night, they will make a campfire and sing a few songs.

-Aviva has roller skates built into her shoes (SIDE NOTE: This is something we see very often in season 1 but they seemed to have forgotten about it??? or retconned it??? BUT I HATE IT BECAUSE THEY WERE SO COOL PLEASE BRING BACK THE ROLLER SKATES)

-Martin is a terrible driver. (The oldest sibling curse) He knows he's a terrible driver, but pretends he's not. Chris will usually try to take the driver's seat to prevent Martin from driving, but sometimes Martin beats him there. Will deflect any evidence of him being a bad driver. "That curb shouldn't have been there" Someone please revoke his license, he's a danger to society.

-Jimmy is definitely the best cook out of all of them. He makes food for the team most of the time, unless they are on a longer flight and he has to pilot. Koki and Chris are pretty competent chefs "Just read the recipe it's not that hard". Martin's basically limited to ramen noodles and microwave mac and cheese. Aviva, try as she might, can NOT cook. She will BURN water. (she always overcomplicates the recipes by trying to utilize an invention or something)

-Koki likes to crochet. She likes to keep her hands busy so whenever she's doing a rather boring task, like monitoring for bad weather/villains while the bros are out, she crochets.

-Jimmy gets insane jet lag, and since they are bouncing from different time zones all the time, he can never really catch up. Not to mention he has to stay up for irregular hours to fly the Tortuga. This is why he's always napping, and why the others usually leave him alone to sleep unless it's important.

#wild kratts #chris kratt #martin kratt #aviva corcovado #wild kratts koki #jimmy z #wild kratts headcanon #littlecrittereli #These are so random but they are just thoughts that have been stuck in my head for a while #also its just for fun and how I personally view their dynamic :) #found family Tortuga Team

[featherwurm]

At some point between Moonrise and Baulder's Gate - the crew stops to clean up a bit, and I have an excessive amount of thoughts about social bathing as it applies to the tadfools:

Baulder’s Gate features several bathhouses (including the landmark location Hissing Stones) and they seem geared to a wide variety of clientele; pragmatic (bathing), personal (social and solicitous), and political (a place of meeting) – it can be assumed that group bathing is a norm in the city at all social strata, although wealthier private residences also undoubtedly feature private bathing arrangements. Gender divides do not seem common in Baulder’s Gate on a whole*, and co-ed bathing could likely be a norm as well.

Individual headcanons below the cut - your mileage may vary, this is pulled roughly out of D&D lore, a few character interactions, thoughts about Roman baths, and my ass;

Tav – From the lower middle class of Baulder’s Gate, she grew up with normal family outings to the bathhouse to clean and socialize. In the monastery, cohabiting with a variety of people, group bathing was also a norm (also just… hanging out on a hot day with your buddies or whatever.) Her order views the body kindly, though not worshipfully, and does not view it as a vehicle of shame. It should be cared for with attention and thought to best use it, and while pleasure is inherent (and unshameful) to human nature it is not fundamentally a part of just being naked. She finds nothing out of the ordinary to toss off your clothes and jump in the river with your buddies.

Karlach – Also from Baulder’s Gate’s lower social strata, she too grew up using bathhouses as a place to get clean, have some fun, and be extremely bored while your parents caught up on the gossip. Similarly, working for Gortash meant the occasional political meeting at the Hissing Stones or other locations (a place you CERTAINLY want to take your bodyguard – although she wouldn’t get to enjoy the bathhouse while working). Living in Avernus for a decade in a militaristic setting has also thrown off her sense of normalcy – if you ever get a chance to clean up there (extremely rarely) you take it whatever the circumstance may be. She’s happy to get naked, get in the water, and get clean whoever the company is. (As little children, both Tav and Karlach had to be actively removed from fountains, the river, and suitably large puddles when they presented the opportunity to be in the water – which both of them love.)

Shadowheart – Sharans and the enclave she is from seem to have some issues with pleasures of the flesh and see them as negative and to be shunned. Life is misery and pain and you better get used to it through daily practice. Given her lack of memory of any childhood normalcy, any time spent around other people in a casual way is long gone. She does not seem to have come out of it with bodily shame herself, but undoubtedly finds the idea of just being comfortable with nudity in a platonic way to be alien. Given that she can’t swim, it adds another layer of discomfort being in the water. It takes her some time to warm up to jumping in the river with the others, but she does come round, although she sticks to the shallows until she learns to swim.

Lae’zel – Githyanki don’t seem to have any shame about bodies, at least given their various styling of armor and clothing. Given their almost eusocial social structure and militaristic culture, it’s unlikely there’s much stigma over the body or that of others. She’s certainly with a peculiar group here, but whatever, you need to get the blood out of your hair eventually – the others are sort of strange-looking to her eye for a while though (Shadowheart, Gale, and Astarion seeming like the frail offspring of some small animal with their soft pinkness, Karlach, Tav, and Wyll resembling more of carapaced insects with their ridges and horns.)

Gale – While Waterdeep has it’s spas, these seem more places of relaxation and retreat rather than practical bathing establishments (he does like a nice relaxing treatment – in a robe of course.) Gale has spent so long cooped up in his tower having a weird relationship with the goddess of magic that the idea of just… casually being naked with other mortal people is probably completely off his radar. It is not culturally or personally familiar to him, and feels a little uncouth. He’s going to find a reason to go cook and then clean up by himself later.

Astarion – Speaking of any sense of normalcy having been long gone, his only real use of Baulder’s Gate’s bathhouses has been picking up victims for the last couple centuries (almost always in a sexual context.) Approaching casual bathing with others as any kind of normal is something that will take a reserved approach and a lot of patience as with most things with him. He’s snarky and weird about the whole thing, but it’s to be expected. He later more politely refuses as he works on boundaries and sorts himself out – there’s not enough time in game to sort this shit out. Plus he smells a bit of death no matter what he does – apart from physically getting stuff off his body he’s more reliant on perfume than bathing to feel clean.

Wyll – From Baulder’s Gate and used to playing around wherever he feels like it, it’s not foreign to him to enjoy a bathhouse or river romp (especially in light of various political bargaining happening in the baths) but being from the upper class of Baulder’s Gate he’s not the most casual about it. In his time away from Baulder’s Gate, and being as young as he was, he’s become a little sensitive about it, given his gentlemanly approach developed through his time in the wilds. Still though, it wouldn’t put him off, prior to Mizora’s transformation of him, at which point he’s got body image issues to work through before he’s comfortable again. The tieflings (Karlach and Tav) try to be re-assuring but they come on a little strong about it (hard not to – what he’s viewing as demonic punishment they view as normal for their own bodies – horns and ridges and all.)

Halsin – Look we all know the man likes to be naked and “one with nature”. Bodies are normal and being naked is natural. He’s not caught up on anything, although he might be literally a bear about it if he’s comfortable.

Jahira – Another Baulder’s Gate native who’s used to the city’s amenities. She is much too old and much too traveled to be fussed about who’s around at the evening wash up. She might pretend to be offended or ruffled (or too casual) if she thinks it’s funny – otherwise she’s too busy soaking her joints to care.

Minsc – Minsc is just happy to be here. Are we bonding by bathing together? Ok! But be careful of Boo – he is a delicate creature and gets very angry if he gets soap in his eyes.

Minthara… wasn’t in my playthough, sorry. But I’m certain she’d have the opinion that it’s normal for the ladies to socialize and such while washing but involving the men is bizarre and tasteless.

*Given the normalcy of non-binary, trans, and intersex bodies and identities in BG3, which I personally love.

#BG3 #baulders gate 3 #headcanon #art #personal #sketch

[carrotsofthepirabbean]

I will say I think part of the reason OG Kirk isn't more popular on Tumblr is because he can't be crammed into the 'If one part of a ship is the unemotional logical one the other one MUST be the bouncy himbo sparkle softboy' cliche. Kirk can be goofy and has a good sense of humor, he teases and laughs, but speaking in Lord of the Rings terms, Kirk isn't Pippin, he's Aragorn.

Which is SO much tougher for the 'must distill every variety of character into the same 5 different people' crowd on Tumblr. There isn't an 'Aragorn' slot because 'incredibly complicated' isn't descriptive enough for cliche. Like yes, he's charming, but it's the quiet sort of charming. Yes, he's a strong athlete and a fighter, but he's fundamentally a shockingly huge nerd and spends his private time reading poetry and thinking about philosophy and what it means to be a leader. Yes, he's haunted, but he has a fundamental hope that keeps shining through. Kirk's got a serious job, and he's a serious person. He's an Adult kind of adult. He's one of the last survivors of a horrific genocide. He's killed people with his bare hands.

Spock wasn't bowled over by how bright and shiny and cuddly Kirk was. Because underneath everything, there's a fundamental sadness and loneliness to Kirk, and a simmering possibility of rage that most people would consider Abnormal. And Spock shares those qualities, though for different reasons. The thing that really shakes Spock (besides Kirk's iron sense of loyalty) is that there are times where KIRK is more coolheaded and professional than Spock is. In everyday terms, Kirk is easily and confidently emotional in a way Spock was always taught was a weakness, but when the shit hits the fan Kirk gets this shine of cold, calculating, James Bond-like brutality/practicality that not only meets Spock's Vulcan control, it will at times go PAST it. Surviving that genocide gave Kirk access to both a level of iron-willed 'do whatever is necessary to live no matter what' and a level of genuinely bloodcurdling rage that, when death is on the line, reads sometimes like a Vulcan on steroids. In a battle-type situation Kirk has absolutely looked at Spock and snapped like 'for god's sake, control yourself', and that is some whiplash a Vulcan doesn't just get OVER.

At the very start OG Kirk is already both wildly famous for and frighteningly good at being a commander, better than Spock is by miles, which forces Spock to confront his self-hate fueled 'Vulcans are better' prejudices over and over again until Spock has a starry-eyed admiration for Kirk that knocks him so hard into love that Spock's teeth rattle. Kirk isn't Some Soft Boy that grows on Famous Vulcan Spock against his will. Kirk is the most talented Starfleet officer in generations- He's Horatio Nelson, except not an imperialist asshole. Spock is (at first) just Some Science Guy who managed to nail one of the most coveted jobs in Starfleet.

Like, what is Tumblr going to do with a Kirk (who is supposed to be the bouncy soft boy half of Spirk) who looks coldly at an alien who is killing people and without hesitation goes 'I am a military man, we have a mission, we don't have time to understand motivations, kill that thing' and calmly walks off? And then Spock, (the unemotional logical one) is the one going after him going 'please, this is a thinking creature, it could be scared or hurt, think of its feelings, at least let me try to talk to it'. And like, the big lesson of the episode is KIRK being convinced by Spock to care more and be more empathetic?

Like, that's not some shit Tumblr can fit into its 'five acceptable personalities for every single ship ever'. There isn't a category for 'one is the logical one and the other one is the guy in charge on the battlefield that the men point their swords at while yelling "to the king!"'

But, it does make me a bit sad, because god, the relationship between Kirk and Spock is unique. Because Kirk is SUCH a freak. If there's a fictional personality grouping Kirk is a part of it's like Kirk, Chris Evans' Captain America, Aragorn, and nobody.

I super agree! AOS Kirk fits the bill more for the ship dynamics tumblr focuses on (and I do really love Chris Pine's performance, not half because it was what introduced me to Star Trek in the first place), but I do find TOS Kirk more intriguing because he has such layers. He's scarily competent, youngest captain in Starfleet and it's not like you get in that position by being a sunshine flower boy - he's got a streak of cold practicality that, yeah, is super apparent in Devil in the Dark. But he's also warm, loving, and physically affectionate with his closest friends, professional with his subordinates and his duties, calculating with his enemies, and overall an exceedingly intelligent individual who does not take his position and responsibilities lightly. And in terms of his relationship with Spock, it was all those things that drew Spock's respect and interest, and not (checks notes) his being a "bouncy himbo sparkle soft-boy". He's just a wonderful character <3

#I do however love a good 'spock blushes cause jim is physically affectionate' thing though #as is clearly apparent in the last drawing i posted. but i love jim for being a responsible and mature leader #including the kind of cold and practical decisions he makes #as well as being a warm and affectionate man #god i do fucking lvoe that man god help me #ask #star trek #jim kirk #star trek tos