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tsukimefuku · 2 months

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The man who played with fire

After some drinks by yourself and getting frustrated with someone, you stupidly knock on Higuruma's door to test a theory.

To vibe: Misery - Maroon 5

Tags: +18 (!!!), WITH PLOT (there is always a plot), Jujutsu Kaisen, SMUT, f!reader, Higuruma x reader, some alcohol consumption, he's so in love, she's so clueless, reader is being kind of an asshole, oral sex, cunt-locking, penetration, light f!top x m!bottom dynamic, involves some love-triangle classic shenanigans.

WC: 3.4K

Hey, this is actually my first smut piece! Hope you guys enjoy my filth. This is part of my "Jujutsu Partners Canon Divergence AU", a sequence of short stories and random drabbles for a Nanami x f!reader x Higuruma fanfic I'll eventually write (eventually). This is preceded specially by "Kindness and Sunflowers", link here. To see the ever-growing list of one-shots, please visit my masterlist :)

Disclaimer: they’re NOT written and posted in chronological order of events. To see where this story fits in the timeline, please check the masterlist mentioned above.

Fair warning: I like writing characters being humanely assholes and clueless idiots. Be warned.

"I can't believe this," you muttered to yourself. You were drinking alone at the bar, and the darkness served to hide your blushed-by-fury face. After what you called The Event, Nanami asked to talk, only to end up lecturing you about the shortcomings of a jujutsu sorcerer's life. As if you didn't know, given all the losses you had experienced over the years, precisely due to Tengen's established Jujutsu Society. "He can't be serious, lecturing me about this shit." Still talking to yourself, like a crazy person, you tried to let your anger go down with five cold pints of beer. It was definitely not working.

Your phone rang, and Nanami's name lit up on your screen, much to your annoyance. You immediately refused the call and flipped the phone down on the table, feeling all your rage bubbling up from the darkest depths of hell. You needed a release, any kind of release — an exorcism, most likely.

Or, you could try something else.

Peering around the bar, you started looking for someone that you could consider even remotely interesting — but no one, nothing, nada. Given this was a Tuesday night, there were only you and some monotonous people scattered around the murky lighting, encompassed by the noise of a few clicking glasses.

That was when your phone started to rumble to the sound of some text messages, and you grabbed it ready to pitch the phone across the vicinity, believing it was Nanami again. But, much to your surprise, it was actually Higuruma texting you. You were so angry that you had completely forgotten to talk to him today.

He was basically asking how you were, given that you hadn't texted back since yesterday, and you were both chatting on a daily basis for weeks by this point.

That was when you had a greatly horrible (or horribly great?) idea. After all, how could a decision made under the influence, at night, while angry at someone you knew you had feelings for, be bad? This is fine.

"Are you busy right now?" You sent him, feeling the beer breeze warmly through your nostrils every time you exhaled. You have a crush on him, but that's it, this is fine. And oh, you did. Ever since you dropped him off in his apartment the night he was freed from Jujutsu High's headquarters, you knew that there was definitely something stirring up — at least from your end. Higuruma was drunk, he didn't make a move, and could just have been kind of clingy, to be honest, so you decided to let it go for the time being. Every time you got a little too excited to meet or talk to him recently, you reminded yourself very sternly you weren't a schoolgirl.

But you wouldn't let it go today, because today, you really wanted to know.

"Nothing, really. I just got home." Higuruma promptly answered.

"Can I come over?" You texted back, and locked your screen right after, instantly anxious and eager at the same time. What the fuck is wrong with me? What am I thinking? What am I doing? This can't be a good ide-

"Of course, I'd be delighted." He replied. "And then you could actually see the sunflower is doing very well, in spite of me."

You left the money on the counter and ran off, shushing your thoughts out loud.

***

This was a terrible idea, but I think I can just hang out for an hour, make small talk and then leave, you started to negotiate mentally with yourself right after the three knocks on the door gave some sanity back to your brain.

However, after Higuruma opened the door and cocked his head to lean it against the door frame, you knew you were completely doomed. He had the top of his white shirt unbuttoned, his tie was hanging loosely around his neck, and his sleeves were rolled up enough for you to see his beautifully defined forearms. His hair had the perfect messy-I-just-got-home look to it, and you instantly wanted to drive your hands through his pitch black locks.

Oh shit, you thought to yourself, feeling something stir up in your body — and it surely wasn't anger.

It must have been a moment, because he started to look a little puzzled. "Hey, come in." Higuruma said, as if he was repeating himself. Did you not hear him the first time he invited you in?

"Of course. Thank you." You replied, looking down and hushing yourself inside his apartment. You could feel your face burning, and imagined how much of an idiot you were being right now for ever believing this could go anything but wrong.

"Are you okay? You seem out of sorts." He pointed out, closing the door behind him. "Can I get you anything? I got some beer from the convenience store, and there might be water somewhere in the kitchen."

"I'm fine, I just ran here to get some cardio." You clumsily replied, sitting on the couch. "I came from the bar, actually. Already drank some beers. No need."

Higuruma huffed out a soft chuckle, still a little confused, but now intent on prying. "You're not helping your case. You mean to say that you, a jujutsu sorcerer that exercises heavily, decided to get some cardio done while walking under the influence, from a bar, at night, to meet me?"

"Yes. That's what I meant. Quit prying." You responded, not knowing what the hell else you could say. Tell him that you came rushing just so you wouldn't have the time for second guessing on having s- no, you wouldn't do that.

"Hm." He hummed to himself, grabbing a can and sitting beside you, bouncing the sofa slightly. "I mean, I'm always happy to have you come over, but the only time you came here was to bring me drunk from a bender. And to get me flowers."

"Get you a sunflower, because yours had died." You corrected.

"Precisely, a sunflower." Higuruma replied, taking a sip from his beer. "So, to what do I owe the pleasure?"

"I just wanted to see you." You said, earnestly. And deep down, it was true, if only half of it.

Higuruma immediately seemed content, even if he only had a small smile to show for it on his face. "Oh."

You were both silent for a moment.

"I never got to repay you for your kindness that day." He said, out of the blue, taking you by surprise.

"It was nothing." You said, shrugging. "I just got you home and gave you a flower."

"Oh, if I remember correctly…" He began.

"Do you remember anything?" You asked, mockingly.

He looked at you, slightly grinning, and continued. "You had to blow up my lock to bust us in. In some places, that would be considered a felony."

"You're saying I could get arrested for busting into a home while I'm with the man that lives there?"

"You also used explosives and damaged the door, let's not forget that." Higuruma said in a mix of playful and matter-of-factly.

"I couldn't ask, because you were completely wasted! Just getting your address was a pain in the ass."

He chuckled. "Was it?"

"Yes, it was." You replied, more relaxed, thanks to coming back to your old banter. This came for the both of you so naturally that you barely realized Higuruma had rested his arm on the sofa right behind you, leaning closer. "Higuruma, why did you drink so much that night?"

That question surprised him, as you could deduct from his eyes widening lightly. He put his beer can on the coffee table and ran his fingers through his hair, inhaling deeply. "I don't know. I guess-" he stuttered for a moment. "I guess I was just nervous to be out again, finally and properly going for a drink with..." his last word lingered on the air, as he unconsciously looked at your eyes, and then your lips, "with you all."

"Do you remember what you said when we got here?" You asked, shamelessly staring at his lips too.

"I believe I said, 'you are too kind'." Higuruma leaned over even further, and you felt his entire body go rigid for a second as you drifted closer to him, heat crawling all over your skin, putting your forehead to his. After some seconds, he rested the palm of his hand over your knee, and from how needy you felt for that man at that particular moment, even such a small thing was enough to make you trip over to the other side.

You immediately crushed your lips to his, putting your hands behind his head. You kissed him eagerly, letting out an extremely faint moan as you drove your fingers over his hair — he tasted like beer, his worn off cologne from the day was completely intoxicating, and you found yourself nearly lunging at the man like a starved animal. Realizing what just happened, you pulled back, starting to apologize, eyes wide and face completely flustered. "Higuruma, I'm so sor-"

Your apologies were cut short with his own lips now clashing into yours in a passionate kiss, as he pushed you under his weight to lay on the couch, his fingers interlocking in your hair strands from the back of your head. His hips effortlessly slid in between your legs as your hands made their way to brush his shoulders, and you let out another moan against his lips, this time much louder, thanks to the dry pressure of his now bulging pants against your clothed core. Higuruma groaned satisfied in response, tracing the outline of your mouth with the tip of his tongue. Your mind was becoming hazy, and he parted from your lips for a moment to gaze at your face. His eyes were locked on you, studying every feature and investigating for any sign of discomfort or second thoughts.

You caught up on that and made your way inside his slightly open mouth with your own tongue, intertwining it with his in between gasps and huffs. Now you separated just enough to breathlessly say, "Bed. Now."

You gasped against his mouth, before holding yourself throwing your arms behind his neck and locking your legs on his waist, grinding on him. He moaned loudly at this stimulation, before smiling sheepishly and putting both of his hands on the back of your thighs for support, knowing full well you meant for him to carry the both of you into the bedroom.

"Yes, ma'am." He replied, propping the both up and then lifting from the couch. Higuruma pressed open-mouthed kisses all around the nape of your neck, as he walked towards a dark room, parting his hands from you just to switch the light on. "I want to see you," he said, breathing heavily against your skin, as he threw you on the bed, climbing on top, one hand to each side of your head as he stared at you with a lustful look in his eyes. You instantly pulled his loosened tie to kiss him again, and he lost balance, basically falling with his body over yours. You whimpered at the feeling of having his now full-blown clothed erection grinding against your core, and involuntarily opened your legs to accommodate his hips over yours.

Higuruma started to take off his tie and shirt, and you followed suit, removing your top and bra. He basked on the sight of you, and cupped both of your breasts in his hands. His digits felt rough, and frictioned just the right amount against you, as he squeezed both of them, satisfied and reverent. His hands started traveling down your figure, contouring every curve, hill, and valley of your body, reaching the edge of your pants. "May I?" He asked, his face lightly blushed as he awaited your response. You nodded, and he promptly unzipped you, pulling your pants and panties down, the slight stimulation from the fabric sliding over your legs being enough to make you mewl with satisfaction. Every nerve in you was incandescent with absolute hunger for him.

You opened your legs, and he could see you were already completely wet from arousal. Letting out an audible satisfied moan, Higuruma began tracing your belly with his mouth, planting long kisses as he went down, leaving a trail of heat wherever his lips touched. As he got near your core, he kissed one last time one of your thighs, and sniffed on your folds. You smelled sinfully sweet, and he made no effort to hold back his eyes fluttering shut with pure bliss. "Could I, please?"

This was his prayer, the bed was his altar and he was determined to worship you.

Without a word, you simply grabbed the top of his hair and drove his mouth in between your legs, whimpering and mewling as his tongue started to rub against your clit. His chin would grind forward on your entrance whenever he changed the angle, and you involuntarily pushed yourself down when that happened. He noticed it, and slid his tongue inside you, eliciting a loud moan in response, with your walls clenching around it. He groaned back in appreciation, and his husky, low voice reverberated throughout your entire being. You arched your back, beginning to feel that familiar heat and fire pooling on your lower stomach.

"H-Higuruma... I-" You sighed, in between mewls and moans.

He immediately stopped and brought his face up to look at you. You let out a complaint sound, glaring at him to ask why he stopped.

"My dear, I'm literally with my face in between your legs, eating you out." He said, unfazed by your annoyance. "We're way past last names. Call me Hiromi."

Incredulous, you let out a mixture of a chuckle and a scoff, having the top inside of you wiggling its way out to the surface. You grabbed his hair strongly, and he cinched his eyebrows, cock twitching inside his pants, as the corner of his lips formed an open-mouthed smile. His eyes were softly resting on you, and he wouldn't mind if your naked, flushed body was the last thing he saw before he died.

"Shut up." You said, grinding your pussy against his mouth, and locking his head to your core with your legs tightly holding around him. Higuruma proceeded more eager than before, lapping at your clit relentlessly with his tongue, alternating with sucks that were having you seeing stars. He was absolutely pussy drunk with the heavenly taste of you and had, at this moment, relinquished any control, as he let you face fuck him chasing your release.

The heat came back again, and you closed your eyes, sinking the back of your head on a pillow. Waves were starting to form, and your orgasm hit you like the crashing water against the shore. You began to tremble and vibrate, coming hard in his mouth, and Higuruma feverishly drank you up, completely hypnotized with how amazing you tasted and felt, falling apart under his ministrations.

Letting you finish riding your high, licking gently on your overstimulated core, he waited until you were barely moving before removing his own pants and climbing his way back on top of you. As he got close enough to your face, you looked at him, completely flustered and debauched, resting the palm of your hand on his cheek. "Higuruma, I want you inside of me." His tongue, albeit magnificent, just wasn't enough, and you could feel the same anticipation and neediness coiling in your stomach again, as the tip of his cock rested on your entrance.

He looked at you and grunted, displeased. "Hiromi." Higuruma reached to the bedside table and pulled a condom. The movement had him rubbing his throbbing length, already leaking with pre-cum, right against you, forcing him to let out a strained groan.

You gasped at the sensation and chuckled at his annoyance right after, suddenly locking his hips in between your legs, rolling you both so that you would be on top of him. "We'll see, if you ask nicely." You replied, locking him in between your arms, hovering. Higuruma's eyes instantly softened, and his cheeks took a pinkish-red tint. "You're bossy." He said, turning his head towards your wrist and planting a chaste kiss on it, lingering with his lips for a moment on your skin. "I like it."

You smiled, more pleased than you'd like to admit it, because the both of you fit so well it was astonishing. You never thought it would be happening like this, and for a moment, it felt so right you wished you could be here forever. But nothing that good ever lasts long enough.

Grabbing the condom from him with one hand, you motioned the other to grab his neglected cock. As your fingers grasped around his length, Higuruma let out a satisfied and urgent moan, slowly arching himself under your touch. The sight of him completely pliable to your will had you fluttering, as you began to rub your hands up and down, pumping his girth to pleasure him. Higuruma plastered his palms over the plush of your thighs, and groaned your last name, holding out on some kind of desperation.

"'Way past last names', huh?" You scoffed, playfully, starting to slide the condom over his cock before he could hit you with any witty comeback. After, you positioned yourself above him, holding his length against your entrance, and started to slowly descend over it, feeling it thrust in you to the brim, stretching your walls as he bottomed out. You both let out a gasp, now connected, and you waited a moment to adapt and take all of him in.

"Come here." You said, pulling on his shoulder for him to sit up, so that you could feel and touch every inch of him. He obliged, and sat up, immediately driving his mouth to kiss your neck insistently, brushing the tip of his tongue on the edge of your jaw. Higuruma began to rock his hips, and you did the same, each in the opposite direction, so that his cock would slide in and out of your pussy easily.

You moaned against his scalp, and he held his hands to the small of your waist, leaning you backwards to suck on your breasts. The moment his mouth latched onto one breast, he rolled your other nipple between his fingers, eliciting loud moans and mewls from you. You had your head dangling back, as he began to thrust into you quicker and harder. He slid the hand previously on your waist to the back of your neck, and pulled you in for a kiss, taunting your mouth with his tongue. You opened it, and both your tongues intertwined, as he, now, chased his own release, panting and groaning into your lips. You weren't so far off, feeling the familiar coil tightening in your abdomen, yearning for release.

"Higu-"

"Hiromi, please. P-please... Please..." He implored and begged, kissing desperately your jawline. You lowered your gaze and met his eyes softer and more tender than you had ever seen, so urgently pleading for you to let him in, give him this inch of intimacy, and that was the moment you caved. You pressed your forehead against his, and started to cry out his name. "Hiromi... H-Hiromi..."

Letting out moans and groans in between the squelching from your juices, he pulled you impossibly close, eyes piercing and locked onto yours. This was the moment you felt more naked, bare and vulnerable the entire night, and the coil that had formed in your belly snapped, sending waves of pure pleasure from the tip of your head to your toes. Feeling your gummy walls clenching all around him, Higuruma also hit his orgasm intensely, thrusting into you fervently to ride off his high. He stopped slowly, ready to crumble underneath you at any moment.

"Hiromi-" You said, brushing your lips against his cheek, then under his ear. "Hiromi, Hiromi, Hi-ro-mi. Happy? Just for tonight, though."

Higuruma chuckled soulfully, realizing how much he absolutely loved the sound of his name on your tongue, purred through your whispered voice, reverberating on his flushed, sensitive skin. It made his body quiver and tremble with pure satisfaction.

It was right there, at that moment, with his heart fluttering while you leaned back to gaze at him, stroking his hair strands between your fingers with a gentle smile, that he realized just how fucked he actually was.

Sighing softly and smiling back, Higuruma pushed his lips against yours. He knew that by playing with fire, he was bound to get burned, eventually — and burned he was.

#jujutsu kaisen higuruma #higuruma x reader #jjk higuruma #jjk hiromi #hiromi x reader #higuruma hiromi #jjk imagines #jjk drabbles #jjk x you #higuruma smut #hiromi smut #jjk smut

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qcoded · 5 months

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Remembered that post I made where I was saying I wanted to make a Priest Belos and Demon Collector AU.... Caved in and made references for them, lol.

Anyways!! I named the AU: Church of The Stars. Basic gist, Belos/Philip was a priest back in the 1600. He moved to Gravesfield with Caleb, and instead of opting to be a witchunter, he much preferred go be a priest for the church. Everything was going fine and dandy until Belos discovered his brother was dating a witch, and even had a secret baby with her.

In a fit of rage and betrayal, he went crazy and stabbed both of them to death. After they died, Belos began to panic because like..... y'know. He murdered his brother. All of a sudden, a shadowy, demon-like being appeared. They almost seemed to mock the man, taunting him for doing something so heinous.

Through a pure streak of luck for the demon, they manipulated Belos into making a deal with him so he could stay alive. Surely, the church would execute him if they found out he was associating with a witch! As so, Belos manages to successfully escape any consequences, and ran away with the now freed demon who called themselves 'Algol'.

Now in the present day, Belos runs the local church. Of course, no one knows about the fact he has a whole demon with him, but he attempts to still be a man of god.

#the owl house #toh #the collector #emperor belos #philip wittebane #collector toh #belos toh #philip toh #toh fanart #fanart #au #toh au #alternate universe #church of the stars au #q art

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arrowsperpetualcringe · 1 year

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https://www.tumblr.com/arrowsperpetualcringe/716483661130874880/hehehehehe Hoe does Mario meet Knight!Luigi?

Hi hey hello omg someone's actually asking about this au---

I'm panicking for no reason but also I'm so excited and so happy to share!!!

So, tbh, there's no need for Knight!Luigi and Mario to "meet", and by that I mean--- Luigi and Mario were never seperated and they already know eachother.

Luigi's whole deal, and the reason he was able to become a knight in the first place, is that he kinda... just sorta moved out.

Let me explain: He in this au, Luigi of course loves Mario dearly, that's his twin brother, his main man, his bestfriend, his homeslice breadslice dog. However, after retrieving some subpar treatment, he decided to seperate from Mario, and go his own little journey of self discovery. He's never been apart from Mario. And though he's scared, he's terrified even, he wants to know who he's capable of being on his own. So he leaves to go journey, Mario of course wishes him good luck, but is SO fucking nervous something bad will happen to him and encourages him to write him.

(More Backstory under cut cause this post is looooong)

Most of his journey is fine, and well and good, until he gets dundundunnn caught by Bowser. (For the purposes of this au, let's imagine that Kamek freed and unshrunken him post Mario Movie)--- So, he catches Luigi to get revenge, but at this point he's developed a bit more of a backbone and some serious skills to defend himself, so he almost escapes the castle, but is stopped by Bowser himself, who--- in a twist of fate is impressed by his skill.

Basically the interaction that follows goes "Ayo I'll let you live if you work for me" "I'm still very terrified of you so bet" (ofc he's plotting to return the whole while, but needs to find a time when it's safe)

So now mans lives in the castle with Bowser, and he gets training to really hone his skills--- they gradually get used to eachother, and since this is a Bowuigi centric au, yall already know the deal fr.

SORRY I got SO incredibly sidetracked, but since I already wrote all this I ain't deleting it--- to get to the core of the question---

If Mario were to ever meet Luigi in his knight formmmm hmmm.

If he were to meet while Luigi was doing some on duty shit with Bowser watching, he'd have to resort to going completely nonverbal to avoid being recognized--- in my very first post about Knight!Luigi he can avoid being recognized as his usual self by switching from an italian accent to a brooklyn one, but--- seeing as Mario knows his brother, and knows his voice, he'd recognize either one. This would probably give off an impression of a really intimidating, serious and skilled Knight to the opposition, when really Weggy just tryna to avoid being recognized---

If they just happened to cross paths with no eyes on them, Luigi would shed the mask SO fucking quick and give him a hug. Though, since Luigi has risen through the ranks and became very known as someone to be feared in his persona, this would leave Mario both very relieved, and VERY confused.

and uuuuh

yeah that's it.

OH wait

One more thing.

In this au, Luigi's Knight persona is just known as "Knight Guy"

everyone assumes he's a really weird shy guy and no one bats a fucking eye FOEJROFEJROJ

TL;DR: They'd most likely meet in a battlefield. If on duty, they just sorta,,, duke it out (Luigi will refuse to hurt Mario though) If off duty, hug time.

#ask #super mario bros #smb #mario bros #mario movie #smb au #bowuigi #<- mentioned #luigi #mario #bowser #shyguy luigi #shy guy #Knight!Luigi #my art #digital art

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wolken-himmel · 2 years

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In which (Y/n) punishes Floyd with the silent treatment for squeezing Grim a little bit too hard.

Floyd won't let that sit with him.

Request by anon.

"Shrimpy, say something! I'm giving up on you..."

Floyd was quick on his feet, keeping up your impossible pace without even breaking a sweat, a feat probably attributed to his extremely long legs. While this chase was just another afternoon stroll to him, you were beginning to tire, your lungs constricting painfully and your feet aching.

You were left no other choice than to slow down and watch helplessly as he caught up to you, his hand eventually landing on your shoulder and squeezing it tightly. "Hey, where are you going? We aren't done yet!" he cried out, his voice going up and down in a childish way. You would have found it adorable if it weren't for the anger inside of you.

Even when his grip on your shoulder tightened to the point where you couldn't walk on anymore, you squeezed your eyes shut and continued anyway. That made the whiplash you experienced when he actively pulled you back to face him worse.

"Shrimpy? Shrimpy!" Floyd called out and furrowed his eyebrows at you. His eyes were as bright and innocent as that of a puppy, and you would have probably fallen for it if it weren't for the way you awkwardly averted your gaze. "I don't get why you don't wanna talk to me... You're missing out on so much fun! There's this one really funny story I wanted to tell you." His voice grew quiet, now genuinely disheartened.

A little sigh escaped his lips and his smile slipped off his face when you freed yourself from his grip in a moment of weakness.

You quickened your pace, basically sprinting down the hallway. Behind you, his nimble foot steps echoed through the corridor and reached your ears. The whole scenario felt like a horror movie to you, and you hated every single second of it.

Sadly for you, he caught up easily again.

This time, he grabbed your upper arm and whirled you around to push you against the row of lockers on the wall. The world became wonky as you tried to stop the way your vision spun wildly.

"Come on~!" he cried out and put one hand beside your head to lean on it. "You're even quieter than those rocks at the bottom of the ocean..." His eyes furrowed in concern, he brought his face closer to yours, as if it check for something wrong. Again, you avoided his gaze as if it burnt you. An exasperated sigh escaped his pursed lips. "Fine, I'll just squeeze a sound out of you, if that's what you want..."

Without a warning, he grabbed you by your waist and heaved you over his shoulder. It was as if you weighed nothing more than a feather with how effortlessly he carried you away. Even your fists banging against his back wouldn't make him stop.

"Let me down!" you yelled once you couldn't hold it in anymore.

A satisfied grin appeared on his face when your frenzied voice reached his ears. "Hah, got you to talk again..." he cooed teasingly while placing you to the floor again, laughing as if nothing had ever happened.

However, his laughter soon stopped when he noticed the serious scowl on your face.

"Don't you understand that I'm angry with you?"

"Wait..." He tilted his head to the side. "What are you angry for?"

His question caused you to grow even angrier, and it all reached its climax when you screamed, "For almost killing Grim yesterday!" Your chest rising up and down unevenly, your hands were clenched into tight fists.

Unaffected by your sudden outbreak, Floyd looked at you in confusion. "But I squeeze people all the time, I know how to do it in a non-lethal way!" he exclaimed, still not getting your point. "I am a certified expert, one might say."

You narrowed your eyes at him, and it was the first time today that you looked him straight in the eyes. "I don't joke around when someone hurts my friends..." As if all energy had left your body, your shoulders sank forward and you gaze drifted to the floor. "Look, Floyd. You're really funny, and I like hanging out with you... but it just doesn't sit right with me that you almost killed Grim. Maybe we just need some time apart."

"No! I can change. I'll be a completely different eel tomorrow!"

"You're lying."

At your remark, he broke out into unstoppable laughter, even going as far as wiping a tear from his left eye. "Of course I am merely jesting... Hehe, you saw right through me, you smart Shrimpy!" His smile grew smaller when he noticed that you weren't laughing along. Then, much to your surprise, his eyes became serious. "But... I guess I could squeeze your friends a little bit less if you want me to... Your friends are too squishy to have fun with, anyway."

You raised an eyebrow suspiciously. "You, Floyd Leech, are ready to compromise?"

"Hey, I'm not a barbarian," he exclaimed, offended, "I'll have you know!"

After having looked him up and down a dozen of times, you crossed your arms and shot him a sceptical look. "Well, how do I know you say the truth," you muttered under your breath.

He shrugged. "If you want me to, I'll swear on Jade."

Your eyes almost popped out of their sockets at his answer. The reaction he got from you caused him to snicker to himself, satisfied and amused at the same time. Realising that he was laughing at your open mouth, you rolled your eyes and merely whispered, "...you're a peculiar eel, Floyd..." But, you couldn't suppress a smile from forming.

That was when he pulled you into a tight embrace. "I know, and that's why you like me, Shrimpy!"

#twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #twst #twst x reader #disney twst #disney twisted wonderland #reader insert #y/n #floyd leech #floyd leech x reader #twst floyd #twst floyd leech #twst floyd x reader #twisted wonderland floyd #gender neutral reader

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7-wonders · 1 year

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Kiss With a Fist

Morpheus/Dream of the Endless x Reader

Summary: Normally, Dream is above mortals and their petty quarrels, but when one decides that he wants to play with fire, Dream is more than prepared to burn him. That is, until you have something to say about it.

Word Count: 4.1k

Notes: I've wanted to write something about you pulling a Hob Gadling and fighting off someone wanting to attack Dream for a while now. Here it is. Basically you're a badass and you fight a drunk guy trying to pick a fight with Dream. Let me know your thoughts!

(Reader is referred to with she/her pronouns)

We begin…in the Waking World, which is not, in his opinion, an ideal place to be.

Though the Burgess lineage has been snuffed out and Dream of the Endless is far too powerful to ever find himself captured by a mortal again, he still feels a touch of trepidation upon his trips outside of his realm. How could he not, after one such visit went so spectacularly wrong and ended up with him trapped for over a century?

Having reminders of the good of humanity certainly helps ease his apprehension, which is why he typically finds himself with some sort of companion when he leaves the safety of the Dreaming. Most of the time, Matthew is a mere stone’s throw away at all times. If not Matthew, then Dream has increasingly found himself seeking the company of his friend, Hob Gadling.

You’re the most “human” of them all; though both Matthew and Hob were, at one point, completely and utterly mortal, that is no longer the case. You, however, are. He would argue that’s perhaps what makes you so fascinating, but he knows that’s not entirely true. There are a great many things that make you fascinating to him, and your mortality is probably the least of those.

It’s his predilection towards you that has landed him here in the first place, at what you called an “upscale bar” for a friend’s birthday party. To be fair to you, it’s not as if you hadn’t given Dream multiple opportunities to decline your invitation. You even bluntly told him, among other things, that it was almost certain he would not enjoy himself at a mortal event such as this and you were perfectly fine going by yourself.

But no, he had to insist that he would play the role of doting “boyfriend” (which he was, though he preferred terms to describe your relationship that sounded much less juvenile) and accompany you to this celebration. After two grueling hours, he can honestly say that he does not understand why anybody would torture themselves by willingly stepping foot into such an establishment. Between the bone-shaking bass of the music that is unnecessarily loud, the patrons whose wildly inappropriate, alcohol-steeped daydreams stick to Dream like molasses, and the harsh lighting that continues to change depending on the beat of whatever garish song is playing, he’s seen enough to last him five human lifetimes.

He tries to hide his disdain, knowing that you’re enjoying yourself and your night. ‘Tries’ being the key word here: after the fifth person who visibly jumps in fear when they see Dream’s piercing glower, it’s evident that this attempt is not working in the slightest. Whether you’ve finally noticed this or you just decide to take pity on him, he’s not sure.

Regardless, you lean into him and ask, “Are you doing okay?”

“I would like to get some air,” he says, being heard clearly by you despite not having to raise his voice above the music. He’s relieved when you nod; Dream was never a particularly social creature, but that desire for solace increased tenfold after he freed himself from his glass cage.

“We can head out, actually. I’ve socialized long enough.”

Dream could actually cheer at this. Since it would be entirely uncouth of him to do so, he continues to look nonchalant. “Do not feel that you need to end your night early on my account.”

“I’m not! I’m tired and I’d rather go home with you now. I’m gonna close my tab, if you wanna go wait outside for me!”

He very much wants to go wait outside for you, and with one last squeeze of your hand, he separates from you and leaves you to finish paying for your drinks.

There’s something inherently calming to Dream about the evening hours. It may be that the world seems to become more peaceful after the sun sets, or that the majority of dreamers enter his realm at this time. It could even be the fact that this is Mother Night’s domain, complicated as their relationship may be. Whatever the reason, Dream is particularly fond of this time of day, and he enjoys the sudden tranquility after such a hectic environment.

Unfortunately, said tranquility lasts only momentarily before a shadow crosses over towards Dream and he meets the bloodshot eyes of a mortal man. He’s average in every way, from the backwards cap to the scuffed shoes stained with unidentified liquids. A ‘frat boy,’ you would call him. Though the shadows warp behind him as he attempts to scare him off as he did to the others inside the bar, this man remains uncowed by his expression.

“Hey, I saw you earlier at the bar.” Dream scowls, for he did have an encounter with this particular human inside the establishment, and he did not enjoy one second of it. “Yeah, I offered to buy your girl a drink, didn’t I? Then you shoved your way in between us, which was rude. I was just trying to be friendly!”

“Silence, mortal.” He’s had enough of this conversation, if it can even be called that, and glances in the direction of the entrance to see if you’re making your exit. In the process, he sees the man’s expression morph into something ugly, something vengeful. He’s not sure why, considering he has not been insulted; after all, Dream simply called him what he is, which is a mortal.

“The fuck did you just call me?”

Instead of actually bothering with a response, Dream attempts to move away from the wall in order to find you, having had enough of playing this game. The mortal man’s hand lands on his shoulder and stops him from achieving that goal. Dream simply glances at it, deciding that, actually, it has been a good while since he properly frightened a mortal in any realm.

“Why ya tryin’ to leave? I just wanted to have a friendly chat.” The man’s breath reeks of cheap alcohol, and Dream’s lip curls in disgust.

“No, I think not.”

“Hey!” Both heads snap towards the bar’s entrance, where you’re emerging from the door and marching closer towards them. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?”

The mortal man smirks, finding amusement in the fact that you’re now involved. “Get outta here, bitch. This doesn’t concern you.”

Dream has half a mind to incite his nightmares on this boor of a man just for the crude insult (how dare he even think to disrespect the future consort of the Dreaming in such a way), but you’re speaking before he can properly make a decision. “Yeah it does. Leave him alone.”

The man smirks and rolls his eyes, turning his attention back to Dream. “What, you need your girlfriend to fight your battles for you?”

“I’m trying to protect you here,” you say with a laugh, knowing that Dream doesn’t need anyone to do anything for him. “Take your hand off of him and go.”

As you walk past him, you knock your shoulder against the man’s, who goes stumbling back with his arms pinwheeling at his sides as he attempts to keep his balance. Either you’re stronger than you look, or the man is drunker than he lets on; Dream is willing to bet that it’s a combination of both.

“I’m not gonna tell you again, dude.”

Gently, you grab Dream’s hand and pull him away from the wall. He allows you to do so–though he can deny it all he wants, he certainly doesn’t mind when you fuss over him. Sure enough, he watches as you scan him up and down for any sign of injury, seeming to forget that he cannot exactly be injured by a mere mortal.

“Are you okay?”

Were they in private, Dream would laugh (he’s found himself doing a lot more of that lately–laughing) and assure you that nothing so paltry as a mortal attempting to provoke him had caused him any harm or upset. As it is, he simply nods, taking your hand in his and kissing the back of it.

Unfortunately, mortal men seem to love violence. This should not be surprising, considering his brother is—was—Destruction, but it’s something that tends to slip his mind due to how little time he actually spends among them. When they are robbed of the opportunity to inflict said violence on their intended target, they become enraged.

This is no different for this mortal man, whose face turns a surprising shade of red in anger. As Dream turns with you to leave, he allows his natural eyes to appear through the blue ones that he wears when in the Waking. Black pits appear in their place, the stars that are normally there completely snuffed out. Petty, but he cannot resist making the last move.

This works against his favor, however, when the mortal man takes a swing at Dream.

For an immortal, anthropomorphic personification, Dream has not found himself in many fights through his long life. He should rephrase that: he has not found himself in many street fights through his long life. Battles, he’s had his fair share. Glorious battles, either those like the Oldest Game where wit is the weapon or those where he was fighting for a purpose, be it love or honor or his realm.

But battles are skilled; there’s an art to them, an understanding on each side of the formalities and the pomp and circumstance that goes into it all. Though they may be enemies, the foes carry with them a certain integrity that extends to the conflict. In fact, as far as Dream is aware, mortal military campaigns are fought a lot like this as well. Alleyway brawls most certainly do not carry any of this.

Humanity changed, as humanity is wont to do, in the century plus that Dream found himself a prisoner in an English countryside basement. However, the century of imprisonment had to align with one of the centuries that underwent the most societal change. Though Dream very much enjoys watching as humanity evolves, he enjoys watching it as it happens, not learning about it in retrospect. As a result, he has felt woefully behind when it comes to modern standards; a fact which the few mortals or former mortals he knows love to focus on. Not that he wants to sound every bit as old as he is, but before his imprisonment, ladies most certainly did not fight.

All of this is important knowledge to keep in mind for the coming events.

The man’s hit, meant for Dream, connects against your cheek as a result of you shoving Dream out of the way before he can truly process what’s about to happen. He wants to tell you to stop, wants to blow sand in the face of this man and follow through on his silent threat to give him his worst nightmares, but…something stops him. A not-unpleasant warmth in his stomach that begins to bloom as he watches you ball your hands into fists, obviously preparing to fight back against this man.

A few bystanders audibly wince when you punch your adversary’s jaw, making his head snap back. Curses fall from his lips as he swings again, but you manage to grab a fistful of his shirt collar when you duck and his fist hits your forehead. This advantage means that this will be the last hit he gets on you.

With a yank of the fabric, the shirt goes up over his head and serves both to blind him as well as to make it difficult for him to move away from you. He’s more focused on attempting to free himself from your hold than he is hitting you again, and when he finally does regain his sight, he sees your fist hurtling towards his face.

The last punch is a direct hit to the mortal’s nose, blood immediately beginning to drip down his face and onto the ground. Both the pain and the shock of it send him falling backwards onto the ground, where he groans pathetically and clutches at his wounded face. From above, you breathe heavily and shake out your dominant hand, a look of disgust on your face as you stare down at the enemy you’ve taken down with ease.

In all, the actual fight lasts less than half a minute. Dream, however, believes that he shall think of said fight for the rest of his eternal fight.

“Bitch,” the mortal spits out again, the insult the only weapon he has left in his arsenal.

“Don’t forget it, either.” You grab Dream’s hand again, this time pulling him away from the small crowd that’s beginning to form on the sidewalk. “C’mon, we gotta get outta here before someone calls the cops.”

Dream demeans himself and actually runs alongside you, but only until there are no more humans in sight. He pulls you to a stop then, taking his sand out of his coat and tossing a handful in the air. Between one blink and the next, he’s safely inside your Waking apartment with you. Shaking your head a couple of times to clear the double vision in your eyes, you finally look over at him.

“I’m so sorry, I really didn’t think you’d get stuck dealing with some drunk idiot who–oof!”

Dream cuts off your rambling by shoving you against the wall of your bedroom and proceeding to kiss you as though it’s been years since he last laid his lips against yours. You stiffen under him for a moment before your body goes lax, hands curling around the lapels of his coat as you lean into him and attempt to eliminate any modicum of space between your bodies. It’s only when he can hear you beginning to try and take desperate little pants in an attempt to get air into your lungs that he pulls his lips from you, though this doesn’t last for long.

“Do you have any idea,” he pauses to press another series of heated kisses to you, “what seeing you fight that man did to me?”

“...I’m confused. Are you mad?”

“Mad?” Dream scoffs. “How could I be mad, when you defended my honor in such a way. Me, who could have sent the mortal to the Nightmare Realm with barely a glance. I am more powerful than the gods themselves, yet you fought for me without so much as a second thought. No, I am not mad at you. I find myself rather infatuated with you at this moment, in fact.”

“As if you’re not infatuated with me all the time?” He silences your snark with more kissing, which you gladly accept for another few moments.

“Dream,” you finally mumble against his lips.

When he doesn’t answer, you try again.

“Morpheus.”

He still doesn’t answer, nor does he make any movement to let you know he even heard you. Finally, you push at his chest to get his attention.

“While I’d love to continue doing this, my lip is split and it really hurts to kiss you right now.”

Dream steps away from you sheepishly. It’s not often that his control falters in such a way, and it only ever does so when he’s in your presence.

“I apologize,” he says remorsefully. If there’s one thing that Dream hates, it’s causing pain to those dearest to him, of which you are the most dear.

“You don’t have to apologize for anything, you couldn’t have known it hurts. I should probably clean myself up, though.” He follows you into your bathroom, where you turn on the faucet and grab a clean cloth off of the towel rack.

“Allow me to help you with your wounds?” Dream asks.

Healing others is not one of his many powers, and you know that. Still, he wants to be of assistance, and so you point to the closet in the corner. “There’s a first aid kit on the bottom shelf of the closet, if you wouldn’t mind grabbing that?”

Dream hasn’t the faintest idea what a first aid kit actually is, but since he’s trying to be helpful, he simply goes off in the direction that you pointed him towards. When he comes back with the bright red bag (he knows enough from dreams to know that the white cross on the front means medical aid), you’re dabbing blood off of the back of your hand with a damp cloth.

“I did not realize that your hand was injured, as well,” Dream says.

“What can I say? Fucker had a hard head.”

He frowns. “I really wish that you would not use such crass language. It’s very unbecoming.”

“You love it and you know you do.”

Dream’s hands skim over the different medical supplies, unsure of what will help or hurt, or even what each item’s intended use is. This confusion must be rather obvious, for you simply have him hold the kit open as you grab whatever is needed and set it out on the counter next to you. He watches, silently and with utter fascination, while you grab a small cotton round and dab some sort of antibiotic on it before you begin to carefully apply it to your knuckles.

He takes this time to actually catalog the injuries you had sustained while fighting for him. In addition to the webbing of surface-level cuts on your knuckles, two wide bruises are already beginning to discolor your skin, one stretching along your cheekbone and the skin below your right eye and the other on your forehead up into your hairline. The ‘split lip’ as you called it, does look rather painful, and he feels bad to have exacerbated that pain. The skin is quite literally split down both your upper and lower lip, dark red blood pooling on the surface. It’s swollen, and another bruise forms on top of the swelling.

Again, Dream feels his heart, which does not work like that of a human’s, clench painfully. You’ve bled to protect him, injured yourself just to keep him safe. He does not know how he could ever repay you for such a kindness, though you’ll assuredly attempt to convince him that you don’t need any sort of repayment.

For Dream, this repayment starts by being the one to take care of you. Now that he’s watched you care for one wound, he can easily mimic your movements as he takes the washcloth you’re running under the tap water and gently presses it to your lip. You wince under his touch, but allow his hand to remain there.

“Where did you learn to fight in such a way?” Dream asks after you’ve nodded that enough time has passed for him to remove the cloth from your mouth.

You shrug. “I was bullied in middle school and it started to get kind of physical–nothing too bad, just mean girls shoving me around or stepping on my heels so that I’d trip and fall.” It sounds far worse than ‘nothing too bad,’ and Dream almost wants to ask you for the names of your childhood tormentors so that he may give them a taste of their own medicine. “Still, my dad wanted to teach me to defend myself, just in case it got any worse.”

“He taught a child to fight?” Dream scoffs in disbelief, one hand gently holding your chin in place while he uses the other to apply the antibiotic to your lips.

“I was twelve, first of all, and it’s not like he was encouraging me to go up to these girls and knock them out. It was a last-resort sort of thing,” you say when he’s finished tending to that cut.

His hand gently skims along the bruise on your cheek, and you can’t stop your reflexes as your hand darts out to grab at his wrist and stop him. He aborts what he was doing, instead grasping your own hand and pulling you to him as he just barely lays his lips on top of the bruise and lets them linger there. He can hear your breath catch in your lungs as he does so, and it makes him smirk just slightly.

When Dream finally pulls away, your body unconsciously tries to follow him as you mourn the loss of his closeness. He asks, “Might I continue to attend to you, my protector? My warrior?”

“Uh, um,” you stutter, trying desperately to remember how to speak. Dream finds it incredibly endearing. “The, uh, I have ice packs in the–in the freezer. For my face? They’re blue, and they should be stacked on top of each other.”

“Go lay down so that you may rest,” he commands. “I shall be back momentarily.”

You describe items well enough that finding whatever it is you request is an easy task, the ice packs being no different. Perhaps Hob Gadling was right to marvel over human inventions at most of the pair’s early meetings. There is something rather fascinating about the resourcefulness of creating something that can be kept cold specifically to help with injuries.

When Dream returns to you, you’ve done as he asked as are laying against the pillows of your bed to rest. He’s unsure of how you apply said ice packs, and hands them to you instead and watches as you lay one on each bruise. Though you recoil from the cold at first, you soon sigh and relax under it.

“Will you lay with me?” you ask.

Dream is not one to turn you down for most things, and he especially will not deny you of this request. He wraps himself around you, black coat billowing out and covering both of you. He knows that it’s only your face that has sustained the brunt of your injuries, but he still tries to be cautious with you just in case.

It’s not exactly resting when you’re on your phone watching the videos that, while they make no sense to Dream, make you laugh, but you’re safe and in his arms, so he won’t say anything to you about the importance of proper rest. Instead, he allows himself to simply think. About you, about him, about this night.

“You need not have come to my defense,” he says suddenly upon remembering what it is he had wanted to say to you earlier, before he was overcome with the need to kiss you. Distantly, he’s reminded of the last time he said such a phrase, and his lips tilt up at the memory.

“Hmm?” You don’t quite know what he means, his statement coming from out of nowhere.

“I was in no danger, yet you so valiantly defended me from the mortal. Why?”

“Because he was going to hurt you.” You say it as if it’s the most obvious conclusion in the world. The sky is blue, water is wet, you fought the man because he was going to hurt Dream.

“He would not have gotten the chance.”

You sigh. “I know that you’re all-powerful and whatnot, but…when you love someone, sometimes that doesn’t matter. Someone was attempting to attack you, and so I decided that I wasn’t going to let them. You’d do the same for me, wouldn’t you?”

“I very much would. However, it’s a little different for me than it is for you.”

“Why? Because I’m a woman?”

He begins to uncharacteristically stammer in an attempt to explain himself. “No, that’s not–I would never–you–”

You cut him off with a laugh before he can make an even bigger fool of himself. “I’m just teasing you.”

“You are cruel to your monarch, my love.”

“Not my monarch, I’m afraid,” you say cheekily, a smile on your face. “Last I checked, I’m not one of your subjects.”

It will never cease to amaze Dream just how at peace he feels when in your presence. On the rare occasion that conversations start out serious, they devolve into something quaint and full of soft touches and teasing jokes at your hands. Even after he sees you into the Dreaming and has returned the now-melting ice packs to your freezer, he feels this way.

Suddenly, he’s struck with the ‘why’ of it all. He feels at home here. No, he feels at home with you. Being with you is like coming home after a long journey and getting to sleep in your bed again for the first time in months. You’re his comfort, his safe place.

Perhaps, in some cases, the Waking World is an ideal place to be.

#dream of the endless #dream of the endless x reader #dream of the endless imagine #morpheus #morpheus imagine #morpheus x reader #the sandman #the sandman imagine

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snackugaki · 7 months

Text

... my ass actually got like 6+ images deep before realizing i hadn't posted shit-- oops

my tmnt iteration (where everyone made it past their 20s, splinter’s alive just old, venus is here, and they deserve some goddamn respite and shenanigans)

tmnt iteration omake 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11

lny visit 1 | 2

IDW spoilers below, teeechnically Mirage & Next Mutation spoilers too ig?

blah blah blabbering because that's one of the many things you can do on tumblr.com

bloopity bloopin, turtles all being traded on the black market as pets, medicine, or decor to be... "prepared". 'cept Jennika, keeping her IDW origin because it's badass and I like it. eco vigilantes freed them one fateful night, same night someone(s) stole some mutagen for a rival company to TGRI, boom collided in their getaway routes, away floated Venus just like in NM and some others who lalala may or may not be some mutanimals

playing mostly with coloring, Rise introducing markings is such a nice and refreshing change from the all sam green turtle, different bandana color turtles I grew up with. fanon taking that concept and applying it in conjunction with actual turtle colorings also scratches my visdev brain node just so

hm... still fiddling with their plastrons... Venus' and Jennika's are fine though

Leo

funky li'l ringed map turtle

can't see it but, he got them little ridgey-spikies on his shell

christ, I'm finding a way to attach Iris symbolism to him, either through markings or something else

Iris in hanakotoba is... basically all Leo; nobility, bravery, honor, courage, heavy samurai association

5'2"

Raph

McCord's or Amboina box turtle idk idk idk can't choose

stuck on coloring him with a scale mail feeling to match the box turtle photos I found

....I needa draw him beefier, he can stand to be beefier

5'6"

Donnie

literally just googled which turtles exhibit the highest INT, wood turle consistently listed plus some have funky geometrically patterned/shaped shells

tossing on how do the plastron coloring, really liking the dark spots on it

probably keep the lightened belly/inner limb coloring

...probably... lol idk

5'8"

Mikey

my perfect chonky boy, no notes except he (and his brothers) need plastron do-overs

and now i am stuck with the heart-on-his-sleeve marking

canon 2 my iteration it is done

he gets to be the slider this go round, if just 'cuz he's technically the first born (in terms of creating TMNT and its story and world)

let him have the fluttering, finger drumming on everything and everyone because he's bursting with "i love you" energy anyway

5'4"

Venus

"my pretty daughter" iykyk

sea turtle as per last couple iteration posts

cultivator instead of "shinobi"

"i aM ShiNObi"... guh, just, I dunno, the term "cultivator" wasn't really known back in '98 like that, but she had the medicine box, she worked to learn how to throw a fireball at Vam Mi, she was pleased at her progression when she defeated the counterspell from the staff of Bu Ki. that's cultivator shit right there.

she's still a pugilist more than a iron fan user

looks up to April like a big sister, speaks canto and hakka with her

cuz she's still a linguist scholar like in Next Mutation so duh she speak all the languages (to an extant, she has a lot of studying left to go after all)

the greenified hawksbill coloring is growing on me...

still needa futz more with the plum flower motif on her

also figure out her huadian situation or just scrap it idkidkidk

her bandana + 50% green coloring is also growing on me....

5'10"

Jennika

technically also ringed map turtle since it was Leo who gave her the blood transfusion

I like the idea of bringing her Blaschko's lines to the forefront post-mutation but just... it's a lot of stripes. and goddamnit I ain't even gonna go deep into much of anything with the comics I just... can't not world build rip me

6'0"

April

still so tickled at April being closer to the turtles' ages in these new reboots and fascinated how it's played out

...but mine is a clean 44 yo, so. (turtles in late 30s)

Laird originally conceived April as an asian woman in his notes, Eastman drew her as a biracial woman he was dating at the time (April Fisher) and... idk what to tell y'all, people are running around being mixed in this world all the time, Brooklyn got hella Jamaican/Chinese so there you go

can speak canto and hakka

April being a "weirdo" as I've seen mentioned in Rise can stay, I'm picking that, that's a great trait to her character, big fan of Poly Styrene, loved Rachel True in The Craft

where "weirdo" is just she's into alt subculture and being in New York... she got her hands everywhere in those scenes

She and Chu Hsi get to have the most shoujo fuckin' romance because it's cute

and she's still a living drawing which I'm changing around a bit being why she felt like a "weirdo" and leaned towards subcultures and the turtles, she did eventually begin to destabilize but Venus stabilized her by trapping her in a scroll so she could work on a solution. ...where she has a long, happy relationship with Chu Hsi in the painted world scroll because lol time dilation

saw somewhere on the hellsite that the tooth gap is passed around every iteration... so April gets to have it

5'7"

Irma

i'm not ashamed to say I just reupholstered Nadia from Russian Doll

87 Irma went through a lot so she can have some dry wit and humor and be fly as fuck, big hair, big glasses, and a big attitude

still besties with April

likes moths, they're just neat little guys with rabbit ears iykyk

there is a very specifc size of her hair I am battling to keep consistent the problem it never feels big enough

says "fuhgeddaboutit" and has yelled that she is, in fact, "walkin' here,"

... she might also have a little bit of Myrtle from AHS: Coven sprinkled in now that I'm thinking about it to sum her up

she knows somebody who knows somebody who knows somebody for any random thing you could want to try to find

all the delis and bodegas know her

discusses plot lines from soap operas with Splinter on weekends, they get heated

5'5"

... god all this and I was just gonna have them play spades and play a round of pickup street ball in silly little comics

#if you know my timezone #and you see me posting this #stop snitching #what are YOU doing at the devil's sacrament #leave me to my demon hours #i should probably try melatonin though...#cuz this shit ain't working #how am I fuckin' alive???#spite #things tasting good #turtles #general nerd shit #and don't worry king #they still love your boys in the AU-verse #visdev is my enrichment activity #my dumb ass just happily knocking these out and not posting #cuz i was distracted by the euphoria of creation #hhh i needa push my shapes more #they can be crunchier

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ao3-deviance · 7 months

Text

Pet Names

"Hey, Kit Kat, how's it breaking?"

Bakugou looked up from his book, blinking with befuddlement. Kirishima immediately wanted to kiss his nose as Bakugou scrunched it up, and since they were boyfriends, he decided to do just that, leaning over the back of the couch to smooch him. He giggled as he pulled away, seeing Bakugou's eyes cross as he tried to keep looking at Kirishima's face.

"The fuck did you just say?" Bakugou asked, tilting his head, and god, Kirishima loved him.

"What's up, basically," Kirishima explained, leaping over the back of the couch so he could recline and put his head in the blond's lap.

"What did you call me though?" Bakugou said, lip curling with annoyance.

"Kit Kat," Kirishima said, reaching up to soothe the wrinkles in Bakugou's brow with his thumb. "I thought it was cute."

Bakugou rolled his eyes, face finally relaxing again as he looked back at his book. He held the book in one hand, the other freed up so he could comb through Kirishima's hair. The redhead immediately melted under his touch.

"Whatever," Bakugou acknowledged. "'S stupid, but so are you, so."

Kirishima burst into laughter. Even dating hadn't smoothed out all of the blond's prickliness, but he wasn't upset about it.

"Want me to call you something else?" He asked curiously. "Honey? Sweetheart? Darling?"

Bakugou shoved his palm into his face, squeezing his cheeks as Kirishima tried to grin at him. "Fuck off, dumbass!" His face was brilliantly red, and Kirishima loved it.

"Awe, come on, Blasty. Boyfriends should have cute names for each other."

"I let you call me Katsuki."

"Yeah, but so do your parents. I want to be special," he stressed.

Bakugou rolled his eyes. "You are special, you idiot."

Kirishima pouted. "You call everyone an idiot," he argued.

"Hah?" Bakugou set his book down on the table, sending Kirishima a serious look. "You fucking with me right now? Or is this really bothering you?"

Kirishima shrugged, biting his lip unsurely. "Maybe…a little of both?" He hesitantly admitted. "It's fine if you're not comfortable with it, though. Just Katsuki is special enough, cause no one else here gets to call you that." He smiled softly up at the blond.

Bakugou hummed; he had that look in his eyes that meant he was thinking about something serious. He played with Kirishima's hair in the meantime, relaxing the redhead into a light doze as he just soaked in his boyfriend's affection.

"Sunshark."

Kirishima opened his eyes, blinking in confusion. "Sunshark?" He repeated.

"You're my sunshark," Bakugou decided, nodding to himself. He brushed his fingers along the side of Kirishima's face, tracing around his eyes with a gentle touch. "Sun," he said, brushing the spikes of his hair up, before moving to Kirishima's lips which naturally parted under his touch. Bakugou poked at his teeth, "Shark." Then he leaned back, flicking Kirishima's nose lightly and huffing a small laugh to himself as Kirishima rubbed at his nose. His face was quickly heating under Bakugou's soft gaze.

"Okay," he managed to get out without squeaking. "I'm okay with that one."

"Good."

"Canyoubemydandelion?" Kirishima asked quickly.

Bakugou sputtered, surprised, and he sent him an incredulous look. "You're calling me a fucking weed?"

"No, no," Kirishima was quick to assure, laughing at the absurdity. "I meant, your hair looks similar to one, yeah? And dandelions are tough fuckers to beat; they even grow in between concrete!"

Bakugou narrowed his eyes, as if he didn't fully believe Kirishima's reasoning, but he eventually sighed and shrugged. "I guess. Whatever you want." He leaned down to peck Kirishima's forehead. "Boyfriends are supposed to get special treatment or whatever."

Kirishima beamed. "Thanks, dandy," he said automatically, chuckling at the way Bakugou's face scrunched with unsurety on how he felt about the nickname.

"Whatever, babe. You're so weird," Bakugou determined, and Kirishima immediately clicked his jaw shut, eyes bugging at the casual use of 'babe.'

K.O. Super effective.

Bakugou grinned to himself, turning the page of his book while Kirishima drooled in his lap with hearts in his eyes.

#kiribaku #bakushima #my writing #bakugou katsuki #kirishima eijirou #fluff #idk bakugou calling kiri sunshark came to me in a dream #this is just some random drabble i felt the need to get out of my head #not really my usual style of writing but i had fun with it

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cupcakeslushie · 1 year

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hello! i really enjoy your separated au, but i think i might be misunderstanding the broad strokes of how leo's second rescue will go. is like... he supposed to be 'cured' after he's freed of shredder/ kitune's influence and the emperean? /genq

sorry if this has already been asked at some point but ive been wondering for a while now

No need to worry! I know the timeline is just all over the place sometimes 👍

When the team goes to rescue Leo, he will be forced to fight them and without spoiling too much, Raph will take the most damage in that fight, but also he’ll be the key to actually saving Leo. With Raph’s help, most of the empyrean will be ‘burned’ out of Leo—so yes, he’s basically cured. All except for some residual empyrean that he can now control with daily meditation (and I imagine he picks up running 😆 as a kinda non-violent way to get out the excess energy). In the doomed timeline he’s mostly fine, until Raph dies and then the family realizes that the empyrean was never really as gone as they thought, and the more chaotic the battles get, the less control Leo has over controlling his blood rage.

Basically the after effects never fully leave him in either timeline, but when Leo can maintain good habits and doesn’t have any horrible events to trigger his blood rages, he’s got a good handle on his anger.

#ask slushie #rottmnt #separated au #rottmnt separated au #rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles #rise of the tmnt #rise leo

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angel-of-hunky-doryness · 8 months

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How Disney (Unintentionally) Created The Most Sympathetic Disney Villain

Yes, we're talking about Hades. So strap in, folks, this is gonna be a long one.

It may or may not come to a surprise to some of y'all that Mr. Hot head is my favorite Disney Villain. His charm, his sass, and above all his sarcastic one-liners, what isn't there to love about this walking-talking wheeling and dealing Mephistopheles archetype with the most basic villainous ambition of taking over the world.

Okay, fine, the cosmos. But at the end of the day, Hades has a very cut and dry appearance in Disney's Hercules. He doesn't even have nearly as much screentime as other Villains as I had previously believed.

First appearing quite apropos in the shadiest corner of Olympus ready to raise hell and all manner of chicanery just to incite misery to a newborn baby, only to exit stage left to cue the villainous side-plot with a bit of prophetical verse thrown in for good measure. A plan comes into being and he orders a hit on the aforementioned baby, only for the hit to fail despite y'know being the yutz in charge of the land of the dead *cough cough*

18 years pass and suddenly Hades has to completely 180 his plans, focusing not on his intended target of Olympus but the prophecy hero he thought he already axed. And so he unleashes a horde of monsters upon the city of Thebes as a result. The Titans are freed for some reason, Olympus is easily defeated and rescued, and then so is the plot device- I mean the Titans, and Hercules gives Hades the one punch man treatment, and so Hades is left to reconsider his life choices for all of eternity swirling in the Phlegethon/abyss. Pick your poison, either work.

Alright, cool, glad I got that out of the way. Oh, hold on, my sponsor, is giving me that beady eyed stare to remind our lovely audience that Meg was also an unfortunate victim in Hades' scheme. We'll get to Meg and Hades' relationship in a future post, but to summarize, Hades' treatment of Meg is far, far harsher and has tons more animosity than Hades and Hercules- the titular character mind you- ever had.

But I digress.

Despite, Hades' antagonistic role in the film, there are many, many nuggets that Disney gives that allows the audience to sympathize with his lot in life.

In his very quick introduction- it's a Disney movie the plot has to establish quickly cuz animators have lives too. Insert obligatory pay animator's fairly line here.

We have what I like to call Exhibit Alpha: The Introduction.

Now Disney Villains are no strangers to a dramatic introduction.

I couldn't find the exact gif of Maleficent appearing, but I ended up putting the one above because it proves my point. Everything about Maleficent strikes fear in the hearts of her audience. Everyone is watching her every move because they know she's a formidable threat.

When Hades makes himself known, the Olympians aren't scared or spooked like King Stefan and the 3 fairies were when Maleficent first appeared.

They're annoyed.

To them, Hades is the weird uncle no one invited, but shows up anyway. If anything, it looks like the gods have dealt with him before and know how to put on the cold shoulder to get him to leave faster.

The only one oblivious to all this is Zeus who invites him to stay and enjoy the party. But Hades isn't an idiot. He's very aware of the chilly reception he's getting and declines with this one-liner:

Keep this line in mind, we're going to circle back to it.

Zeus then proceeds to meet Hades with a quip right back and a very punny one at that, earning the first laugh since Hades arrived, and one at Hades' expense.

A laughing fit ensues and Hades storms off in a quiet rage.

A short scene indeed, but it tells us a lot about Hades, Zeus, and the gods.

Hades is an outcast.

Boo-hoo, homeboy just needs a girlfriend. Maybe a flaming flower-picking one, but that's neither here nor there.

Now, the interchange between Zeus and Hades makes it very clear how Hades started to become excluded from his family. Hades is absent to a lot of social gatherings and most of it is because of his job. A job that deals with stiffs, the dead, the dearly departed, however you wanna slice it.

Now before you say- well he was scheming to take over the cosmos on his free time, what do we see in the very next scene?

Over 5 billion souls served. Hades is a busy guy and the movie makes it really clear that even in his spare time meeting with the Fates, the work is piling up. Maybe that's why he's a fast talker, he's always moving and grooving so he can get some time to relax.

Yeah, yeah, we saw him smite some of his people on his small world boat ride, but considering we only see one god working in the underworld, he doesn't have the time of day for them and after eons of this drudgery he's gotten quite apathetic to their pleading.

The shades are just as doomed as him really.

Now we're going to gloss over a few scenes and move to Exhibit Beta: The Thebans.

Hold the phone, Hades isn't even in this scene.

My point exactly. Hades is a bit busy amassing a horde of monsters. Hecc, none of the disgruntled Thebans even mention a monster in their list of disasters. The Monster Mash party starts after Hercules rolled into town thanks to Meg after her failed recruitment of Nessus.

So what does that tell us? Whoever causes floods, earthquakes, fires probably caused by lightning incited these disasters not Hades. Hmm, on a weird side note, I don't think Hades' brothers, the earthshaker or god of storms, fit those descriptions at all.

All these disasters were happening while the Olympians did nothing. It wasn't unheard of for the ancient greek gods to send wayward mortals to do their bidding and help people or free them from monsters, so why does Phil put it upon himself to take Hercules out for the hero life? (Yeah Disney should've included the presence of other gods working on earth to make them out to really be responsible and helpful, hell maybe have Hermes fly in congratulating Herc for completing his training and direct him towards Thebes)

It's almost like Hades is the only god who's present or aware of the woes on earth. Sure he adds to it, but are the Olympians really lounging about doing nothing in this movie?

Exhibit Gamma: Storming the Palace

....

I have no words. Zeus and Hera could've been doing paperwork?? Looking out for their son??? Have a meeting with the Pantheon and that's why they're suddenly blindsided by the Titan attack???

Hades, though sassy, though sarcastic, and just a bucketful of ruthless and malicious described the Olympians to a T.

Hecc, the Olympians had no idea the Titans were out destroying the world until they were literally on their front doorstep. If Hades had told them to destroy half of Greece, they would've done so before the Olympians noticed.

And it's so contrived, but the only reason Hades lost was b/c Hercules shows up and frees some of the gods. Like if one other god was not on Mount Olympus they could've come save the day. But every god was there. Make that a fanfic y'all. ONe where the one god who was- I don't know confined to their island or something wondering where her mother went and so she has to gather all the nymphs and natures spirits to save olympus or some drivel like that.

Hermes had to sound the trumpet like judgement day to get the gods rocking and rolling. And that's not even considering how Hades gets punched into oblivion.

Exhibit Delta: Revelation 20:14 (NIV)

The one god who did his job has been thrown in prison??? Zombie apocalypse??? Is that you??? Where's Shawn when you need him???

Confine him to the underworld, Wonder Boy. Get your Greece Lightning father to take care of business in a flash. He'd get you Meg back in an instant. Just ask nicely. We know Psyche is in attendance. Meg deserves it after all she went through.

I know it's more dramatic, but the world of Hercules is absolutely screwed. Talk about a happy ending with terrible implications for the state of the world. Meg and Hercules are going to die and be sent to an afterlife with no deity to even send them to Elysium, and that's if Hades comes back at all.

*Takes a long drink from my pina colada*

I didn't mean for this post to turn into a hate show on the Disney Olympians. I'm just, I always knew Disney messed up hard on this movie. And yes I adore the hell out of it, but making a villain more sympathetic and likable than the hero? When I started writing this I didn't think it would get this bad, but the more I looked into it?

I haven't even touched how Hades has the worst employees, having to put up with his imps? The Titans who don't even know where the tallest mountain is?

For all his manipulation with Meg, Hades did give her everything he promised her. He's a devil sure, but he's a god of his word. He couldn't even force Meg to seduce Hercules, he had to convince her with some extra added relinquish your soul type bit. Hell, he was even willing to negotiate with Hercules after hurting his dog.

To finish off, even with those nuggets sprinkled in, at the end of the day Hades is a villain through and through. Yes, he's fun, yes, every single one of his lines is an improvised banger, but that's kind of the point.

One of the directors of Hercules once described Hades as being the type of evil that's attractive. Drags you in with promises of honey until you find yourself drowning in mercury. He's Mephistopheles offering you a Faustian deal, Satan with the apple, and this author trying to advertise their terrible fanfic that delves into this very topic.

I remain ever yours, dear readers.

Till next time.

#disney #disney hades #hercules #disney megara #disney hercules #my rambles #greek mythology #greek myth #zeus #disney villains #hades #persephone

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elasticitymudflap · 7 months

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This is apparently hot take but I don't agree that Simon and Betty were bad for each other, or that their relationship was unhealthy in any way.

They had their own individual issues going on (who doesn't?) but it was nothing that couldn't be overcome. People are being way too judgemental

honestly me too... but then again my perception of them is more autism spectrum informed, so maybe im just being sensitive and stupid about it?

i also... kind of dont agree that leaving betty in the situation she is—as we currently know it to be—is all that fair to her. i see people saying things like 'they just need to get over each other/leave each other' and that simon just needs to accept things as they are now. and im like... idk man, i honestly don't think that's the tidy answer to all of this. because all of that has already happened in a way.

he's obviously exhausted every option of trying to bring her back, and much like the situation with margles, even prismo couldn't help her. from what we see in 'obsidian' and the end of 'come along with me', he obviously did try to live with the sacrifices she made for him and move on with his life. of course he would still try to save her, but i think it's pretty obvious that at some point he finally accepted that there is no way of saving her, and that this is just the way things are forever. his golb shrine/ritual items are an act of ultimate desparation; in the end he wasn't trying to summon golb to fix her or something, he was trying to portal himself to the golb dimension. i think he was completely aware that if he made it to the golb dimension that there was no hope of ever returning from there, and that doing this probably would kill him... but that would be fine with him, because at least he could see her one last time.

betty, and golbetty, could have made the choice to stay with him in ooo. either to escape golb's guts with him and endure the end of the world together, or to remain fused with golb and just let the world end with only he and her left alive... but she didn't. for all intents and purposes, she did let him go. she, and later whatever of her was left, made the choice to leave him, to banish herself from this realm and give him the opportunity to live his life. you can see it so clearly inside golb's guts that she's tormented by the situation she put them in, and that she feels extremely guilty for how her actions had led to their, and ooo's, downfall.

i know it still reinforces her cycle of self sacrificing behaviour... but to be fair, this is a much different situation than, like, conciously deciding not to go to australia to explore a new and exciting relationship. i think in that moment she realized, as she apologizes to him for "messing everything up", that there was no way of them both getting out of this alive, and that it was her descisions that ultimately doomed them to this fate. so she literally let him go, shoved him out of her life, content with him to live his however he chooses now that he's freed from the curse in a world which she didn't destroy. remember that her wish to "banish golb" wouldn't have saved her, she would have been digested in the golb dimension had she been successful.

i'd even go so far as to say that maybe betty's wish came in clutch even earlier than episode 8; if she can actually control golb and portals to the golb dimension, there's no way she would have granted him passage, as it would basically be suicide. so maybe that flash of golb's face during the initial ritual was her using her influence to redirect the spell to open the portal to the universe in his head? she doesn't want to see him because of what "seeing her" means, she doesn't want him to kill himself for her, and i think that's pretty fucking reasonable. now, however, it's the only way to save him, so she has finally, begrudgingly, granted him passage.

i have no idea how this whole thing is going to wrap up, but in the end i dont entirely agree with the sentiment that they need to 'let each other go', because they already did that to an extent. i think they need to talk to each other, work their existing issues out, and see where things unfold from there. but again, im probably just being sensitive and stupid about it.

#also i think if your wife becomes god you're allowed to go a little crazy about it

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chaifootsteps · 5 months

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the change to Stolas' VA has another unintended problem, too: previously all three Goetias had pretty noticeable British accents (old Stolas and current Stella more than Via). It's cliche but it marked them as a set and it worked for the whole posh nobility vibe

Now Stolas doesn't have much of a British accent at all. it's like every aspect of the character that he would naturally have from being raised royal has been scrubbed clean.

this kind of thing happens with writers but especially mid liberal ones a lot - they want to have a privileged or powerful character or have a setting in the past but the writers are either worried the audience won't like them or are uncomfortable interrogating the politics of power themselves, so they write that character as having the same attitudes and education levels as everyone else.

it really broke my immersion how hard they do this for Stolas. he's literally dressed and waited on by imp butlers from childhood but he's magically enlightened enough that he bows to Blitz and talks to him like an equal? at that age he would already know that he's higher on Hell's pecking order without the show heavy-handedly having Paimon drill the notion into him, kids aren't dumb about that kind of thing. even if we want to pass the buck and say Paimon raised him into the kind of attitudes he displayed in s1, he never learnt better he just magically ditched all of that offscreen when Blitz didn't immediately love him back by the time Ozzie's happened

I agree with your earlier response about JKR's writing at least being more consistent than Vivzie's, but the framing of class issues reminded me of it again. HP has this notion that keeping house elf slavery going is fine and only Dobby can be freed from it because he's the one elf the audience knows and cares about, and everyone else will just have to stick with it because they aren't Harry Potter's one special friend. The way HB is going, Blitz will become Stolas' consort/lover and be compensated for being stuck with Stolas forever by getting some of Stolas' protections/luxuries in his life while the rest of the imps stay stuck on the bottom & the show will do its best to act like this is acceptable & hide the fact that Stolas still has imp servants (and has no intentions of giving them up) who don't get treated any better but who just have to lump it because they didn't realize getting better treatment means having to let Stolas fuck them literally on top of the way he already does economically

sorry for the long ask! this rant ended up in a waaaay different place than where it started

I mean, both Stolas voices gave him British accents, but I always preferred Brock's and there's a very good reason for that. It's because Brock's Stolas was basically Brock doing his best Anthony Head impression, and that's fucking glorious to me.

Like, come on. Tell me this wouldn't have made the best Stolas and Via MVs after it became common knowledge that that's what Brock was going for.

youtube

Agreed about the house elves though, and your prediction for the future. It's just going to get grosser from here on out.

#Anonymous #helluva boss #Helluva Boss critical #Stolas #actual blog post #video reply

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lanitalay · 3 months

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Among Flames and Starlight Chapter 4

A/n: ok so THIS IS VERY FUN EXCITING CHAPTER FOR THIS STORY.

Warnings: slut shaming, a lil blood, beron

Word count: 3.4k

Other Chapters

His maroon sleeve brushed against her bare arm. As fast as she could, Irene clasped her hands together on her lap. Cassian grumbled, picking up his glass of wine and downing it in one gulp. He signaled for one of the servants to fill it again and asked them to “not let it get empty.” Cassian was the only one of the Night Court with her, Azriel had been instructed to accompany Victoria as she was assigned to a different table tonight and Rhysand was sitting with his mother.

“Good evening” he greeted. Gods, his voice. She had never heard him speak. Earlier he had remained silent and the group left before he had the chance to say anything. If Irene knew how melodic it was she would have lingered. Drops of blood gathered in her palms as she pierced her skin with her nails. That was a completely inappropriate thought. He was a monster. Cassian tipped the glass his way in lieu of speaking. Irene nodded in acknowledgement.

“You’re not usually this civilized soldier,” Eris remarked. Irene reached for an embellished linen napkin and wiped her hands clean. Cassian leveled a look at him that promised hurt, vengeance. “It takes all of my self control to not rip your throat out” the Illyrian replied in a steady voice.

“You’re not still upset about the ordeal with Morrigan are you? That was so long ago I’ve basically forgotten about it” Irene’s brows shot up and she looked to Cassian, who was sitting across from her. His hands balled up in fists, nostrils flaring and lips pulling back to reveal sharp canines. Before he could say-or do- anything Irene interjected.

“It’s disappointing that you are exactly what everyone says.”

Eris turned his head to fully face her but Irene did not meet his gaze, focusing on the bread in front of her. She was spreading butter on a roll as Eris responded “you speak? I thought Rhysand had you as a muted little wh-” Cassian slammed his fist on the table causing the cutlery and porcelain to rattle. “That’s enough, Eris.” Irene’s face was red. Neck, cheeks and eyes burning.

“You reek of him, you know? It 's nauseating.”

Irene turned her head and looked directly into his honeyed eyes. Shame pulsing through her veins for having admired them hours before. “Rude, vulgar, hot headed, unintelligent and weak. Wasn’t your father considering his heir might be the youngest Vanserra? What’s his name? Lucien?” She picked her glass of wine and sipped, feigning nonchalance. “I suggest you don’t burn all the bridges you have with other courts, emissary might be the only position left for you after your kid-brother ascends the throne.”

“I don’t consider an exchange with an Illyrian bastard and a half-blood concubine to be detrimental to my diplomatic relations.” Cassian picked up the sharpest knife in front of him and made to lunge forward. His raised hand was stopped by his shadow who promptly dragged him out of the hall. Irene threw her napkin on the table and followed after them.

“Cassian, you didn’t have to lose your cool like that, now Celene will hear about it and probably the High Lord and it will be a bigger mess” Irene reprimanded her friend while he watched her pace the length of the sitting room in the apartments. “He was running his mouth, Ire. He has no reason to insult you. It’s fine if it's just me, but he doesn’t even know you.” Irene squeezed between her brows, in an attempt to alleviate the tension then asked “how long is he going to be chained like that?” Cassian’s appointed babysitter had chained him to a column, instead of taking him to the dungeons, upon Irene’s insistence.

“When the High Lord orders me to free him, he will be freed.”

“Mother above,” Celene’s voice made Irene flinch. She would not want to be at the end of the glare Cassian was receiving. Beside her, Rhysand tried to suppress a shit eating grin, Azriel shook his head in disapproval and Victoria’s eyes bulged from her head.

“Explain, now” the Lady demanded.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

Irene fanned her face white an artisanal fan that Victoria had insisted she pack. It was useful as they stood under the blaring sun. The new docks Tarquin had ordered were enormous. There was a ship docked at every bridge and even more littered across the turquoise bay. They were being inaugurated today. Six ships destined for each of the courts, excluding Summer, were lined up in the middle of the docks. Each High Lord stood behind their designated ship with a bottle of sparkling wine. It was a pristine day for a sail, the skies clear and a steady breeze was sweeping from the East.

Tarquin was finishing up a speech about this new chapter for the Courts and how “prosperity will reign upon the land.” Irene was sweating, the fan not doing enough. It did not help that Eris was next to her and he seemed to radiate heat. She had tried her best to move to another spot but the crowds were packed tightly on the narrow bridge to the docks. It was not meant for holding such a large group of fae, it was built so merchants could anticipate which ships were rolling in. She was biting her tongue because something told her he was doing it on purpose. Manipulating the temperature so that she’d be miserable.

Victoria had soothed her last night, saying that everyone had petty dramas with other courts “Rhys can’t stand Tamlin, he plays nice but only to keep the peace and Cassian has an enemy in probably every court.” But Irene wasn’t thrilled about having Eris for an enemy, if that’s what it was.

She counted each flap of her fan, each mast on the ships, everytime Tarquin said the word “prosperity” and she counted the seconds that passed. Even if it seemed that time had stopped in this excruciating moment.

It was indeed passing, if ever so slowly.

The six ships set off and the High Lords threw the bottles of sparkling wine until they collided on the wood, dousing the stern with the bubbly nectar. The crowd cheered and promptly left the bridge. Irene remained in her place since the person beside her refused to move. “Do you mind?” She asked him. “What’s the hurry?” Eris retorted, “can’t handle the heat?” Irene rolled her eyes and waited for the crowd to thin out before going around him and finding her friends. She walked until she reached the shade under a large tree and breathed in the summer air. It was unlike anything she had ever experienced. The salt opened her airways, it felt like breathing for the first time.

Velaris seemed cruel compared to Adriata.

Sharp, familiar talons scraped along her mental shields and Rhysand told Irene where to meet him. “There you are, darling” he smiled as she neared him. He held out his hand, Irene looked to see if anyone else was around before taking it. “You don’t have to be so paranoid, even if people found out about us it wouldn’t be a big deal.” He gave her hand a reassuring squeeze.

“You won’t get called a whore and concubine but I will, Rhys.” He stopped walking, turning to her “who said that to you?” She shook her head “I don’t feel like talking about it.” Realization flashed across his features “it was Eris, right? That’s why Cassian got locked up?”

“Can we not talk about it?” Irene pleaded.

“Why didn’t you just tell me? Why didn’t he?”

She took a deep breath. “I would have been mortified if he told your mother and your sister that Eris Vanserra said I reek of you, that I’m your plaything. So he omitted those details because it was embarrassing. Now, please let's just have a nice day at the beach.”

Rhysand relented and winnowed them the rest of the way. When Irene opened her eyes again she was in awe. They were in a small cove. It was just about the size of her bedroom in the town house. White and smooth sand, a coral reef protected the beach so there were no waves. It was a crystalline pool of pure blue. “This is where I wanted to take you, I found this beach years ago and it's always empty.”

“It's breathtaking, Rhys.” She turned and stepped on her tiptoes to kiss him. He placed his hands on her thighs, signaling for her to jump and wrap her legs around him. She did and then the kiss deepened. Her fingers ran through his hair and she pulled his face away just a bit to say “thank you for bringing me here.”

It was a scene she would have loved to freeze. To live in forever. They swam in the water, lounged on the sand, made love under the shade of a palm tree without the worry of someone seeing them. She wanted this forever.

Him, forever.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

Irene stared at her reflection yet again. Tonight was the grand ball, signaling the end of the celebrations. Her gown tonight was a dark violet color, the fabric weaved with reflective fibers that made it shimmer. The fabric was silky and it cascaded around her curves beautifully. The top covered her chest and wrapped around her neck like a halter. Her back was fully exposed down to just above her underwear. Victoria insisted she put her hair up to show the dress off. So she pinned her locks into a tight bun, adorning it with a silver hair piece to match the bracelets and earrings she wore. She lined her eyes with kohl and tinted her lips in a deep berry shade.

When Rhysand saw her walking into the sitting room he knew it was over for him. He wanted to cage her against the wall and draw out all of the little noises he loved so much. Wanted to kiss every inch of her exposed skin. Wanted to see her only in the bracelets and earrings. He maintained his composure and with gritted teeth watched as she looped her arm with Azriel’s. He would be her escort tonight, since Cassian was freed from the chains but forbidden to attend the ball, or any other event. And, since Rhys would be dancing with a list of prearranged matches, all with females who could offer potentially advantageous connections.

His father had made that list and one for Victoria as well.

When the entourage entered the Grand Ballroom the party was in full swing. Dancing, drinking, eating and a fair bit of laughing transformed the marble lined room into a paradise of indulgence. Rhysand was quickly ordered to dance with a female from Winter. She was gorgeous but he could not help the way his eyes searched for Irene in the crowd. He relaxed when he saw her drinking wine and chatting with Azriel near the spread of food.

“Do you want to dance?” Azriel asked, pointing to the whirl of revelers. “I do, there’s this one dance I’m dying to do. Hopefully they play it tonight.” He takes her hand and they join in the dancing. They are two songs in when the band starts playing a familiar intro. “This is it, Az!” He grimaces “I don’t know this one.”

Irene frowns and says “oh, that’s fine, let’s just get something to drink instea-” Rhysand steps in front of them “I know this dance” and offers a hand. He knew it because she had taught him the basic movements of it on the beach. Irene beams and takes it, he swiftly leads her back to the dance floor where everyone else has positioned themselves. Right on queue the song moves into the first verse. All of the couples dance in a waltz around the room.

“You’re doing great,” Irene reassures Rhys, who is leading her carefully to not crash into anyone else. Mind to mind he says “you’re making me crazy tonight, I’ve never seen a more beautiful creature” and smiles when he notices the blush staining her cheeks. “Now you spin me and dance with the person behind you, one, two, three-” he spins her and she lands in the arms of Varian, the High Lord of Summer's cousin. “Good evening, Lady Irene.” She quirks a brow, “how do you know my name?” He spins her once but brings her back to him and answers “I sent out your invitation, upon the insistence of Victoria.” They separate but their hands remain clasped as they circle each other “oh! Thank you so much, she never mentioned who she had to bribe.” He places his hand on her waist again “it’s no problem, only next time leave Cassian at home.” Irene laughs “will do.” He spins her one more time and she reaches her final partner.

Rhysand clenched his jaw so hard he thought he might chip a tooth when he saw who Irene was dancing with.

She suppressed a groan and an insult when Eris placed his hand on her back and grabbed her right hand with his own. Stay silent. Don’t engage. Look anywhere but him. “Your lordling seems to be unhappy with your current dance partner.” Eris is smirking when she meets his gaze. “So am I.”

He spins her once, not missing a beat. “He doesn’t like to share his toys, never has.” His lips graze her ear. Irene hisses. He spins her again, but instead of having her return to face him, he presses his chest against her back in a new variation of the dance. This makes her have a clear view of Rhys and his obvious scowl. “What was your name again?”

His voice brings her back to the moment. “Irene,” she answers flatly.

“I meant your last name,” he spins her and they are face to face again. “Vallier.”

“I thought you looked familiar, I knew a Vallier during the war. Sad old male. Never understood what he was doing on a battlefield.” On instinct Irene dug her nails into Eris’ hand, deep enough to draw blood, and snapped “say one word about my father and I’ll have your head.”

He chuckles, “it’s funny that you think you have some sort of upper hand.” They separated except their hands, now smeared in blood, circling each other. “You’re an ass,” Irene spits at him. She flinches as his palm becomes scolding. Her own searing in pain. She curses loudly. Eris leads her through the final movements in a blur of precision. She centers herself to the music. One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight. She returns to Rhys, enraged.

“What happened?” He asked through her mind. Irene shook her head, not wanting to relive the last few moments so soon. What he said about her, about her father. It crossed a line. “Let’s just finish the dance” he nodded and continued to spin her through the final movements of the song. When it was over Rhysand held onto Irene’s right hand and inspected it. It felt rougher now, when he saw the burns on her fingers he tensed and when he saw the blood under her nails he stopped in his tracks. “He did this to you?”

“Yes, now let’s get something to drink-” before she could finish her thought he was storming through the crowd, aiming straight towards Eris. Azriel, who had been observing the whole scene, intercepted him and dragged him out of the ballroom. Irene was right behind them when Victoria saw her and began telling her about how well a member of the Winter Court dances and how he never missed a beat. Irene concluded that Azriel could handle Rhysand; she would speak with him later that night.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

“I’ll kill him for this, Irene.” He said her hand in his, as he pressed a kiss to each of her scorched fingers. “It’s basically healed and I’m not a reason for another war. But I appreciate the sentiment.”

“It wasn’t a joke, his days have been numbered since he left Mor for dead.” Irene pursed her lips, “hey, tomorrow we go back home and we can forget this happened. Let’s just say that for us, the trip ended this afternoon at the beach.” She leaned in and kissed his lips, then his cheeks and then she kissed down his neck. Rhysand groaned and Irene could feel the vibrations as she continued to kiss his chest, unbuttoning his shirt along the way.

He stopped her, putting his hand on her chin and lifting her face to meet his gaze. “I swear to you, if he ever hurts you again, I will kill him.” Irene furrowed her brows as she felt a tingle along her ribs. “Why would you swear something like that?” Her heart sped up.

A bargain was not unimportant and Rhsyand had just chosen to mark both of their bodies with the promise of retribution. If he was willing to leave a mark so permanent… maybe her feelings were not as one sided as she thought. Maybe he loved her too.

“Because I can’t stand to see him getting away with hurting the people I care about.” A pang in her chest brought her back to reality. He cared about her, she adored him. It was not the same.

“Right, well, hopefully for him he never sees me again,” she forced a laugh, then a yawn. “It’s been a long day, Rhys, I should get some sleep.” He nodded, stood from her bed and left with a kiss goodnight.

Irene finished packing the trunks she had barely riffled through and went to the apartment dining room for breakfast. She was the last one to sit down, everyone else was already halfway done with their food. “Good morning,” she greeted. While it was thrilling to be out of Velaris for the first time, she missed her home dearly. She missed the stables, the horses, the libraries, the priestesses, the dance lessons, her room... She did not miss the biting cold however, and would be sad to say goodbye to the warm weather. Even if she did not enjoy sweating, it was better than being halfway frozen anytime she stepped outside.

The table grumbled a collective “morning.” Irene made herself a plate and sat down. She stiffened when the High Lord walked in, he did not usually join them for meals. “Vallier,” he said her name in a way that made her cringe. “Yes, sir?”

He remained standing. “Are you ready to go?” She scrunched her brows and answered “I just finished packing everything.”

“Very well, take her away.” Irene’s eyes bulged as two guards dressed in orange and green uniforms rushed into the dining room.

“What is going on?” Celene asked, standing from her chair. The High Lord motioned with his hand for the guards to go on. They grabbed each of Irene’s arms, yanking her from her seat. “Beron has been pestering me about a bride ever since Morrigan soiled herself. So I’m getting him-” he pointed to Irene now “and her off my back.”

“What?” This time it was Victoria, “you can’t just sell her off. It 's not right-” He silenced her with a snap of his fingers and she scratched against her throat as she attempted to fight back, but her powers were no match against a High Lord’s.

Rhysand and his mother shared a look “she’s a member of this court-” but then he was silenced too. “She is not a member of the court, she is property of it and I have determined this is the best use of her.”

Celene asked, “Who is her betrothed?”

“I believe it is the oldest Vanserra.”

Irene had no words. None. Nothing she could say to stop it from happening. Nothing she could say to encapsulate the way her heart had sunk to her stomach. How Cassian and Azriel had paled. How Victoria’s eyes were red and watery as she watched Irene be dragged from the table. How Rhysand seemed to be paralyzed, only his erratic blinking an indication of distress.

She remained silent all the way from the apartments to the landing balcony, where nine fae, all with red hair, were waiting.

Waiting for her.

Beron looked her up and down, assessing.

“She’ll do,” he said. Eris strode over to her and grabbed her arm with a too warm hand. She made to pull away, to run and scream for help. But his grasp was firm.

Before she could shout they were already in Autumn.

taglist: @sidthedollface2 @acourtofbatboydreams

#acomaf #acowar #acotar #acofas #acotar fanfiction #acosf #azriel shadowsinger #rhysand #lucien vanserra #eris x oc #eris vanserra #eris acotar #mor #cassian acotar #cassian #night court #azriel acotar #azriel #summer court

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mariacallous · 2 months

Text

While the finer points of running a social media business can be debated, one basic truth is that they all run on attention. Tech leaders are incentivized to grow their user bases so there are more people looking at more ads for more time. It’s just good business.

As the owner of Twitter, Elon Musk presumably shared that goal. But he claimed he hadn’t bought Twitter to make money. This freed him up to focus on other passions: stopping rival tech companies from scraping Twitter’s data without permission—even if it meant losing eyeballs on ads.

Data-scraping was a known problem at Twitter. “Scraping was the open secret of Twitter data access. We knew about it. It was fine,” Yoel Roth wrote on the Twitter alternative Bluesky. AI firms in particular were notorious for gobbling up huge swaths of text to train large language models. Now that those firms were worth a lot of money, the situation was far from fine, in Musk’s opinion.

In November 2022, OpenAI debuted ChatGPT, a chatbot that could generate convincingly human text. By January 2023, the app had over 100 million users, making it the fastest growing consumer app of all time. Three months later, OpenAI secured another round of funding that closed at an astounding valuation of $29 billion, more than Twitter was worth, by Musk’s estimation.

OpenAI was a sore subject for Musk, who’d been one of the original founders and a major donor before stepping down in 2018 over disagreements with the other founders. After ChatGPT launched, Musk made no secret of the fact that he disagreed with the guardrails that OpenAI put on the chatbot to stop it from relaying dangerous or insensitive information. “The danger of training AI to be woke—in other words, lie—is deadly,” Musk said on December 16, 2022. He was toying with starting a competitor.

Near the end of June 2023, Musk launched a two-part offensive to stop data scrapers, first directing Twitter employees to temporarily block “logged out view.” The change would mean that only people with Twitter accounts could view tweets.

“Logged out view” had a complicated history at Twitter. It was rumored to have played a part in the Arab Spring, allowing dissidents to view tweets without having to create a Twitter account and risk compromising their anonymity. But it was also an easy access point for people who wanted to scrape Twitter data.

Once Twitter made the change, Google was temporarily blocked from crawling Twitter and serving up relevant tweets in search results—a move that could negatively impact Twitter’s traffic. “We’re aware that our ability to crawl Twitter.com has been limited, affecting our ability to display tweets and pages from the site in search results,” Google spokesperson Lara Levin told The Verge. “Websites have control over whether crawlers can access their content.” As engineers discussed possible workarounds on Slack, one wrote: “Surely this was expected when that decision was made?”

Then engineers detected an “explosion of logged in requests,” according to internal Slack messages, indicating that data scrapers had simply logged in to Twitter to continue scraping. Musk ordered the change to be reversed.

On July 1, 2023, Musk launched part two of the offensive. Suddenly, if a user scrolled for just a few minutes, an error message popped up. “Sorry, you are rate limited,” the message read. “Please wait a few moments then try again.”

Rate limiting is a strategy that tech companies use to constrain network traffic by putting a cap on the number of times a user can perform a specific action within a given time frame (a mouthful, I know). It’s often used to stop bad actors from trying to hack into people’s accounts. If a user tries an incorrect password too many times, they see an error message and are told to come back later. The cost of doing this to someone who has forgotten their password is low (most people stay logged in), while the benefit to users is very high (it prevents many people’s accounts from getting compromised).

Except, that wasn’t what Musk had done. The rate limit that he ordered Twitter to roll out on July 1 was an API limit, meaning Twitter had capped the number of times users could refresh Twitter to look for new tweets and see ads. Rather than constrain users from performing a specific action, Twitter had limited all user actions. “I realize these are draconian rules,” a Twitter engineer wrote on Slack. “They are temporary. We will reevaluate the situation tomorrow.”

At first, Blue subscribers could see 6,000 posts a day, while nonsubscribers could see 600 (enough for just a few minutes of scrolling), and new nonsubscriber accounts could see just 300. As people started hitting the limits, #TwitterDown started trending on, well, Twitter. “This sucks dude you gotta 10X each of these numbers,” wrote user @tszzl.

The impact quickly became obvious. Companies that used Twitter direct messages as a customer service tool were unable to communicate with clients. Major creators were blocked from promoting tweets, putting Musk’s wish to stop data scrapers at odds with his initiative to make Twitter more creator friendly. And Twitter’s own trust and safety team was suddenly stopped from seeing violative tweets.

Engineers posted frantic updates in Slack. “FYI some large creators complaining because rate limit affecting paid subscription posts,” one said.

Christopher Stanley, the head of information security, wrote with dismay that rate limits could apply to people refreshing the app to get news about a mass shooting or a major weather event. “The idea here is to stop scrapers, not prevent people from obtaining safety information,” he wrote. Twitter soon raised the limits to 10,000 (for Blue subscribers), 1,000 (for nonsubscribers), and 500 (for new nonsubscribers). Now, 13 percent of all unverified users were hitting the rate limit.

Users were outraged. If Musk wanted to stop scrapers, surely there were better ways than just cutting off access to the service for everyone on Twitter.

“Musk has destroyed Twitter’s value & worth,” wrote attorney Mark S. Zaid. “Hubris + no pushback—customer empathy—data = a great way to light billions on fire,” wrote former Twitter product manager Esther Crawford, her loyalties finally reversed.

Musk retweeted a joke from a parody account: “The reason I set a ‘View Limit’ is because we are all Twitter addicts and need to go outside.”

Aside from Musk, the one person who seemed genuinely excited about the changes was Evan Jones, a product manager on Twitter Blue. For months, he’d been sending executives updates regarding the anemic signup rates. Now, Blue subscriptions were skyrocketing. In May, Twitter had 535,000 Blue subscribers. At $8 per month, this was about $4.2 million a month in subscription revenue. By early July, there were 829,391 subscribers—a jump of about $2.4 million in revenue, not accounting for App Store fees.

“Blue signups still cookin,” he wrote on Slack above a screenshot of the signup dashboard.

Jones’s team capitalized on the moment, rolling out a prompt to upsell users who’d hit the rate limit and encouraging them to subscribe to Twitter Blue. In July, this prompt drove 1.7 percent of the Blue subscriptions from accounts that were more than 30 days old and 17 percent of the Blue subscriptions from accounts that were less than 30 days old.

Twitter CEO Linda Yaccarino was notably absent from the conversation until July 4, when she shared a Twitter blog post addressing the rate limiting fiasco, perhaps deliberately burying the news on a national holiday.

“To ensure the authenticity of our user base we must take extreme measures to remove spam and bots from our platform,” it read. “That’s why we temporarily limited usage so we could detect and eliminate bots and other bad actors that are harming the platform. Any advance notice on these actions would have allowed bad actors to alter their behavior to evade detection.” The company also claimed the “effects on advertising have been minimal.”

If Yaccarino’s role was to cover for Musk’s antics, she was doing an excellent job. Twitter rolled back the limits shortly after her announcement. On July 12, Musk debuted a generative AI company called xAI, which he promised would develop a language model that wouldn’t be politically correct. “I think our AI can give answers that people may find controversial even though they are actually true,” he said on Twitter Spaces.

Unlike the rival AI firms he was trying to block, Musk said xAI would likely train on Twitter’s data.

“The goal of xAI is to understand the true nature of the universe,” the company said grandly in its mission statement, echoing Musk’s first, disastrous town hall at Twitter. “We will share more information over the next couple of weeks and months.”

In November 2023, xAI launched a chatbot called Grok that lacked the guardrails of tools like ChatGPT. Musk hyped the release by posting a screenshot of the chatbot giving him a recipe for cocaine. The company didn’t appear close to understanding the nature of the universe, but per haps that’s coming.

Excerpt adapted from Extremely Hardcore: Inside Elon Musk’s Twitter by Zoë Schiffer. Published by arrangement with Portfolio Books, a division of Penguin Random House LLC. Copyright © 2024 by Zoë Schiffer.

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ramp-it-up · 2 years

Text

Now

Paring: Chris Evans x Black Actress Reader RPF

Summary: You and Chris have a whirlwind romance. Until someone gets cold feet.

Warnings: 18+ As always, MINORS DNI. RPF, SMUT, ANGST. Not Beta’d. Toxic Chris, toxic reader. Toxic idiots in love. Denial, fear of commitment, imbalance in public perception, oral sex (m/f receiving), sloppy toppy, gagging, choking, fine dining to the extreme performed on female, squirting, over stimulation, eating the groceries, praise kink, good girl kink, hints of dom/sub, p in v, raw sex (wrap it up folks), creampie, aftercare, bathing together, argument. Basically pwp. A/N: This comes After Sideways and before Again in the Again Series.

Notice: I no longer operate a taglist. Follow @rampitupandread to be notified when I post.

DO NOT COPY, REPOST, OR TRANSLATE MY WORK

After your PR dinner date, which convinced everyone that you and Chris were indeed a couple that had a tiff at the presser three months ago, your life was plunged into an ocean of scrutiny you had not yet had to endure, even as a rising actor.

All of the gossip sites were speculating on every aspect of you, from the naturalness of your body, which you hated, to what your friends and family thought, to whether or not your relationship with Chris was genuine. It was enough to test your patience in every interview.

Even though you and Chris had strict riders which stipulated no questions about your relationship, most interviewers tried to work it in.

You began to get the reputation as difficult when you kept walking out on press. Chris was just labeled ‘coy’ and ‘charming’ when he refused to answer. The golden boy was still golden, and possibly trapped by his publicist in this relationship, while you were a schemer, a climber, and hardly his type, according to his fans. It was exhausting.

What people didn’t know was that your relationship was very real and very intense. Chris wanted to be around you as much as possible, and for some reason, you couldn’t leave him alone. And that scared you. You were getting soft.

And that wouldn’t do.

But Chris Evans was your weakness. You found that out big time when he had to go to the west coast for a project.

It was you and he against the world when You were together. But when he left, insecurities had a chance to weave its way through your brain.

Two weeks apart had you feening like a little crackhead for him.

Oh fucking no.

When Chris knocked on the door of your West Village apartment when he got back to the city, you were on him like a succubus. You were so happy to see him, it scared you. So instead of saying what was bubbling up in your throat to say, you just put your tongue down his, and dragged him to your bedroom, stripped off your clothes, then pulled him close as you sat down on your bed and started unbuckling his belt.

You needed him. Now.

“Well, hello to you too, Baby.”

“Hello,” you said sweetly.

You finally freed his cock, and you licked your lips as you started carefully dry stroking it to life. Chris’s eyes were hooded as he stared down at you.

Damn, he missed you.

Damn. He loved you.

“Is this what we’re doing now?”

You batted your eyes up at him, held his dick in your hand and licked a stripe up the underside, circling the tip and then encasing it in your mouth. You sucked it hard, then slid your mouth down his shaft, causing him to hit the back of your throat.

“Oh, shiiiiittttttt. That sweet, dirty, beautiful mouth.”

Chris’s hands went to your ears, pushing his fingers deep into your scalp as he took control of your face and started to fuck it.

You held onto his thighs, feeling his hips flex as he used your face. Your fingernails dug into his flexing muscles as he listened to you gargle his cock.

“Gooood fucking girl. You take my cock so well.”

You gazed up at him through your tears as he smiled down at you.

“Make me wanna…”

His hips stuttered under your palms, as you felt his cock grow even larger and pulse in your throat. You were drooling and concentrating on breathing as tears and saliva rolled down your face.

Chris slowly slid out of your mouth and you gasped for breath, coughing as he wiped your face with his thumbs as he got down on the floor with you. His hands held your face gently now as he cleaned you up a bit and tenderly kissed your swollen lips. He rubbed your neck, down to your shoulders, then massaged your breasts as you trembled under his touch, wanting him where you needed him.

“I know what you want.”

One of his hands slid down the center of your chest and your belly and the other moved up to your neck.He carefully slid his fingers around your neck while simultaneously slipping two in between your pussy lips.

“So fucking wet.”

You whimpered in his grip.

“Atta fucking girl. That’s a good girl. There you go. Lemme hit that spot.”

You started moving your hips lustily, always wanting more.

“That’s right. Cum for me?”

You squeezed your eyes shut as you tried to fight it in vain. Chris chuckled. He leaned close to your ear as he pressed down on your clit with his thumb and curled his fingers inside you.

“Cum. Now.”

“OH SHIT!!!!”

You screamed and came, collapsing back on the thick carpet as Chris continued to pump his fingers inside you.

“Does that feel good? This is such a good little pussy. Love that cream. Let me lick it up.”

“Nonononono.”

This time you tried to push his head away, but as soon as his lips attached themselves to your clit, and he started sucking, you bucked your hips burying his face further. His moans in your pussy got you close again. Chris could tell.

“You gonna squirt in my mouth? Give it to me. Don’t run from me. Come. Here. Now. Keep those legs open.”

Chris’ voice did nothing for your ability to breathe. This energy was electric, and Chris in control amped up the connection. But before you could come, came another command.

“Turn over on your fucking knees. I need that ass.”

You grew a little alarmed, but looked behind you to see Chris smirking again and then bending down to eat your ass.

You were not ready.

“Oh my fucking god, Chris.”

You almost passed out under the talents of his tongue.

“Play with that clit.”

You immediately obeyed, manipulating your poor little clit until you came yet again. Chris flipped you back over on your back again. He pumped his cock over you and you watched it drip as your chest heaved from trying to attain oxygen.

Chris opened your legs wide and then leaned down, caging your head between his hands. He looked you in the eyes, kissed you on the nose, and then slid home, cock easing into your canal easily.

But his girth. You would never truly get used to it.

“That’s a fucking good girl. So fucking tight. Give it to me.”

Chris started pumping slowly, burying his hands in your hair, massaging and holding you steady as he tried to peer into your soul. You closed your eyes, as you moaned and writhed beneath him. He felt amazing even though he was moving slowly.

“Open your eyes. I wanna see how you look as you take what I give you.”

“Fuck!” you exclaimed, as his words destroyed you.

The look on your face made Chris swell and pulse inside you.

Chris moved one hand to your clit and started to flick it. Your body reacted.

“Fuck yes! I love when this tight pussy gets even tighter. Makes me wanna tear it up.”

He started snapping his hips harder and faster. That, combined with his thumb on your clit made you cum around him.

Chris was looking down now, mesmerized at the sight of your cunt strangling his dick and clenching around him.

He looked back up at you, blue eyes piercing.

“Look at all that sweet cream.”

He gave you a side grin the second before he slid out of you and began to eat your pussy again. You were so sensitive that your knees clamped around his ears. His hands came up and pried them apart and he peered up at you, eyes ominous.

“Keep them open.”

Chris lewdly and loudly ate you out again, slurping up all of your juices, while your hands moved to push his head away. He looked up and raised that eyebrow of his and you stopped, then suddenly came into his mouth at the thrill that you might be punished for it.

Chris moaned as you released and then manhandled you again as he turned you over and pulled you up on your knees.

His balls started slapping up against your clit, making your eyes roll back into your head.

“So… fucking…tight.”

“Ah! Chris…shitttttt!”

It was as if all the orgasms were blending together. You didn't know where one ended and the other began. You were spasming around him uncontrollably.

“I’m gonna… fuck….its too fucking good.”

“Ohhhhhoooooooo.”

You were unintelligibly trying to express how you felt. Chris listened to your voice in rapture and leaned down to run his tongue up your spine which caused you to arch your back as a reflex.

“Yes yes yes yes yes, You’re squeezing the life outta me.”

He pulled you up so that your back was against his front, and his hand came up around your throat. Your throat was raw as you moaned and swivled your hips as he fucked up into you. His hand splayed on your belly and his fingertips grazed your over stimulated clit. The sounds of him fucking your wet, sloppy cunt were pornographic.

“This is what you wanted isn’t it? You’re such a good fucking girl. Ah shit…s-s-so good.”

Chris stuttering in your ear made you come apart all over again.

“Oh…oh…OHHHHHHH!”

“F-f-fuck, you’re making me cum baby girl…. Yes, yes, yessss.. Shittt….”

You felt his warm spend flood into you and drip down your thighs. And then you were a puddle in Chris’s arms. The next thing you knew, he was carrying you to the bathroom and you heard water running. You woke up as your toe touched warm water.

Chris kissed your forehead and carried you over to the toilet, placing you on it.

“Pee.”

You giggled as you did what you were told, and watched as Chris climbed into the tub. It was strange, you didn’t feel weird at all. It was like you were comfortable. And safe. And in love.

That was a problem.

When you were done, Chris made grabby hands at you and you climbed into the tub and relaxed into his arms. He leaned back and languidly stroked your body, but eventually peeked at your face. You were staring off into space and frowning.

“What’s wrong?”

You were startled back into reality. You’d been thinking about really being in a relationship with Chris and how that would change your life. How that would change your heart. It would make you soft. And vulnerable.

You weren’t ready to be hurt again.

“Nothing.”

Chris sighed, knowing you were lying. He guessed what was up. He thought you needed reassurance.

“Y/n. I want to tell you something.”

You turned around in the tub, facing him, even though the faucet was poking you in the back. You were in between Chris and a hard place.

“I want to tell you something too. I can’t ride the subway with you.”

Chris looked confused.

“What? What are you talking about?”

“I can’t ride the subway with you. You’re too recognizable.”

Chris raised his eyebrow at you.

“You want to ride the subway?”

He was incredulous.

“Yes! I want to have my life like it is.”

You crossed your arms across your wet chest.

“You ever heard of a car service?”

“Who needs a car service? I can ride the subway, I can walk in the West Village, run along the greenway, go eat at any restaurant outside, and no one hardly bats an eye at me. No one is checking for someone like me. But with you… it’s harder to do that.”

Chris straightened up, mouth pursed in a line.

“So I cramp your style?”

You gave him a look.

“Are we really going to do this?”

“I feel like I can do anything for the person I love…”

His big blue eyes almost hurt your heart. If you had one.

“You don’t love me Chris. This is a PR relationship, remember?”

You got out of the tub and pulled on your robe.

“You’re not serious?”

Chris said it to your retreating back.

Chris couldn’t believe it as he climbed out, grabbed a towel and went after you.

“So you're saying you don’t feel…”

“I do feel, Chris. That’s the problem.”

You sat on the edge of your still made bed, head in your hands.

“That’s not a problem baby.” Chris paused. “I mean, if you don’t want it to be.”

You looked up at him.

“Don’t get in your head about the future. Be here. Now. Y/N… I love…”

You cut him off.

“Don’t Chris. We just had some amazing sex. That’s what you’re feeling. The afterglow. That’s what’s happening right now.”

“Don’t fucking tell me how I’m feeling!”

Chris was so frustrated.

“Don’t fucking yell at me. You know what. Just get out. Go to The Plaza. Go back home to Boston. Now.“

Chris stood there, flabbergasted. Then, he moved to get his clothes.

“I know what you’re doing. I can see right through you.”

“You don’t know shit, Evans.”

“Ha!”

“Ha fucking Ha! Get the fuck out!”

“Be careful what you wish for. You’ll be calling me for some dick soon!”

Chris was trying to goad you into admitting something, anything that would tie you to him as he gathered his things.

“I will never call you for shit else, Evans.”

“We’ll see.”

Chris stalked out toward your living room and opened the door. You took the handle as he walked out.

“Never again!”

And you slammed the door in his face and listened as he yelled, “Arrrghhhhhh!”

Your heart pounded until you heard him stomp off down the hallway.

You weren’t ready to be hurt again.

So you did the hurting.

Feedback is a joy forever!

#ask dj #chris evans #chris evans smut #chris evans imagine #chris evans x female reader #chris evans x black reader #chris evans x reader #chris evans rpf #chris evans x black! female reader #chris evans x black actress reader #again series

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fanficsforfun · 10 months

Text

Seventh heaven

Paring: Merle Dixon x female reader

Era: Prison

Word count: 1,2k

Warnings: hard language, sexual content (kissing, grinding, handjob, blowjob), some praising

Summary: Merle has a bad day and you decide to cheer him up

Author's note: this is (again) basically smut without plot

---

It was evening and Merle was sitting all alone in his cell. The lack of drugs, booze and sex bugged him a great deal. And of course there was none of the above available in the whole fucking prison. He couldn't even jerk off, he was so worked up that there was no room for any other feelings.

You had noticed Merle's bad mood earlier in the day. He had been more impatient than usual, almost getting physical with Rick over virtually nothing and not even bothering to flirt with anyone which was… unusual to say at least. You actually liked the man and felt terrible for him, so you decided to try to cheer him up. You changed into a tank top and shorts (the most revealing clothes you owned) and headed towards Merle's cell.

You swept the fabric covering the doorway aside and peered inside.

"Hi, Merle", you greeted with a tiny smile.

"What do ya want", he grunted, barely looking at you.

"I just thought I'd stop by to see how you’re doing", you said without letting his cold attitude bother you. You had expected it.

"Like crap. And now ya know it, so ya might as well just fuck off."

You ignored his comment, sneaked in and climbed into Merle's lap. The man's expression changed from sulky to surprised.

"I don't think I will", you smiled gently and stroked his cheek.

"Where did this come from?" Merle asked but grabbed you by the hips anyway. He certainly wouldn't have shooed a beautiful girl away from his lap, no matter how pissed off he was.

"You've obviously had a bad day and I was hoping to cheer you up", you purred, pressing a kiss to his forehead. "I think you really need it."

“Ain’t gonna argue with ya on that. So, what ya had in mind?” He sounded a bit interested now.

“You’ll see.”

With that, you began to slowly rock your hips against him and grinned as he sighed and gripped you tighter.

"Fuck", he let out as you bit your lip seductively with twinkling eyes.

Merle was getting hard real fast, and you felt it. His cock pressed against his pants and your movements made him even harder. He started talking dirty in his usual way, and you couldn't help the heat rising to your cheeks as you got turned on too. Merle really had his way with words, and you totally loved it.

“Yeah, that’s it, good girl”, he murmured, massaging your ass with his good hand.

You grinned involuntarily, and though you could have listened to him all day, you soon moved away from Merle's lap.

"Hey", he started to protest before realizing you were reaching down to undo the belt of his pants.

“You thought I’m just gonna leave you like this”, you giggled while working with the belt and after it was open, moved to the button.

“Well… Kinda”, he admitted.

“Oh, come on! I’m not that cruel.”

“Fine, I’m sorry.”

You giggled again, and pushed down his pants, which he fortunately helped you with. When his cock was freed, all you did for a moment was to stare at it. It was... beautiful. Perfectly shaped and sized, its head already reddish from arousal. You smirked, settled down next to him with your leg over one of his thighs and kissed his neck while teasingly sliding your fingers along his length. Merle moaned as your fingers reached the tip and gently swirled your palm over it.

“Oh fuck”, he grunted, grabbing your waist just to hold on to something.

You ran your fingers up and down his length a few more times before gently squeezing his balls and then moving on to caress his inner thighs and lower belly, pushing his shirt up. For a moment he just enjoyed it but soon he became restless. He wanted more than you were giving him.

"Please", Merle groaned when you just brushed his cock as you moved your hand from his torso back to his thighs.

"You have to be patient", you smirked.

“Fuck, please”, he repeated, precum already leaking off the tip of his cock. He had been touch-starved for way too long and your gentle cuddles were honestly enough to make him almost painfully hard. “Be good to ol’ Merle now…”

You smirked again, and finally wrapped your fingers around his length, starting to stroke it slowly.

“Ahh, yeah…”, Merle grunted, letting his eyes fall shut. “Yer doing so good…”

His praises flushed over you as a warm wave of pleasure, and you replied by kissing his neck again. A bit silly, maybe, but you didn’t seem to be able to keep your lips away from his warm skin.

And when you swirled your palm over the tip of his cock, Merle bucked his hips into your hand and gasped. And he couldn’t stop even when you switched back to just stroking his cock. Your pussy clenched at the sight. You were horny as hell too, and he was so cute like this, all blushed and breathless. And you kept jerking him off, sometimes leaving his cock alone for a while and moving down to play with his balls. Even though Merle was normally acting tough, he had totally surrendered to you, downright craving your touch. And you gave him everything you got.

“You’re so cute, you know”, you cooed. “Good enough to eat, in fact.”

Merle gasped at your words, his eyes flying open as you got up and dropped on the floor to your knees. He quickly moved to the edge of the bed and sighed when your lips closed around the tip of his cock.

“Yer way too good for me”, he groaned as your tongue swirled around the tip.

“Shh, just enjoy”, you stated and then took him back into your mouth.

You massaged his balls or caressed his belly and sides while you sucked him off, and it didn't take long before he was a breathless mess in your hands. Sometimes you pressed kisses to his pelvic area, making him moan every time. He was probably so loud that others could hear you, but neither of you cared.

"I'm close", he soon whined.

You let his cock out of your mouth and switched back to your hands.

“Yeah? Then come for me, hun”, you urged. “Just let it happen…”

Merle's hips bucked and he tensed, his head falling back and a deep groan escaped his throat. His cock twitched in your hands as he finally climaxed, his cum landing on your hands and his belly. He collapsed on his bed, eyes closed and gasping for air. You climbed back into the bed next to him and pulled him into a kiss that he was barely able to answer.

“You feel any better now?” You asked and he could tell from your tone that you were smiling. He was so tired though that he only nodded, not even opening his eyes.

“That’s good.” Your voice was soft and he almost shivered at the sound of it.

You continued to caress him until his breathing had evened out.

“You’re such a good boy”, you whispered, despite feeling a bit strange to say something like it to a man much older than you. But the smile on Merle’s lips was enough to convince you that you had done the right thing.

#merle dixon #merle dixon x reader #merle x reader #the walking dead #twd #smut

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