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concreteburialplot · 6 months

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Delicate Beginning Rush

pairing: nicholas ruffilo x fem!reader

masterlist: here | crossposted; ao3 | word count: 4.8k

warnings: alcohol, fluff??? who am i ????¿, shy nerdy nicholas, awkward fumbling drunk sex, oral (f receiving), mutual masturbation, nick has a big massive fat-, cum play ??, subby nick if you squint, reader doesn’t know anything about star wars / pop culture ? lol, au; college omens, 18+ MDNI

summary; your friend drags you to a house party you never wanted to be at but end up being grateful when a cute shy boy changes the course of your night

a/n: this is a work of fiction, don't like it don't read it. don’t be mean for no reason & let others enjoy things thnx :)

Around you rages a random college house party that your roommate dragged you to. The house itself was huge and almost dollhouse-like. You weren’t sure who’s party it was or who all lived there, all you did know was that your friend was on a mission. You’ve met the group of boys your friend was interested in a couple times. She’s been trying to get with one… or two of them? You aren’t quite sure anymore. But they were some boys from your English class that happened to be in a band – at least that’s what you’d gathered with various random study dates with them. They were chill, but you could tell that they were mostly interested in your roommate. At least that’s what it seemed like, with the way they’d usually only pay mind to her while you’d be working on assignments.

But now, you sit on the kitchen counter of this giant house with a raven-haired tattooed boy standing between your legs. You both are tipsy, giggly messes.

Your hands intertwined with his and playfully sway back and forth at his sides; the warm alcohol running through your veins makes you both more touchy-feely than normal. The drink coats your body in a tingly warmth.

“How come I didn’t know you were so funny huh?” You nudge his shoulder with the right set of your connected hands. Your fingers slip from the hold and brings the plastic cup full of neon blue to your lips. You take a sip looking up at him through glassy eyes over the white ridge of the cup. The sickeningly sweet beverage burns your throat with at least 3 different liquors mixed.

His tan cheeks are tinted peachy pink from the alcohol and a sweet smile tugs at his lips. “I don’t know.” He shrugs and takes a sip of his own drink. “I don’t really talk much I guess.”

Which was true. Now thinking about it, in all your group hangouts he was mostly silent, only speaking when spoken to. The other three boys were loud and quite talkative. Especially the two your roommate was pining after, both with long hair and one with an accent. It really depended on the day which she was leaning towards more. Tonight, it was Jolly, the one with the accent.

“Yeah, I noticed that.” You say softly, “But you seem much more talkative now with some of…” You hold up the horrid concoction you were given, “Whatever this is.”

He smiles, “Yeah, I guess it helps me out of my shell a little.”

It seemed to help him out of his shell a lot, with him talking to you for the past hour and making you laugh harder than you had in a while. You barely even knew what his voice sounded like before tonight. But you found that you really enjoyed it, it was deep and raspy but upticks when he’s excited about something. It swirls a flurry of butterflies in your tummy that you write off as just the alcohol’s doing.

“Well, I quite like you out of your shell Nicholas.” You beam sitting up. One arm wrapping around your own midsection and the other feeding more sips of drink to your mouth. You find the edges of your lips curling at how the blue liquid tinted the inside of his lips. You wonder if the stain on his mouth tastes just as sweet as the drink.

A blush coats his cheeks, and his eyes fall to his cup, “Oh, you can call me Nick.”

“Alright, Nick.” You grin and take the last sip of your drink. “You know it’s awfully loud in here.” You use a tried-and-true line.

“Oh, well, we could um,” He knocks back the last of his own drink. “We could go up to my room?” He offers kindly.

Hook.

Line.

Sinker.

“Sure, I think that’s a great idea.”

You hop off the counter and he takes your hand, weaving you through the crowded party and up the stairs. He pulls you into his room, the second door to the right. The room was cleaner and more decorated than you’d expect from a random college boy.

Your eyes wander across the shelves of figurines, books, and posters on the walls. It was all quite… “nerdy”, the only thing you could really recognize was Star Wars while the rest just seemed like miscellaneous anime memorabilia. It didn’t make it any less pretty or interesting, quite the opposite, you were awestruck.

Another wall was covered in framed records that hung above a bookshelf filled with vinyls and topped with a record player. Your gaze flows down to where propped guitars litter the floor.

“It’s lame I know.” He scratches the back of his neck with a subtle embarrassment on his face.

The mandatory college boy light strips around the room were set to purple and moving the light in a pattern – alternating between blocks of bright violent and dim violet. Your eyes followed the blocks as they trailed along the ceiling. The light strips and a warm yellow lamp on his night were the only sources of illumination.

“No, no.” Your eyes finally land on Nick again. “I think it’s really cool.”

He chuckles and shakes his head, “No, it’s definitely not that.”

“Most boys’ rooms are bare with a mattress on the floor. Your room is so full of personality… and you have a bed frame.” You laugh. “It’s cool. I promise.”

The more you looked at his personality-filled room, the more you wondered how he kept all of this contained. You would’ve never guessed this is what his room would look like. But you sure were happy you were found out.

“Well, I’m glad you think so.” He says and sort of shifts on his heels. He picks up some random fidget toy and begins playing with it, it’s obvious he’s a little nervous.

You carefully sat on the bed, making sure not to disrupt the nicely made sheets.

“I don’t know anything about that stuff.” You say naively. You’ve been around enough nerdy boys to know that always gets them going.

“Of what? Star Wars?” His glassy eyes grow wide and shocked.

You giggle at his reaction, “Yeah, any of it really. Like all this stuff in here. Except the music, obviously.”

“No way.” He scoffs. “There’s no way you’ve never even seen one Star Wars movie?”

“Nope.” You lift your shoulders to a shrug, “But I’m sure you’re about to tell me about it.”

“Well, I mean, it’s only my civil duty to inform you about them.” The edge of his mouth pulls into a playful grin.

You bite down on your lip to stifle another liquor-soaked giggle. “Alright. Well, let’s hear it then.”

The way the corners of his lips curl directly into his cheekbones is so adorable you don’t even mind that he’s derailed your mission of hooking up. You pull yourself further back into his bed making room for him.

“Okay, so.” He says excitedly with an uptick in his voice and scrambles to sit next to you on the bed. He takes an inhale before beginning to speak, almost like he doesn’t even know where to start.

Even though you were originally in this for something completely different, now you don’t mind just sitting here and listening to him excitedly talk about … whatever he’s talking about.

You let him drunkenly ramble without interrupting him, nodding at any points he was making. He lost you fairly early on, when he started to explain how the movies are chronologically not in order or something along those lines. But that didn’t stop you from just listening to him speak or admire how animated he got with his hands while explaining things.

He was just so cute – the way when he smiled, really smiled, it lit up his whole face. This smile reached his eyes, lighting them up with so much life. This was the first time you really noticed his eyes, with the purple lights reflecting in them you couldn’t even tell what color they truly were – they looked grey, then blue, then green all at once. When you were really lost in them is when he caught you.

He reeled his arms back to his body, giving you a little embarrassed smile. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to talk so much.” His gaze fell before bashfully meeting you again.

“No, no, no.” You quickly answer, immediately feeling guilty for not paying enough attention. “I liked listening to you.”

“Oh, you don’t gotta say that.” A light pink coats his cheeks before his eyes fall to his fiddling fingers. “I’m used to it. Most people don’t tend to listen to me anyway.”

Your chest twists at the thought of anyone ever making him feel unheard or ignored.

“Hey, no.” You reach between you and grab his wrist, then meet his eyes. “I was listening to you. I really like hearing you talk. Okay? You can keep going if you want.”

He blushes a little more and gives a small nod. “Okay.”

He continues on some tangent he left hanging, and you return to your place with your chin on your palm supported by an elbow to your knee.

You didn’t lie, you really do like listening to him – you said nothing about understanding anything he said. Especially with how fuzzy your head is right now, you don’t understand a single word he’s saying. All you can pay attention to is the smooth waves of his cadence and his adorable mannerisms.

He pauses and chuckles nervously, “What? Did I lose you again?”

The edges of your lips curl up, and you shake your head.

“No.” You hum and press your lips together as you reach up to tuck some hair behind his ear. “I’m just wondering if you tell every girl you bring up here about Star Wars.” You giggle.

He nearly scoffs at even the idea. “No, definitely not.” He reaches up to scratch his arm “Mostly because I never really bring anyone up here. I usually stay here during their parties. They’re not really my thing.” He shrugs and fidgets with his thumbs as he speaks, transfixed on them while occasionally looking up to meet your eyes. “I don’t really like the loud music, or the people… or the alcohol usually. Really none of it is for me.”

“Well, I’m really glad you were down there tonight.” You smile sweetly, just admiring how pretty and delicate he is. You move your hand just a bit forward so that the tips of your fingers interlace with his and lean towards him.

A shy grin spreads across his lips, “Yeah me too.” He replies softly while matching your actions and moving closer to you. His eyes dart from your eyes to your lips and you can’t help but mirror it. His lips were perfect and plump and all you wanted to do was be on them.

From all the pieces of him you’ve gathered tonight, it’s easy to assume that he’s probably pretty anxious and can’t read social cues that well. So, you decide to spell it out for him.

“I want you to kiss me, Nick.” You breathe into the gap between your lips.

He gives you a quick but urgent nod before softly crashing his lips into yours.

The kiss ignites sparks all over your body, firecrackers exploding within each cell. Your hand finds his cheek to pull him in closer. His tongue swipes across your bottom lip asking for entrance and you oblige without a second thought.

His tongue hesitantly flicks at yours which begins a playful dance between them. It’s not rough or dominance-seeking, it’s needy and soft.

You tangle both hands into his long long locks and lean back on his bed, pulling him on top of you between your legs without ever breaking the kiss.

He’s so gentle with you. His hands stationed at each end of your body, one soft on your face and the other resting tenderly on your side. His tongue was skillful but mellow, just enjoying the kiss with you. It’s not often a guy wants to take his time and not rush, but he didn’t seem to mind, in fact, he was setting the pace.

It’s exciting and delicious all at once.

Your hand meets his face to bring him even closer before reaching up and tangling your fingers into his dark hair again. His scent fills your nostrils and it’s something woodsy and… spicy? Sweet, but peppery. The smell of his cologne goes straight down between your legs and worsens the throbbing there.

You continue the lazy kissing but take the lead again and slowly guide his hand to your tit, letting him know that it’s okay to touch you. He doesn’t need much convincing; his hand begins needing the soft tissue of your breast over thin t-shirt fabric. His fingertips lightly pinch your pebbled nipple. You can’t help but let out a tiny whine into his mouth.

You’re reminded of just how drunk you are when your numbed fingertips trail down his shirt to his belt and fumble with it. You struggle with the button and the zipper, but you finally reach his hardening cock. He lets out a small groan once you start palming him over his boxers. While you can’t even see it, you can tell it’s big – which surprises you, especially with his shy demeanor and the tight-ass pants he usually wears.

He follows suit, letting his hand trail down your side until it’s between your thighs beneath your skirt, running a finger between your panty-covered lips. You moan into the kiss; you need him like air – more than just his finger over cotton.

Since he seems to base his actions and pace on yours, probably out of courtesy to make sure he’s not crossing any lines, you dip your hand past the wide band of his boxer briefs. His cock is thick and heavy in your hand as you begin pumping him within his boxers.

It works, he dips into your panties and lets his fingers explore you. He rounds your clit nearly causing your entire body to convulse. Then he slowly brings them down to your entrance which makes you immediately roll your hips up towards his hand – your core aching to have something, anything inside you. A louder moan escapes once you feel two fingers slip inside you.

You pump his large member in your hand, and you can feel his pulse in it. The walls around his fingers tighten once he starts rutting into your fist – he needs you just as badly. You break the kiss, and your chests rise and fall rapidly together. He doesn’t pull away, instead, he presses his forehead against yours.

“Jesus fucking christ you’re so fucking big.” You breathe out heavily between you two.

Pink flushes across his cheeks in the cutest way. “Thanks.” He replies shortly almost as if he’s ashamed to receive the compliment.

Your brows knit together and your head tilts to the side. “What’s wrong? I’m sorry if I-”

“No, no, it’s not that it’s just…” He presses his lips together for a moment. “It’s big.”

You chuckle, “I mean yeah, every guy says that right?”

“It’s just… I just don’t wanna hurt you.” He says sheepishly. “If you want to go further that is, of course.”

You watch him with a skeptical gaze trying to analyze his features to see if he’s joking but, he seems serious. Of course, he feels big in your hand, but you don’t have a full gauge of it – you can’t see it. Surely it can’t be that big. He’s probably just exaggerating. Regardless, you find it endearing that he’s so concerned about hurting you.

“I’m sure it’s fine.” You wave off the conversation because you enthusiastically want to get back to the journey you were on before.

His lips urgently find yours again and his fingers continue their plight inside you – two curling right into your sweet spot and his thumb rolling small circles into your swollen clit. You’re grateful for the loud party downstairs that masks some of the noises you’re making.

Your hand works on him at the same pace as his fingers do on you. Deep groans rumble in his chest and in the back of his throat.

Breathlessly, you pull from the kiss looking up at him like he’s a glass of water after a trek through the desert. “Fuck- I” A moan slips from you. “Fuck I need you. I need your cock.”

“Are you sure?” He asks and pulls away, “Because I–“

The pulsing in your core outweighs your patience and you hastily tug down his pants, letting his cock spring out fully.

Your eyes widen at his size. He wasn’t joking - he’s fucking massive. So massive in fact that it almost terrifies you and makes you question if it could even fit inside you. It’s almost as long as your arm and thicker than a can of RedBull.

Nick must’ve picked up on your fear because his cheeks grow rosy in embarrassment. “See. I told you.” He says dishearteningly. “It’s okay if you don’t want to try, I really understand. Just let me eat you instead?”

You blink at him, somewhat taken aback by the whole situation. As much as you wanted to try – and you really wanted to try, the worry of you both being too drunk to properly prep you was imminent and you really didn’t want to risk him hurting you.

“Okay…” You agree timidly. “Sure.”

He smiles seeming happy to just be able to make you feel good regardless. His lips meet yours again and repeat the same soft dance as earlier for a moment before beginning to pepper kisses down your body. First, your neck, giving you open-mouth kisses with an occasional suck. Then, down your torso and tummy until he’s finally between your legs. He swiftly slips your panties off.

His inked fingers help to spread you open, using your own arousal to easily slide between your lips.

“So pretty.” He mumbles before diving in causing an abrupt whine from you at the sudden stimulation.

His lips and tongue work as delicately and meticulously between your folds as they did with your mouth. You could swear his tongue was made of some sort of magic from how good he was making you feel already. His tongue was masterful in how it would flatten and then curve around your swollen clit.

You peer down at him at work, and he was so beautiful, eating you like it was the only thing in the world that mattered. He must’ve felt your gaze on him because he looks up at you with lustful but sweet green-grey eyes. They make your breath hitch in your throat.

It was artistic how he’d move his tongue up and down in swirly wavy patterns serving you a perfect rhythm of stimulation then rest then repeat. Not too fast, not too slow, not too hard, not too light. His tongue was immaculate.

“Fuck Nick,” You groan, letting your head fall harshly back on the pillow and your hand dives into his hair again. “Fuck don’t stop, that feels so fucking good- Fuck.”

The knot in your tummy grew more with each twist of his tongue and when he started incorporating his fingers again, hitting just the right spot, you knew you were done for.

“God, fuck!” You moan out loudly, tugging at his roots and rutting your hips up into his mouth. The knot threatening to snap at any given flick of his tongue. “Fuck, fuck, Nick, fuck I’m gonna cum!”

He speeds his pace up ever so slightly, not enough to ruin your ride but just enough to push you over the edge. He even lets out a moan against your cunt letting you know that really fucking likes the way you’re reacting to him.

Your grip on his hair is tight and probably painful but the screams that leave your throat distract you from staying gentle. Your legs clamp around his head and your back arches from the bed as you release fully onto him. He groans deeply against you again, seemingly even more turned on than before.

He doesn’t stop, no matter how tight your legs suffocate him or how hard you pull at his hair. He doesn’t stop for a second. His speed is perfect, enough to keep you going but not enough to overstimulate you. He keeps you riding a delicate tightrope, stretching your climax out as far as he can.

Your tummy fills with rampant butterflies and a buzzing spreads across your skin as he gently carries you into another orgasm. Pleasure crashes into you like a tidal wave to shore. Every inch of your body reacts to him, bending to his skillful craft.

Screams erupt from the base of your throat, your body not able to contain the rush of euphoria that he’s sent you into. Your hips rut up into his mouth and your walls spasm around his fingers but he keeps his actions steady and consistent. His fingers curl and thrust into you harmoniously with his tongue, letting you ride out your high on his face.

You pat his head a bit to indicate you were done. He looks up at you so happy, so grateful to serve you. His eyes are bright and full of pride that he was able to make you feel that good.

He pulls away, revealing him working his still-hard cock in his hand. Watching him move his fist up and down his veiny shaft and roll around his head has you buzzing again. He slips his fingers from you and replaces his working hand with the one covered in your juices, using your orgasm as lubricant.

“Fuck.” He mumbles, his eyes still fixated on your dripping cunt.

Your hand slithers down between your legs and use two fingers to spread yourself open for him. His tongue swipes between his lips as you begin playing with yourself – dipping into your entrance to gather some arousal to bring up to your pulsing clit.

You bite down on your bottom lip while his hand speeds up on his member, the sight of it turning you on beyond belief – especially since he was using your slick to work himself. He pumps his member faster and faster, his chest heaving accordingly. You’re both transfixed on each other’s actions, just getting off at the sight of the other fucking themselves.

The head of his cock is so swollen and dark red and leaking precum. It’s massive and could probably fill your entire mouth if you were to suck him off. His hand grows erratic and sloppy as his other keeps him propped up on the bed.

You feel a 3rd climax creeping up on you, filling your bud with nerves begging for relief again. Your free hand slides up your torso to squeeze your breast, watching him start to unravel. Your fingers work precise circles around your nub, occasionally moving down into your entrance. You never knew how powerful it could feel watching a man get off on just the sight of you. You loved the way his eyes tracked your fingers, how they’d widen if you spread your folds for him, how his hand would speed up if you fucked yourself.

“F-fuck.” He mutters, letting himself rest down on his elbow. “Ah-uh- fuck, I’m gonna cum.”

He quickly lifts his shirt to reveal his tummy just before milky white ribbons decorate the tattoos there. His eyes flutter close, and his head lulls back as he works every bit of cum out of himself. His lips part slightly, letting delicious groans and whimpers pour from his mouth.

Thankfully, you’re just as close and his moans along with the sight of him coating himself in cum push you over the edge. Flashing white blinds your sight and your thighs clamp around your hand. Your fingers don’t stop moving until his hand does.

You ride out your highs together before your bodies relax back into the bed. You lay there breathless beside him, your chests rising and falling rhythmically. He hadn’t even fucked you but that was still some of the hottest sex you’d ever had. God, his tongue was nothing short of magical.

The silence between you both is awkward but endearing, unfamiliar but delicate. Your tummy fills with fluttering butterflies just at his proximity. Finding a guy who made you feel like this was the last thing you expected to happen tonight.

A chill from the air conditioning reminds you that you’re still bare from the waist down. Strawberry pink flushes your cheeks as you lower your skirt back down. He follows suit and tucks himself back into his boxers.

You nervously chuckle and go to speak but he starts at the same time as you. The blush on your cheek only worsens.

“Oh sorry I-“ You both fumble over each other’s words again.

“You go.” He offers.

“No, no you go.” You reply, motioning for him to speak.

He chuckles with his eyes adverting yours. “Um, sorry if – if, you didn’t want, erm, this.” Referencing his jerking off.

“No – no it was –“

“You just – you sounded so pretty.” He blurts out. “And you tasted so good… I just, got worked up.” His cheeks and the tip of his nose coated in a deep pink. “Sorry.”

You try to keep yourself from smiling too big because you find his embarrassment so cute.

“It’s okay. I liked it.” You reassure, and for some reason, it tints your cheeks too.

“You did?” He asks almost shocked.

“Mhm.” You reply, digging your teeth into your lip and nod. You liked it more than wanted to admit. “A lot.”

“Okay.” He nods bashfully. “I, um, I’m gonna clean up now. Can I get you anything?”

“Hmm, maybe a water when you’re done?”

“Okay.” He sits up a bit. “Um, do you mind just kind of, looking away?”

Your eyes furrow and your head tilts at him in confusion but you comply. “Sure.” You cover your eyes with your hands. “Why am I looking away?” You question, seeing as you just saw a lot of him.

He shifts in the bed, and you hear him slip his shirt off, probably to use it to clean up his mess.

“I don’t know. I just don’t like to be shirtless around people, I guess.” He answers shyly.

“Oh, I’m sure you look good!”

“No.” He scoffs adamantly, “Definitely not.”

“I don’t believe you.” You hum, wiggling a bit while still covering your eyes. “But I’ll take your word for… for now.”

You sense him get off the bed and open some drawers. After a few moments, he lets you know it’s okay to look again. You open your eyes to see that he’s changed into a graphic tee and a pair of shorts that have some kind of wolf design on them. He somehow looks even better than before.

He returns with two bottles of water, one for you and one for him. He shuts the bedroom door so gently like he’s trying not to wake anyone, as if there isn’t a raging party downstairs. He hands you a water bottle before he cracks his own open and takes a gulp.

“Thanks.” You say with a small smile. As you steal your first sip, you take note of his shirt. “Deft-tones?” You sound out the word trying to make out what it means. “Is that a band or something?”

The look that washes over his face as he’s drinking is pure shock and confusion. You may as well have told him you didn’t know who Mickey Mouse was. He abruptly pulls the bottle from his lips with furrowed brows, “You’ve never heard of Deftones?”

You press your lips together and shake your head, “Nope.”

“You’ve never watched Star Wars and you’ve never listened to Deftones? What rock have you been hiding under?” He teases.

“I don’t know, a heavy one I guess.” You giggle and give him a shrug.

“Oh man. If I wasn’t still so drunk right now, I’d play you something.” He laughs and sits on the bed beside you. “But anything I play right now is gonna sound like ass.”

“Oh, I highly doubt that.” You smirk and shake your head. You hadn’t heard his band play, but judging by how skilled his fingers were, he had to be good.

“No, no. It’s true. But you’ve gotta let me play something for you sometime.” His grin begins wide then shortens. “If you want that is.”

Right then, you couldn’t imagine anything you wanted more.

“I’d love that.”

tag list; i don't currently have a general tag list for all my fics so if you'd like to be added to that pls lmk!

a/n; thank you for reading if you did! i'm not that good at writing smut so sorry if it wasn't that great! i really enjoyed writing this one bc was just so fluffy and awkward and sweet, which is so different than anything else that i normally ever write LOL

Thank you for any support you guys ever give me on any of my works, it truly means the world to me that you guys enjoy my words and lil plots.

let me know if you liked it! i love hearing your thoughts 🩷

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brisquad-unit-4402 · 8 months

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"how do you kiss hard?" - ike eveland 2023

mike…

i swear i’m trying to do my requests i swear i swear it’s just that i keep hearing livers say things and that’s what gets the neurons firing for some reason

this entire fic is a joke if you know you know. and brother there's a lot to know

tags: gender neutral reader, established relationship(?), ike is in a pretentious mood but dw about it, it’s literally just a page of making out with ike lol

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Between two pages of his book, Ike snorts. His mouth curves up, barely visible between the paper, amusement before his expertise can kick in. When it does, his brows knit together while that pitying smile remains.

A hand rubs along the back of his shoulder while you look over it. “Someone’s being pretentious.”

Ike stifles his laugh this time. It sounds like he’s sniffing. “Can you blame me? This author has such a good mystery plot going on, but they write so many romance clichés it’s not even funny.” He scoots closer to you on the couch and points out the words. “Look at that. How do you ‘kiss hard?’”

“What, you haven’t kissed hard before?” You joke.

“Hard no.”

“Naaah, you’ve definitely done it before.”

“Really, now.” The book collapses on itself with Ike’s thumb marking his page. As he slides a bookmark in, he reflects your coy energy right back at you. “Care to elaborate?”

“Well, sure.” You slide next to him on the couch. Feeling a monologue coming along, Ike sets the book aside to give you his undivided attention, if not a little pompous. “A light kiss would be like this.”

It’s over as soon as it starts. You brush Ike’s messy, blue-toned hair out of the way so you can peck him on the forehead. The print of your lip eases the quirk out of his eyebrow.

He flashes a smile, still trying to keep that pompous air up. “I know what a light kiss is.”

“Great job, honey. Proud of you.” His hair falls back into place as your hand trails down his face. It oscillates between the jawline and the sweetened apple of his cheeks, sprouting blossoms as your thumb presses along his skin. “Now here’s what a hard kiss feels like.”

‘Whiplash’ would be an apt name for it. The peck—the light kiss—it was tender, and in a way, how you took to Ike next was tender as well, encompassing and boiling along, unable to hold yourself back from pouring over. Ike squeaks. A tiny whimper under your churning, lost in the steam. He runs raw under your lips as you gnaw and writhe under his skin. An uncontrollable heat sprouts from your mouth, the breath of a dragon, along trails of gasoline and wet lips that set him alight.

He whimpers again. The pressure is almost too much to bear, but how you clutch onto his shirt draws him back to your warmth. The fabric curls under your grasp, threatening to wrinkle, tugging on his shirt and exposing where his neck connects to collar and chest. Ike bends apart when you take the base of his neck and reach for his jaw again, just as greedy for reciprocation as you are for that uncovered skin. It must taste delicious underneath your lips. You want to see him jolt at the pressure and the teeth marks under a bite, turning an angry, lovey red that begs for more before he does.

But that’s a kiss for later, and this is a hard kiss now, and if it wasn’t obvious before this isn’t his first. He clings to you by your hips, the rise and fall of his fishnets distinct under his hands, growing rougher as the seconds go by. If the mesh leaves marks on his palms, then they would match the smattering against his lips. You attack fiendishly. There is no tact nor methodology. Only the urge to take him apart, and leave him clueless as you meld along his circuits. Quick bites and glazed tongues pry him open with embers weaved between.

Even with your warning the hard kiss took him by surprise, and now he recovers. What were once whimpers are now hidden moans between the open-mouthed kiss, but if you could hear them between the ruffling fabric and craving hands, that’s lost to you. It’s the lingering vibration deep in his throat instead that drives you to take him in further. You line his mouth with nips and prods, guiding him to lace his tongue through the corners, a needle to fabric stitched tight.

Thready hands drag out from the curve of your hips and soak in the shelf along the small of your back. The tangle of limbs knit closer, then meet, then tumble out along the cushions of the couch. It doesn’t interrupt even as you readjust over him, sewing your body on top while he lays pinned underneath you, fluffy hair like a halo on the cushions of the couch with shivers down his spine and a slithering, satisfied sigh that shakes as he keeps you connected to his lips.

Your shirt hem brushes along Ike’s knuckles as he squirms, slotting himself against you, stroking and savoring skin on skin. The rest of the shirt runs between his fingers as they splay out on your back. They crawl upward even as Ike’s eyes are sewn shut, committing each inch of skin and spine to memory while you’re all he can sense.

With your touch spread across him, Ike looks like ruin. You let go, but the collar of his shirt remains lopsided, and the way his collarbone connects to rounded shoulders steals your breath away. His hair is even messier than usual now that your fingers tousle through it.

Your tongue nurses over what syrupy pain you left behind. His lips are rubied under your glistening care. You bring him back to health with a thumb rubbing along his ear and the rest of your hand combing through ashy brown hair, candy on your tongue so addictive one hit couldn’t possibly be enough.

The seams come apart. Blearily, Ike’s eyes open; two strikes of green and gold shine under long, half-lidded lashes. With your mouths still pressed against each other, he’s so close you can see the subtle streaks of color in his eyes. The traces of disbelief and delight unrestrained.

In a final move, you purse your lips for one last taste. There’s a tiny smack in the air as your mouth separates from his.

Moving away is like swimming underwater. You push yourself up and get a good look at Ike as you come down, still pinned down with your arms on either side of his shoulders. His clothes are disheveled.

The air is thick, not with tension, but rather the weight of the hard kiss. You can still feel your chest rise and small pants from Ike as the both of you regain your breath. “Get it now?” You ask.

“Reader,” he says, out of breath but firm. “You know we’ve done this before.”

A smirk spreads across your face. “So I jogged your memory?”

“It never needed jogging in the first place.” He’s been pink this entire time, but now it seems like he’s shying away after all the heated kisses. He buries his head into a cushion that muffles his voice. “You know it was a style issue, right?”

“Hm?”

“It’s not like I didn’t know. It was just worded awkwardly in the book.”

The dots slowly connect. “The book. So…”

“‘Kissed really hard’,” Ike quotes. He laughs, and his uneven breaths make him sound all the more spellbound. “The author could’ve used so many better descriptors and settled on ‘kissed really hard’. That’s such a weak move.”

“Yeah.”

“Passionate, sensual, helpless.” He ticks off as he raises his head. He kisses your neck, neither light nor hard. Something new to explore. “Debauched.”

“Uh-huh…” Your mind goes blank. There’s no reason for him to kiss you like this. It’s all on his own terms, because he wants to, and being the center of his attention now just because has you going woozy. You may have bitten off more than you can chew.

“Poor guy. Doesn’t have a clue on what we have.” Another pulse along your neck. Ike thumbs along your nape, a soothing gesture under short kisses growing rougher. He quotes the rest of the passage he showed you. “'Amy kissed Sonic so hard that he was thinking “Let's have sex” but he didn't say it because the teacher would show up by the time they started to have sex in History class. Sonic kissed back really hard and it was sexy to everyone.' I mean, seriously? His gay balls are the least of his problems.”

.　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆

✧. ┊ ⁭masterpost ✧. ┊ ⁭kofi ✧. ┊lol sonic high school reference

#ike eveland #ike eveland x reader #ike eveland fluff #luxiem x reader #luxiem #nijisanji x reader #nijisanji en #4402 writes #out of everything i've written this is truly the velocipastor of my fics #also sorry i have a pattern of posting whenever it's a bad time for the fandom?#all i can say is #once again this is what mysta would've wanted

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pickled-flowers · 2 months

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Rereading the Mysqueery Gang and like. Who let me post this. Worst writing I've ever done like heck I'm so sorry to all my readers i should have been better 😭 these kids deserve a better story

#cringing so bad like oof #good ideas! good concepts! terrible execution #this is why i havent continued it from where i left off #if im ever to pick this project back up #i would need to redraw and rewrite the whole thing #at the end of the day i was 18 😭 my brain was NOT developed enough #the dialogues....... they are so flat like kdjfkshdisbfjdhsibdjdbc #I have to trust my writing is better now 😭😭😭😭 because BOOOOOOOOO #anyways once more im so sorry to all the people who were readers im so very thankful for you all #one day!!! one day theyll live again #and ill put them through so much you will no recognize them #ive had the time to listen to tma since then ok #also i made them swear so much #its because thats how i speak 😔 ive got a nasty mouth sorry #the story is still the same in my mind tho like i still have the ending ready

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atticcreationz · 4 months

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[Ruth is talking to Brooke at her locker, then the bell rings, and Ruth runs over to join Richie and Pete on the way to class, blushing]

RICHIE: Ruth, is that a ~spark~ I detect between you and Brooke?

RUTH: maybe 😏 I get all warm and fuzzy when I talk to her...!

PETE: uh, that might just be the fires

[all three turn around to see Brooke setting her own locker ablaze]

#nerdy prudes must die #once again: i think ruth should get to have a very short flirtatious relationship with brooke as a treat #she deserves it #(and then call the fire brigade)#every time i have fanart i want to draw and get sad that i dont have time and/or am im in too much pain to sit down and draw it i say hey #write it down instead baby you dont have to draw it #write down the silly things so theyre not bouncing around in your head #on a related note some rambling thoughts #im trying to get comfy writing more than drawing - i always felt nervous writing since college and always thought i was bad at it #but a) fuck it and b) its been a nice compromise between my urge to draw and my sadness at how im too in pain to draw on my own time anymore #and some friends have been incredibly nice and encouraging about small things ive written recently and i cant even theyre so kind 😭✨#anyways back to the regularly scheduled tags sorry #starkid #team starkid #ruth fleming #brooke npmd #npmd #starkid npmd #richie lipschitz #peter spankoffski

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dichromaticdyke · 5 months

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Fic request/AU: Toki never auditioned for Dethklok and it’s always been a one guitar band and they are still world famous and wildly successful.

One night Skwisgaar hears something in the studio to find a spy has broken in! The spy who calls himself Toki is cornered and Skwisgaar takes the interrogation into his own hands to determine who this spy is and what he wants.

i wasn't sure where to take this, but you accidentally inspired a perfect concept in our dms.

With a sudden intake of breath, Skwisgaar snapped awake, still clutching his guitar in one hand and a notepad of scribbled tabs in another. This wasn't the first time he had fallen asleep in the studio while working on new Dethklok songs by himself, and he was certain it wouldn't be the last. Nathan and Pickles pulled their weight fine enough, but William was far too willing to get complacent with his own output. At times like this, he wondered if he should have let Dethklok become a two-guitar band.

He stretched his arms over his head, eager to get back to his firm bed that would, hopefully, realign his spine after it had been bent over the desk for the better part of eight hours. In doing so, he caught sight of something in the corner of his eye. He tightened his grip on the neck of his guitar—he wasn't normally wary of intruders, knowing full well that Klokateers had methods of keeping them out, but that didn't stop his instinctual worry.

As he stood, he heard a slight high-pitched noise, almost like a yelp, coming from behind a few stereo speakers. He charged in the direction of it, his guitar held high above his head. Behind the speakers, he saw, was a man—a man with long brown hair and white and black face paint on.

"Jeg beklager!" the man cried as Skwisgaar cornered him. "Jeg beklager!"

Skwisgaar sneered, slowly lowering his guitar. "Norska?" he asked.

The man nodded, hesitantly.

"Eugh." Great. If there was one group of people he hated more than the Danish, it was the Norwegians.

"I didn't mean to scare you," the man continued in Norwegian. "I just—I had to—"

"This is a secure compound," Skwisgaar told him in Swedish. "No one should be here—especially not Norwegian black metal wannabes."

"I'm not a wannabe!" The man crossed his arms over his chest. "My name is Toki Wartooth, and I'm the lead guitarist of Horse's Dick!"

Skwisgaar grimaced at the name. "I'm sure it sounds like dildos. How hard could it be to be a black metal lead guitarist?" he asked with an eye roll. "Don't you have a church to burn down or something? Get out of here."

"No!" Toki grabbed onto Skwisgaar's wrist. "I came all this way!"

"For what? Want to burn down Mordhaus, too? You have about five seconds before I call the Klokateers here to have you killed."

"I can't tell you why I'm here..." Toki looked down at his feet, not releasing his grip on Skwisgaar.

While he did seem significantly younger than him, and a bit shorter, Skwisgaar could tell just from the faint outline of his shirt that this man was jacked. If Skwisgaar tried to get physical with him, he was sure he would lose.

And truthfully, he didn't have his Dethphone on him. He couldn't contact the Klokateers fast enough. He would have to get this Toki guy out of here on his own.

So, he feigned interest. "Whatever it is you wanted, I can't give it to you if you don't tell me," he said.

Toki frowned. "Well, my bandmate—his name is Runke Snogge—he doesn't like digital music. He hates Dethklok. But I heard you had a new analog recording format..." He trailed off, looking down before finally letting Skwisgaar go.

It was making sense now. He wanted to find a way to record his dildo black metal records onto water. He wanted to scoff at this idea, tell Toki that the highly complicated and expensive technology it took to produce HEARD wasn't something to be wasted on his stupid amateur music. Instead, he deflected: "Water records can only be recorded in Mordhaus. You don't even have a guitar or your friend."

"Yes I do." Toki pointed past Skwisgaar, who turned his head. Against the wall, near the door to the studio, was a haphazardly duct-taped Flying V guitar. "I was gonna try to record some of my tracks...but you were here..."

Skwisgaar sighed. This man was just so pathetically earnest, wasn't he? "Even still, without your friend, you won't be able to record your songs on water—"

"He's outside."

Skwisgaar narrowed his eyes. "What."

"He's outside. He didn't want me to come all this way by myself. He's waiting for me... Damn it, I should go."

And this time, as Toki made to leave, it was Skwisgaar's turn to grab his wrist and stop him. "Wait." He cursed himself for what he was about to do. "Just...wait ten minutes."

Dick Knubbler let out a yawn as Skwisgaar begrudgingly gave him a cup of coffee. "Alright babes, you ready?" he asked. Skwisgaar had been lucky that Dick hadn't been too far from Mordhaus at the time of his call, though he did wish that the man had slept in...well, any kind of clothing. Lending him his own robe was another sacrifice he was making tonight.

"Readies!" Toki said, his guitar strapped over his shoulder and plugged into the amps of the recording booth.

"Readies," the man known as Runke said, notably less excited than Toki.

Dick hit record, and the two Norwegians inside the recording booth began to record their first song: "Release Me from Conservative Hell." As they played, Dick swiveled in his chair to face Skwisgaar. "You know, the other boys aren't gonna be happy about this."

"Ja, I knows." Skwisgaar finished his own cup of coffee in one prolonged gulp.

"And you certainly don't let anyone else use the recording booth. What's this about?"

"Nothings."

Dick smirked, peaking over his shoulder at Hestkuk. Toki was in the middle of playing an agonizingly slow chord while Runke shrieked some nonsense about hating his life, or whatever. "Norwegian men are kinda cute, aren't they, babe?"

"I's has you killeds too, Knubbler."

#ask.mj #nyoomkitty #Metalocalypse #fanfic #Skwisgaar Skwigelf #Toki Wartooth #skwistok #if you squint but also kind of always in canon yknow?#nyoom when you said “friendship ended with skwisgaar skwigelf now runke snogge is my best friend” the idea hit me #the sleeper has awakened #also fun fact we already know norwegian and swedish are sister languages and have a lot of words that mean the same in both of them #hestkuk is one of them so i thought it would be funnier to write the translation out while they're speaking in their native languages #and once again endings are hard any i've had the worst headache for hours so if this is bad i'm SORRY i'm not proofreading it #Dick Knubbler #Runke Snogge #made by mj

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good-beanswrites · 7 months

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My translyrics for Salamander, written out under the cut :D

This one was much more difficult than the last, but I'm still very satisfied with it! 😤 I'm both sad that my version lost a lot of the fun soundplay of the original, and also waaay more impressed with the lyrics and vocals after digging it like this! I tried to keep it balanced between the original and Fuuta's version, though maybe it ended up leaning more toward the cover, idk. Leaving my specific notes in the tags 👍

Salamander~ Hot's nice, don't you agree? This pa- passion's fine, see?

"But" isn't what I wanna hear, so say "more" loud and clear.

It's heating up all through my mind when I'm with you.

I want a taste, but all this spice may prove more than I can take, (eh?)

Something's on your mind. So spit it out and tell me, don't waste my time, kay?

I'm hooked on this, pass me a dish.

The way I'm starving here without you -- it's a crime

A spicy treat, put on repeat,

Can I get seconds with the same heat? One more time!

Salamander~ Hot's nice, don't you agree? This pa- passion's fine, see?

"But" isn't what I wanna hear, so say "more" loud and clear.

It's heating up all through my mind when I'm with you.

I can't stop anything, although I wouldn't want to stop, oh no --

Take a breath, it's best to cool down or you earn yourself a burn.

I want a bite, I can't help giving in to this new appetite.

Again, again, I want to be on fire when I get to the end.

We live too fast, we burn to ash,

I never handled spices well and it's a crime.

A spicy treat, put on repeat,

Can I get seconds with the same heat? One more time!

I want to burn bright red

Salamander~ Hot's nice, don't you agree? This pa- passion's fine, see?

"But" isn't what I wanna hear, so say "more" loud and clear.

Tell me I'm not alone in my mind!

Salamander~ Look what's happened to me. This pa- passion's crazy

Tell me I'm not delirious, I'm being serious.

It's heating up all through my mind when I'm with you.

I can't stop anything, although I wouldn't want to stop, oh no --

Take a breath, it's best to cool down or you earn yourself a burn.

I want to leave I want to go, but I can never stop, oh no --

Take a breath, it's best to cool down or you earn yourself a burn.

#milgram #fuuta kajiyama #deco*27 #this time i can confidently say this is my fav milgram song lmao #literally the hardest line of the whole song was the very first one #still not 100% satisfied but compared to my dozens of draft lines its pretty good #i really wanted the 'po's to be within a word like the original and went digging through so many words with the sound in the middle LMAO #i wanted something focused more on heat/spice but alas it had to be passion -_-#there was very little space to get across the idea of 'its not a big deal right?' so i hope 'fine' conveys what i want it to hmm...#forever missing the sound of 'ripiccha itai/ piriccha itai' but the treat/repeat lines still worked out well!#so mad english doesnt have a nice onomatopoeia like 'fuu' :(#i needed to keep the long u to finish of the first stanza the long o in a few lines -- i absolutely love how arthur lounsbery sings those #my ace ass appreciates his commitment to singing such a steamy song so harsh and turning the seductive whispers into angry grumbling 😂#me too man #the struggle of trying to write fun food lines and going 'oh NO that sounds even dirtier now' 😭😭😭#i actually did record myself singing and i knew it was gonna be bad but it was Really Awful adsfdsfd so sorry #just take my word for it!!! it all works perfectly!!!#(once again if anyone wants to cover it hmu hehe :3)#oops spelled delirious wrong in my chart shhhhhh #lyrics

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lucyvsky · 6 months

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they should let me kill myself instead of writing poetry

#ESPECIALLY POETRY WITH A STRUCTURE. for class by the way. i loooooove reading poetry but i cant write it.#and liek. god i just cannot. right now. AND THE TOPIC IS HORRIBLE AND BAD. sorry everyone once again love poetry i carry around my poetry #books and kiss them everyday but fuck my entire gay life #much love and awe to everyone who writes poetry do oyu guys kno i think youre the coolest people alive

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cerise-on-top · 2 months

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hi there! I was wondering if you could write how Farah would react if the reader got hurt because she's the commander of the ULF?

(Btw you are feeding the Farah lovers! Remember to take breaks and such if needed! 💞💞)

Hello! I'm glad to hear that! I do love writing for the girls, after all! I love them dearly and I'm glad you all do too! And I will take breaks if I need them, don't worry!

Reader got Hurt Because of Farah

I think that, although Farah is a very reasonable person and always uses her head instead of her heart, you getting hurt would be one of the few times where she would act out of emotions rather than rational thought. She can’t usually afford such a thing, no matter how distressed she may be, so it basically never happens. But the person who hurt you will come to regret ever getting close to you. She won’t go after them guns blazing, no, she’s way too smart for that. But that person will be dealt with, either immediately or after a while. Farah doesn’t forget, her memory is far too good for that. If she can see your attackers face, good. That way she can either immediately go after them or track them down by memory alone. But if she can’t see it then she’ll spare no expense in finding out who it may have been. It might take a while, but she’ll get her revenge. In fact, you getting hurt would be another big reason for her to fight her war for peace, because in her ideal world, no one gets hurt. Not you, not her brothers or sisters. However, whoever hurt you won’t live to see such a utopia. Farah won’t torture them, but she’ll make quick work of whoever they may be so that they won’t hurt anyone else near and dear to her. But of course, all of this goes once she’s certain you’re alright. Farah will call the best medics she has to make sure you’ll make it, that you’ll end up in as little pain as possible during your recovery. She won’t particularly have the time to be by your side throughout it all, but she’ll come visit you whenever she can, maybe even bringing you a recovery gift or two in the process. Always has someone check up on you. Someone she trusts will come in every once in a while and ask you how you’re doing to give her a report on your status. Yes, she may be on the frontlines fighting a war, but she always needs to know how you’re doing or else she’ll get even more nervous than she should be.

#cod #cod x reader #farah karim #farah karim x reader #the cod women lovers seem to have found me and liked me enough to want to request something from me. lovely #I am once again really tired today. work was rough and I ate some fried calamari today. the portion was so big and I'm stuffed #now I'm super tired but I have to wait until 21:20 until I can go to bed #at the time I'm writing this it's roughly 17:00 so I still have to pass a lot of time until I can finally sleep #anyway I don't have much to say as of right now #might mess around and finish the other two requests I have in my inbox today so some time will pass #I never would have thought I'd ever get into CoD but here I am and I am enjoying myself greatly #it never occurred to me before that it might have a storyline. and now I've been writing for that silly game for roughly two months now #time really does fly by. I got into it last summer actually so I haven't been a fan for too long #it's been fun. I got back into writing. but I only lost my writing spark because of vocational school. vocational school sucks so bad #had no time whatsoever for anything. had to study the entire time and had no time for my hobbies #god I'm looking forward to my apprenticeship leave exam so i never have to go there again #but enough about me on this post. sorry!

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redhotarsenic · 7 months

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Okay so I’m gonna be really annoying about Art in a minute sorryyyyyy

#large post incoming!#maybe!#I don’t know if I’m actually gonna post it I’m Shy you see #I have to talk about this real bad #I can feel it sitting heavily in my brain I have to let it out #I’ll write it down to get it out of my head #sorry once again!!

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milkteamoon · 7 months

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Over 80 pgs (and counting) of fic to edit in my wip doc 👍 but we stay silly

#feeling a lil bad bc I haven't posted something in like 3 months but trust me im in the kitchen cooking #just gotta finish my proposal first and then I'm gettin to work #sorry to only ever talk about fic writing only my fandom fic writing blog. it will happen again #anyway #should I take the cowards route and break this into chapters or just release it to the world at once #milk talks

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kiwibirdlafayette · 10 months

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I’ve keep thinking about one of your tags, specifically the “self fulfilling prophecy a display of a true role of an ianitee” and I would love for you to go into that!

if I may, I’d like to give my understanding of that and you can tell me how far off base it is.

With Redbeard it’s him thinking something will always go wrong around him whether he causes it or not. He chalks it up to his “natural unluckiness” and puts little effort to fox said issues. If we go to Capsize’s death, she gets threatened and he stands and does little to stop it. He crashes the first airship and brushes it off, he actively heavily drinks during the mission, like he for some of it causes his own misfortune.

For Jordan, it’s being alone within his faith. (This one I’m a bit shakey on cause I don’t think I have a good footing when it comes to his character.) He wants community but he does not find it with the pirates. Specifically with Capsize. Back to Capsizes death, he also doesn’t jump in to stop Furia from killing Capsize. Both Andor and Capsize end up getting imprisoned in-front of the group, although the reason why is different (to my memory) he doesn’t jump in to save either. He does find community with Andor though! But he’s now separated from him, so once again he’s alone.

Idk what Spark or Capsizes problem is, wish I did though. They probably have tons.

OH ok im sorry Im so late in responding Im gonna be honest. I completely forgot initially what I was thinking about when I made that tag but its finally come back to me ok. ok.

Basically what I think I was referring to in the concept of a 'self fufilling propechy; filling the role of an ianitee" is the kind of idea that champions of Ianite, or gods in general are tied to their deity in not just a follower kind of way, but like in a metaphysical manner- like where the principle of whomever they end up following are somewhat built into their characterization, and in the way worked into the fibers of their soul. Its present with the other gods/followers but its really interesting with the ianitees I think.

It may not necessarily be intentional or conscious on the part of the follower but essentially their morals, actions and the foundations of relationships are centered around what aspects the god stands for, and sort of act like a compass for them. So like in Capsize's case, I had interpreted Cat's post as like even though Capsize was born the "luckier" of the twins- aside from her name being that of a literal disaster- a lot of her actions to me take on a very heavy kine selflessness, putting herself at risk for like Red, doing things that would put her in a place of misfortune almost as a protective maneuver for others which I could almost call to be her fatal flaw. She has to be balanced in nature somehow to counter feeling like she's stolen Red's luck (from Cat's post, that line is driving me nuts in the best way), and that's how she does it.

And like, what you were saying with Jordan, his seeking of balance comes in surface level playing mediator between Tom and Tucker but like in a subconscious way (at least how i interpret it haha) its more got to do with yeah, like community. Jordan, as a character to me is very tied to the idea of home/closeness/familiarity, which ties into the lighthouse metaphor I like to cite between him and Tom (essay for another day before I go on yet another tangent), and his evolving relationship with the others over the course of the series. He, by nature is really drawn to carving his own path (i mean the man fully invents his own ass god) and has like an ambition that tends to isolate him from others (I haven't forgotten jokes in other SMPs about his house always being so far away from everyone else) but what he really craves, in needing to adhere to some kind of balance is closeness, a safe familiar place to rest his head, a lack of separation that he always ends up wanting to fully lean towards, but because of this balance thing- he can't have all of one or the other.

Spark I think follows a similar pattern to Jordan, and as a result as do Andor and Martha (albeit in different ways I'll try to speak on but I don't spend much time with their characters aside from the fact that especially in Ruxomar where Ianitees are kind of othered (cough queer metaphor, this is not an original thought but it makes so much sense) that to counter this oppression of their beliefs they too seek out community which is why Andor and Jordan get on so well.

Because Spark grew up with something different and we don't get much canoncially of him, its a little harder to analyze him, but if I had to give it a guess, I think his is moreso like he falls between two worlds in being the s/o of a literal goddess, that he feels an obligation to act as a mediator (as Jordan is), but rather between his two brothers-in-law, but instead between that of the immortal and mortal worlds, where like Capsize carries with him a protective nature to make them feel more in alignment. Essentially, in someway or another, giving agency and power to the mortal world and making the immortal world feel less distant and understandable/attuned to those who they rule. But its less a burden he chooses to carry, like a i must take control to bring this balance, and more a internal kind of responsibility to maintain his connections between both worlds, to keep himself together.

And Red, gods Red m8, I haven't dug too deep into him but I really like your take on him! Someone who I think is a really good example of how his unluckiness, rather than being something that unconsciously he wants to correct to find an internalized balance, instead has found a certain apathy to the notion that he was supposed to be the unlucky side of the twins, that i could almost say mans like found a neutral ground that way; sitting on a middle ground of having neither fortunate nor an unfortunate influence on the way things happen because either way he feels he'll only worsen it which. idk about you but Ouch That Hurts. Like he wants to strive for finding balance in having some type of influence of fortune, but its so out of reach he chooses instead to take a role of inaction

GAHHH theres so much brainrot that can come from this. I will be thinking about this forever. i hope i didnt fully just do the horribly misinterprets the characters LMAO any way. thank you for this

It eez what it eez TLDR; Ianitees come into the realm with an almost pre-determined alignment long before they consciously are aware of the goddess, a kind of self-fulflling that drives a lot of their emotional-moral compass in seeking a balance within them that gives them a role and purpose in the fabric of their characterization and relationships with others

#i once again am writing at like midnight bc thats when my brain seems to be able to think the most analytically i hope this makes sense LMAO #team ianite #mianite #character analysis #lafakiwi writes #mianite headcanon #its a lot also im sorry #i like. went on a lot of tangents as per usual #captain capsize #jordan captainsparklez #spark conway #i am not the andor man unfortunately and id feel bad trying to elaborate on the really cool brainrot ive seen from like chase and fern :'D #i think its along a similar thought pattern but i could be very wrong and i apologize for that #martha. man i dont know enough about her at all #idk feel free to add on! this is really just a massive braindump #asks #licantropa

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