#the way i want to tag things on here for ease of access ON HERE while also not having them end up in main tags is unreal | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

angelltheninth · 5 months

Text

Lesson Learned

Pairing: Professor!Viktor x Fem!Reader

Tags: nsfw, smut, classroom sex, orgasm control, desk sex, almost getting caught, dirty talk, secret relationship, co-workers, teasing, fingering, sexy lingerie

Word count: 1.6k

A/N: Part of my 15k follower event! The prompt for this one was 'Viktor + Professor AU', which had my brain going ever since I saw it. It makes sense in canon too, I think he would have made a great professor. I don't know how this got lost in my drafts for so long cause it's been done for a loooong time lmao, my bad everyone!

Many people argued that Viktor worked too much, he would argue that he didn't work hard enough. He's seen many brilliant minds get let down by the Academy, his friend Jayce once among them. Which is why he decided to become a professor, to nurture and encourage new people of any background not to give up. He very well loved amongst his students because of this.

"You're certainly popular." You looked over all the letters and flowers on his desk. "I think you got more of this than any professor today."

"Sounds like someone's jealous of me." Viktor moved the papers off his desk after looking over dozens maybe over a hundred letters today. "Is it me or the students you're jealous of?" He smirked when he saw how you were looking at the flowers.

You plucked one from the bouquet and threw it in his general direction. He heaved forward and caught it just before it hit the ground. You thought he was gonna put it back but instead he offered it forward.

"For you." You rolled your eyes at his gesture but you did accept it. He was sweet even when he was tired. "Am I the last one here?"

"No there's a few more professors tonight. Since it's exam season everyone's been working double time. Or I guess normal time for you." It was written all over his face, the tired smiles, the way too many cups of coffee he drank, the half-eaten lunches that he would only finish when the work day was over. "Do you still have papers to grade? I'll help you out."

"There's only a few more. Shouldn't take more than an hour so I can finish that tomorrow." Viktor walked over to the classroom door and shut the blinds before turning the lock. The clock sent a shiver down your spine and a pleasant throbbing in your lower belly. "I've been meaning to ask you, what's the real reason you came here tonight?"

"What do you mean? To see you." Viktor didn't buy that excuse. He walked behind you, his cane thumping a little harder on the floor then moments before.

He placed the flowers and his suitcase with the letters and the exams beside the desk and patted his hand on the now empty surface. You started to turn around so you could take a seat but he tapped the desk with his cane in warning, a series of quick taps that made your body respond and your cheeks flush. "How?" You asked with a shaky breath.

"Bend over first. I want to see what you have on for me." Oh. Well then he's not gonna be disappointed at all. You felt his slim fingers rubbing your thigh up and down, pulling your dress up over your hips and then tracing the dark red edge of your panties. "This all for stress release? You really do go above and beyond for me. And you had this on all day?"

"Not all day. I changed when my classes ended." You're bold but not bold enough to wear crochless underwear all day.

"You wanted me to have ease of access, how nice of you." His fingers plunged into your pussy, "No resistance? Darling, you were horny long before you stepped foot in here weren't you?"

You clenched your cunt around his fingers when you felt them all the way inside you. Viktor moved them quickly, way quicker then he could move his hips, way harder too, giving you the hard fucking he knew you craved with your whole being. Otherwise you wouldn't have worn this sexy little thing. "I was just thinking about you. This is how wet you make me. It's a real problem don't you think?" Viktor hummed in agreement and curled his fingers upwards, "And when you have a problem you talk to one of the best professors in the Academy. Simple as that. I'm surprised you couldn't figure that out."

Viktor stepped forward, pressing his bulge against your wetness, his hands on desk as he let his cane lean against the corner of the said desk. "It is a real problem. One can't have his girlfriend walking around, dripping wet like payed for whore. Just because no one knows that we're fucking doesn't mean you can get away with behaving like this." Moments after he stepped away from you there was a very familiar sign of a zipper followed by the even more familiar push of his cockhead against your throbbing pussy.

He kept you tightly pressed against the desk and himself, teasing you without entering. This stillness seemed to go on for a while. When you tried to push further against him to take more of his cock he pushed you harder against the desk.

"Come like this. With just my tip inside." You knew he could feel your walls flutter against him, could feel you drip down his cock and onto the floor. "What's the matter? I thought you wanted me to fix your problem."

"If this is how you fix problems I'm questioning your credentials." One of his hands pushed against your shoulder, all the way down onto the desk so when you turned your head you looked at his name tag on the desk, reminding you that you were in his classroom, you had to follow his rules. When he was in your classroom did the same, moaning and holding off on finishing through all your teasing and pussyjobs.

The hand that pushed you down was now back on your hip, making sure you don't go anywhere. He still didn't move or show any intent of sinking in deeper, no matter how tempting your warm, wet cunt was. You wanted all of him not just the tip, his whole cock, fucking you like you wanted, how you craved it. But for that to happen you knew what your task was, you knew you had to come.

So you let your imagination run wild, think back to another time when you were in here, but then he was back down on the floor and you on top of him, he had his hands on your tits, pinching your nipples as he held your legs open with his and wildly thrust his cock in and out of your pussy. He got in so deep then, very different from now, he had no self control over his pace despite how his leg protested, all he cared about was your moans above him and the sloshing wet sounds your sloppy cunt made for him.

"Must be good. Whatever you're thinking of. Your cunt is getting so tight." He finally pushed back a little more but just as fast as he did he pulled back to just the tip.

"The last time we were in here." You felt his cock twitch. Almost there, you were so close to getting what you wanted.

"An interesting choice. Did you like me underneath you then? Did you like me being that deep inside you? I believe your exact words were 'balls deep' weren't they?" They were and you wanted it again. You wanted it so bad, you could almost feel it, you could come just from that memory.

As your pussy started to clench around you and your orgasm flow through your body Viktor pushed in the whole way, catching the very start of your orgasm, filling your begging cunt with his cock. You moaned at the feeling of his cock twitching inside you as you came, encouraging Viktor to finally start thrusting back and forth fucking your orgasm out of you.

It wasn't as fast as with his fingers earlier but it didn't have to be. "Shut up." You whimpered, unable to fulfil his command this time, "No seriously darling, shut up."

Your eyes finally focused enough to see a shadow approaching the door. Since you couldn't stop making sounds you placed both hands over your mouth and Viktor leaned forward over your body, his hands digging into the desk.

"Professor Viktor? Are you still working sir?" Asked the person behind the door.

"Yes, very late night, lots to do. But don't worry, something tells me I'm about to finish fast." You heard him laugh behind you then hum when he sunk in all the way, "Really soon."

"Well... alright then, just remember to lock up when you're done. See you tomorrow Professor." With every further step Viktor got rougher, his breath coming out short against your moans. You're not sure your orgasm ever stopped through all of this.

"So naughty. Coming around my cock while I'm talking to a colleague of ours. At least I had the decency to wait until they left." The heavy Academy door shut close in the distance and your moan finally echoed around the classroom again, mixing with Viktor's, jets of his sticky cum painting the inside of your pussy. It was a good thing he wasn't too heavy, you didn't mind him laying over you to catch his breath, you needed it too. "Did that solve your problem, Professor?"

You nodded. "For now. But I might need it again when we get back home. And speaking of problems I think you may have made another one for me." You could almost hear the gears in his head turning, trying to figure it out, "I need you to go get my underwear. I can't walk home... dripping everywhere."

"Oh! Of course I will. Right away." He debated on that statement when he heard the way you moaned as he pulled out. Viktor stumbled a little as he put his pants back on and picked his cane back up and kissed your cheek before starting to walk out the door.

As you stretched your body you caught glimpse of the flower he gave you earlier. "Okay, maybe I was a little jealous."

#arcane #arcane x reader #viktor #viktor x reader #viktor x you #arcane viktor x reader #arcane imagine #arcane fanfic #arcane smut #viktor arcane x reader #league of leguends #league of legends x reader #league of legends smut #league of legends imagine #league of legends fanfiction #15k event

567 notes · View notes

usagii-bun · 1 year

Text

𝐇𝐈𝐑𝐀𝐄𝐓𝐇 ( NAMOR X READER ) PT.4

in which you find a child floating in the water and you save them only for your acts of kindness to get misinterpreted by the father who is also the king of an underwater civilization.

PLEASE READ THIS FIRST : this is a story i am writing on wattpad but my wattpad version is more in detail, slightly different and has an oc ( alora ). It has 6 chapters thus far and still work in progress if you want you can check it out with the link below or use the linktree link in my bio to access wattpad but if you feel more comfortable with x reader I'll try and get all the chapters I have currently published over here in a few days

hiraeth ( namor ) wattpad | oc version!

PART 1 , PART 2 , PART 3 , PART 4

TAG LIST :

@f1uveryys @xxmilli @ethereal-athalia @cyberficlya @complete-randomness-2 @bobateaae @lunamoonbby @kpopgirlbtssvt @lazyassfinals @ilovehobi101 @r3dc4ndy @puzzlemastersworld @namorlover @happycupcakeenthusiast @kakimakiloh @glaciuswduo @disaster-in-waiting @givemefiction2 @phoenixgurl030 @monbebefan247 @intense-sneezing

comment if you want to be apart of the tag list or set a notification to get updates when I post ! every like, share and reblog is highly appreciated, tysm 🤍

IT WAS NOW EVENING, the sun dipping below the horizon kissing the ocean goodbye, the sky a purplish-orange color adorn with a few grey clouds as Huracan and you were still outside enjoying the last bits of the day before it was time to go back in.

You had came to term with the fact that Huracan staying with you was only going to be momentarily. You grew attached to the child due to the loneliness that you felt from staying by herself for months in isolation, away from others due to your health issues.

You wondered if Huracan was also lonely and just wanted some company but your mind now questioning if Huracan has a family, what if they are waiting for him? Worried about him and in search of him, thinking of the worst things that could have happened to him. This left you to ruminate over

your thoughts as your gaze fall on the sky, that is becoming darker and darker.

There was thunder clouds looming above you due to the hot weather you experienced today, the clouds were forming and becoming aggravated with each second that passed by— this alarming you as you walk back to the tidal pool to retrieve Huracan and putting a stop to your fleeting thoughts.

"C'mon, Hura. We need to get back in." You say, watching as the boy breaks through the surface of the water— eyes sparkling with life as he listens to you instantly, emerging from the pool only to latch onto your arm, his skin turning back into a shade of blue as you both walk home.

The rain came down. It suddenly came down heavy causing you to gasp in shock when the harsh rain pelted down onto you, you turn towards Huracan to notice that he had his eyes closed— enjoying the rain water that got soaked into his skin while you on the other hand felt a shiver tingling down your spine even though the air was warm.

Knowing that if you had to stay in the rain for way too long— you would definitely get sick but watching the boy enjoy the fresh water that falls onto him , you decided to wait a few minutes because seeing his face brighten up from just the simple feeling of rain water against his skin made you realize that the simple things in life is what makes living much better, it made you feel at ease with yourself.

A bright flash of purple and then a loud crackling noise followed by a hiss came from above you and Huracan shocks you at the loud noise and the thunderstorm that has finally brewed up, the rain became even heavier causing your heart to beat faster.

"Let's get back inside, we don't want to become fried fish today." You say, laughing at your lame excuse of a joke which Huracan didn't understand fully but he did understand that you wanted to go back inside from the way your body had stiffened slightly.

He was about to agree but then the sight of a shiny, shell that was a bit closer to the ocean water grabs his attention— he wanted to get that shell so that he could give it to you, forgetting that you wanted to go back in as he leaves your side, alarming you as he runs down the bank to go and retrieve the shell.

"Huracan!" You shout out alarmed, the rain pelting down heavily, the sky above you becoming dark— the only source of light now coming from the lighting that viciously flashed from above and the few outside lights from your house.

You slide down the steep slope to get to the boy only for your flip-flop to get stuck into something and in turn crashing into the youngster causing him to also fall and let out a small yelp.

"oh gosh, Hura! I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to!" You cried out, you moved to his side to see that you had slightly bruised his knee cap, crimson escaping from the bruise as guilt consumes you from being so unconscious and not watching where you walked.

Huracan didn't feel much pain from the small bruise, he was about to tell you it's okay but you tore a small part of your shirt to help stop the bleeding. A small amount of blood covered your finger tips when you wrapped the small piece of cloth around his tiny knee cap, tightening the cloth around it.

A throbbing feeling around your ankle became prominent as you gazes down at your leg, to find that you had slightly twisted your ankle due to your flip-flop getting stuck onto something— that being the whole reason you slipped.

A small cry leaves from your parted lips, the thunderstorm viciously going on above them as the rain fell down. Your body was drenched in rain water, making you shiver adding more to the pain you felt in your ankle.

"Y-Y/N!" the young child cried out grasping onto your shoulders, he gazed at you to find that tears were also trailing down your cheeks with the rain water, your hands covered in wet sea sand and dabs of blood.

This made tears to form in Huracan's eyes, he was now scared and worried about you, the person that took care of him like he was their own child— he didn't know what to do to help you, making him feel even more worried and scared as the thunder flashed and rumbled.

Your body that trembled suddenly went stiff, your blood running cold— you felt like you and Huracan were being watched.

You were right.

The sound of something fluttering, similar to the sound of a rattle snake mingled with the harsh noises of the rain, lightning and the waves that crashed close by.

The fluttering sound stops , it suddenly goes eeirely quite, Huracan's whimpers go silent and before you could comprehend whether you was just feeling paranoid —something grasped the collar of the shirt you wore and pulled you harshly away from Huracan, throwing you to the other side away from him.

You heard Huracan scream your name out, your body feeling extremly numb, the world around you spinning while terror sunk into every firbe of your being.

Your neck twists to the side to see what had thrown you so viciously away from Huracan, fear laminating in your eyes, your gaze being met with the tip of a sharp spear, your body flinching away from it in terror but it was now pressed against the side of your neck in a threatening manner to slice your head off clean.

The lightning struck again, giving you a better vision of what was being hostile towards you , your eyes widening when your gaze falls on a man— his entire being radiate regality from the way his body oozed confidence to the jewelry that was adorn upon him. His chest covered in some sort of metal that was beautiful crafted, the same type of metal also adorning his biceps and wrists.

She also noticed that he had pointed ears, adorn with jewels just like the rest of him.

You shakily raise your hands, to say you was no threat or harm but this act seemed to make the man even more infuriated when he spotted dabs of blood smeared on your finger tips and then seeing blood around the area where Huracan was.

"How dare you take my son away and harm him?"

Shit. Was the first thought that came to your mind, you was right, Huracan did have someone to go back to— your thoughts being cut short when the cold tip of the spear pressed even closer to your neck that you could feel the pressure tearing slightly into your skin.

Your words were stuck in your throat from fear, you couldn't formulate a response except for a shaky breath to escape past your lips, your body trembling from pain and fear.

Due to your lack of response that made the King even more agitated, his spear was about to press into the side of your neck but tiny hands wrapped around his arm, holding it in place before he could slash at you.

"Father, please don't!" the young child cried out in his own language, this alerting the king who turns towards his son— the furious look that had adorn his face moments ago was replaced by one that was filled with worry.

"Huracan, my child. Are you alright? Did it hurt you?" his voice venomous when he says the word it , you didn't understand what they were saying but from the side glare the man had passed to you, you knew he had said something about you.

"No! Do not bring harm to y/n, she had saved me! Please do not harm her, she didn't do anything wrong. If you want to punish someone, father— it should be me, I should have never left Talokan." The boy sobs out, hearing Huracan's broken voice made your chest hurt— your eyes squeezing shut to prevent any tears from escaping as everything around you started to spin, the world around you becoming blurry as all the pain you felt physically and emotionally became blunt.

Your vision being filled with black dots that became larger until your eyes closed completely, body slumping into the sand— the fear you felt along with the pain made you fall unconscious this grabbing Huracan's attention, the boy letting go of his father's arm to rush towards you.

A cry leaves past his parted lips, his hands reached out to hug your cold body against his.

"Look what you have done, father. You killed her!" The boy says inbetween sobs, you was far from dead but to Huracan seeing your still body, no warm smile on your face and your eyes that twinkled with care and affection was no longer there— you looked dead to him.

K'uk'ulkan looked down at you. His son held onto you so gently, the rain easing down — the thunderstorm slowly clearing up.

"Hura.. she's not dead." The king says while his inner voice says 'well not yet'. He didn't trust you, this human but the way his son held onto you like his own life depended on you— he could not just kill you after he found out you had saved his son.

"You have to help her then or else I'll hate you forever." Huracan suddenly spat out— eyes shining bright with anger and saddness, his words stung K'uk'ulkan , his heart aching at the words his son spewed at him. An expression of hurt forms on K'uk'ulkan's face, a soft sigh leaving past his lips.

He glances down at your unconscious form that laid on the sand, his son's words floating around in his mind. He bends down towards you, taking in your features— noticing your skin has gotten paler and your ankle was swelling.

He was not keen on helping you, a surface dweller, he had hate for these disparage creatures but seeing how his son has become attached to you, clinging. He couldn't just kill you.

With one last glance towards your unconscious body, he looks back towards the raging ocean as he signals for Namora to come to him. He turns away and looks down at his son, his heart softening when he sees the tears on his cheeks as he sighs lightly.

'I'm only doing this for you my child.'

PART 5

645 notes · View notes

interpolanticssuperfan · 8 months

Text

nothing natural | ken x fem!reader | part 3 | 18+ only

hii everyone! thank you SO much for the incredible kindness youve shown me and sweet words so far! and thank you all for reading. i accidentally made this chapter longer than i intended to.. oops. i hope i am doing a good job at slow burning because ive struggled with that in the past. warnings: reader goes outside to smoke a cigarette. lol. enjoy and as always feedback fuels me!!

also, i wanted to let you all know that you can listen to the playlist i have been listening to as i work on this fic which is sort of a mix of stuff that reminds me of ken and stuff i think he'd like. idk i love when authors share what they listen to, so you can check that out here.

you can also reply to my posts or message me if you want to be tagged for updates. i am posting a masterlist today for ease of access.

tags: @heyareyoulistening @itsametaphorbriansblog @alyeria

In the span of one hour, you absorbed more information and somehow became more confused the longer Ken spent investigating every inch of your apartment. You explained to him that you did not own this entire building, and that only one unit was allotted to you, but this still impressed Ken.

“Are you friends with all your neighbors?” He asked, squinting closely at the magnets on your fridge, touching them and flipping frantically through the notepad you used for grocery lists, like he needed to see more of your handwriting, more of the things you used every day. Ken murmured to himself as he took in the words: flour, one dozen eggs, croissants.

You’d reinstated yourself at your dining table with your work laptop, creating an elaborate lie for your supervisor as to why you missed the weekly team check in. My cousin’s dog was assaulted by a rabid possum and we had to take him to the emergency vet, please excuse my brief absence… I’m happy to work overtime to accommodate this inconvenience… He was only a puppy…

So on and so forth. You were confident you could schmooze your way out of a write up. Ken couldn’t stand still, couldn’t contain himself – had whizzed through the front door when you unlocked it, bouncing off the walls with questions and comments that flowed freely.

“No, I’m not friends with all my neighbors. There’s gotta be at least forty other people that live here. Are you?”

“I know all the Kens. We are not all friends. But I know all of them.”

“You’re all named Ken.”

“No. There’s Allans.”

“Right.”

Ken gleefully picked up each cookbook stacked on top of a low hanging shelf, tearing through each one and making tiny astonished faces at each new dish he was introduced to. Recipes on the sweeter side piqued his interest – cinnamon rolls, pastries, cookies. You had suspended disbelief long enough to just let Ken do this, let him touch everything even if he moved your belongings out of place. It wasn’t typical for you to have a man over, let alone one who was learning how the natural human world worked. (And had to ask you with stars in his eyes what ovens were for.)

“These pancakes look divine. They’re putting all kinds of stuff in these. I didn’t know you could put blueberries in them. They taste good, right?” You craned your neck to get a look at the recipe he was referring to.

“If you’re a decent cook! You just have to pay attention to what you’re doing, measuring, how long things stay on the stove. It’s like that for anything you cook. I’m not great with pancakes, for some reason I always tend to burn them.”

“So what’s your favorite food?” Ken asks, setting the book down and taking to the fridge, flinging the doors wide open and surveying each salad dressing, bottle of water, every can of cold brew coffee. He ran his fingers along the labels, as if reading braille, receiving telepathic information about these products from just handling them. It was an odd sight. Everything he held looked so small in his hands.

“Er… I guess I really like sushi. But I haven’t had it in awhile. Trying to save money, make a habit of eating at home. And I just like to make simple things.”

“What’s in sushi?” Ken’s rotating a banana in his hands, picking at the stem to see what it does.

“A lot of things. Usually raw fish. Rice that sticks together to make a shape, seaweed, different kinds of sauces.” It’s making you laugh, seeing Ken size up this banana with a puzzled look on his face. “Do you want to try eating that?”

He shifts uncomfortably, placing the fruit back down on the counter like it had offended him. “We have these in Barbieland but they are not nearly as squishy. Ours are rock hard. And not brown!”

Ken was right – that banana was probably past its prime, but you hadn’t cleaned out the fridge in a few days. You’d gotten sick of refreshing your inbox waiting for a reply from your supervisor, so you got up and pulled a knife from the drawer, setting the squishy banana on a paper towel to cut it.

“Here. Try this,” you cut through the peel and divide up a small end slice into two pieces, holding one out to Ken who seems frightened by it, squares his shoulders.

“There’s something inside that peel?”

“Go ahead, just take a bite! You might like it, how else will you find out what you like?”

“But (Y/N), I’m not… hungry.”

“That’s okay. It’s a very small slice, I promise it’ll be alright, Ken.”

His eyes flash with trust at the promise you’ve just made him, so he abandons his apprehension and plops the bit into his mouth. It’s like watching a baby bird clamor for its mother’s offering of regurgitated seed and berry mix. Ken doesn’t instinctively chew, he just lets it sit in his mouth like he’s waiting for the fruit to do something. You raise up the other banana slice, catch his eye and show him how to chew, slowly, and then swallow.

Ken nods, although his movements are strange and exaggerated, but eventually allows a smile. “That was pretty good. Mushy.” He searches your face to see if he’s given the correct answer, which is even funnier to you than him trying food for the first time.

“Did you like it? Bananas are on the sweet side.”

“Definitely. I think I really like them. Can I have the rest of it?”

“So you can taste!”

Ken grins to himself, gives you a proud stance and swaggers to the side, popping his hip out as he starts cutting up the rest of the fruit.

“Oh, yeah. I can taste everything. Nothing I can’t taste.”

“When I go to the store next I can get you some more sweet foods. But you can’t just eat sweets. Fruit is naturally sweet, but for example, you can’t just have ice cream and brownies all the time. Your body will hate you for that.”

“And I can make you pancakes with bananas.” Ken adds, cocky as ever, already physically spreading himself out in your kitchen like he owns the place, thighs open and easy and confident as he leans back. He adjusts quickly to new situations, you’re discovering, with none of the social anxiety most people might feel.

“Let’s save the cooking and… turning on the stovetop… for when I can teach you. It can be dangerous if you’re not familiar with what to do.”

“But what if I want to surprise you, (Y/N)? You wouldn’t want to ruin it, would you?”

“I’d rather ruin the breakfast than have you accidentally catch my apartment building on fire.”

Ken considers this, starts chewing at the rest of the banana slices while still committed to looking cool as he does so. “You’re so right. So, where do you think I should sleep?”

You put some distance between the two of you, since proximity to the blonde had begun to make you feel inexplicably self conscious, and sit back down at your laptop. You hadn’t gotten this far, hadn’t decided where Ken could stay and if he was even going to stay. Stay for what? A crash course in becoming a member of society? Turn him into the perfect roommate who’s convinced you’re dating now? And how in the hell were you qualified to teach him anything about life, fulfillment, health or success when you were far from the epitome of any of those?

“I thought you said you didn’t get tired.”

“There’s something I need to tell you about,” the sudden change in Ken’s tone caught you off guard, so after taking a brief glance at your emails again and confirming nothing of substance had arrived, you folded your hands in your lap and turned your body towards him, anticipatory and patient.

“When Barbie went to the real world, almost everything about her changed. She still looked like herself, but… it was different. She told us that she got a cold.” Ken gestured to his nose, crinkling it up in dismay. “Sniffling. She had to use tissues.”

“You’re worried about getting sick?”

“No, not… right now.” Ken tried again, attacking it from a different angle. “Barbie said the longer she was here, the more she kept changing. Barbies never got sick before. But she had to see a human doctor, and she started making her own food and eating it. Sandwiches. And her flat feet never went away.” Ken’s distress was evident, but you weren’t sure what he was getting at, couldn’t see what panicked him so much about this topic.

“I don’t understand. What are you saying, Ken?” You tried to keep yourself casual, so as not to freak him out even further; he’d already begun pacing, boots clacking against your kitchen tile with each step.

“I’m saying that the longer I stay here, the less I’m going to be like… how I was.” He sounded so unsure, on the precipice of a conclusion, fearful of what he might learn. “Don’t you get it? I’ll have to brush my hair. Call the dentist. Pay taxes. Wear deodorant. I might get a breakout on my chin, just like Barbie did.” The last part sounded like the nail in the coffin for Ken, who looked weak just recalling the memory.

“Taxes? But you don’t have a job, do you? For all the city knows, you don’t even exist.”

“That’s not the point, (Y/N)! I’ll have to get a job.”

“Sorry, I’m sorry. So… it sounds like you’ll become less like a doll?”

“Exactly. And I’ll have to do it alone.” Ken was silent, pensive as you let his confession settle. Perhaps it wasn’t the changes that he dreaded.

It was doing it without any support.

“I see. So you’ll have to sleep. You’ll have to eat. Is that scaring you?” Your intention was to minimize these facts of daily human life, shrink them down to manageable tasks, not to trivialize his valid concerns.

Ken hollowed his cheek, bit the skin in between his teeth and looked around for something to focus on while he reflected on what you asked. Noticing the cage you had set up for your guinea pig, Ken crouched in front of it without so much as a knee crack, raising his eyebrows up inquisitively.

“Who’s this?”

“I should’ve introduced you to her earlier. She’s my guinea pig, her name’s Willa. See her long hair? It’s really beautiful, but she’s pretty high maintenance.”

Sounds like someone else in this room.

Being so close to Willa appeared to calm Ken down, and you watched his shoulders drop slightly, saw the veins in his neck depress, growing less agitated. “Does she have to brush her hair?”

The cookbooks, grocery lists, the banana had inspired Ken to ask countless questions, but meeting Willa, Ken merely watched in quiet awe.

You couldn’t help but laugh at his purported jab. “I help her with it every day. She’s got a special little brush.”

“Hers is longer than mine. At least she gets some assistance.”

Ken sighs deeply, not taking his eyes off tiny caramel colored Willa, who has no idea what’s happening, just lounges in the paper substrate fleece and wiggles her nose up at the blonde staring her down. He rubs meager circles on his knees as if to soothe himself, then sighs again, long and dramatic. From minute to minute, Ken’s moods shift so drastically – he could be lovingly describing his newfound obsession with bananas and then just as easily pivot to jealousy over a guinea pig receiving grooming services from its owner. Decoding him was like whiplash.

“Ken?”

“I’ve been putting off thinking about this part.”

“You mean losing your doll-ness?”

“Yeah.” Ken’s voice is small, terrified, unbefitting of how he presented himself. Put together, well dressed, toned, tanned, oozing with charm. It all dissipated with his answer.

With your foot, you push out the dining table chair adjacent to you, the scrape spooking Ken as he jumps. “Why don’t you come sit here and talk with me? You can bring Willa, she likes making friends. Just be mindful of her.” Nervous, Ken obliges, sticks a hand into her enclosure and waits for Willa to crawl over to him.

To your shock, she comes without a moment’s hesitation, nosing at his palm and blinking at him. Willa ardently disapproved of your last boyfriend, and she never seemed to like the odd hookup you’d bring over after your explosive breakup. She’d ignore any man in the apartment for the most part, but you couldn’t believe how easy it had been for her to warm up to Ken, snuggling up to him already.

“Wow. She normally doesn’t like strangers.”

“Looks like she prefers your friends. She’s so soft,” Ken notes, temporarily forgetting about the needling anxiety he’d been expressing to you, and sits down. At your table Ken seemed larger than life, so full of color and irresistible personality. The most interesting irregularity you had ever entertained. He flattened the backs of his hands on the placemat and smiled down shyly at Willa, gentle like he was convinced the tiniest movement could hurt her.

(A smile that had the power to devastate – could ruin your life, could make you want to throw it all away just to know him; a smile that Ken saved specifically for a defenseless creature that nibbed at his thumbnail.)

“Go ahead and pet her! They like that,” you encouraged Ken, denying the lump in your throat, who obeys and brings a steady forefinger to Willa’s back, warily petting her in one stunted action. Willa rustles, but doesn’t flee or make any noises contesting his presence. “She might try to run away, so just make sure you keep an eye on her.”

“I promise I will, (Y/N). How old is she?”

“She’s two and a half.” You raise your eyes to Ken, who’s entranced by the small animal and her lustrous coat, indifferent to his surroundings now that he’s connected with this hairy comrade. “How old are you?”

“I have no idea. How old are you?”

This shouldn’t have surprised you at this point. Nothing could catch you off guard now as you went down the list, dedicating yourself wholly to figuring out what to do with this guy. Given how unadjusted he is to the world, is Ken your responsibility now? What would happen to him if he went out, unprepared, unassimilated, and tried to do things like get a job, buy something from the store? Had he ever seen currency before?

Would you have to teach Ken math? You failed calculus. More than once. This wasn’t boding well.

“I’m twenty five. You don’t have a birthday?”

“What’s that?”

“It’s how you keep track of your age. Could you look at me for a second? Maybe I can try and guess.” Ken’s reluctant to stop looking at Willa, but does as you say, and it strikes you to admire him overtly like this, free from the guise of contrived modesty, not hiding how strongly you want to see him. He’s open, almost tranquil, those wide eyes continuously following yours, every single aspect of his demeanor softening the more you drink him in.

You couldn’t help but freeze. Pinning him. You could hear the robins chirping outside on the patio. Buses shuttling along on the road outside. Your blood pumping in your fingers, the hot curl of desire in your stomach. At once, everything felt vibrant, felt… exceptional.

Because of him.

Blonde angel, almost porcelain. Kind with your pet. Enthralled with the simplest items you owned. Eager to assist you with any task, however minor. Naively trusting.

Blind to the ways this world could twist and chew you up. Brand new.

You wouldn’t ever be the source of pain for Ken. In that moment, searching his stark blue eyes for an answer to a question you couldn’t articulate, you wrote it on your heart, that no matter what happened – whether Ken stayed in your life, as a friend or something more – you would never hurt him.

You don’t even remember what you were trying to do with him. Mesmerized, you simply just enjoyed the sight, at a loss for words. What was there to say that wouldn’t fizzle out and die on your lips?

How are you real? (He wasn’t.)

How did you get here? (He’d waited for you.)

Do you have any idea how beautiful you are?

“(Y/N)? Did you calculate it yet? Maybe it’ll be easier if I unbutton my jacket. Willa, stay put, I need to do something,” It flew over your head, you couldn’t hear what he said, just gawked and felt your pulse thrum as Ken started to undo the top of his denim jacket. Deft fingers working, you had to be aware of how affected you looked. You couldn’t hide it.

To see more of Ken’s chest physically pained you – it hurt to look, hurt to squirm and act like it wasn’t overwhelming, burning you up. He showed off his defined, carved muscle, smooth and enticing like a joke or something.

Willa sniffed the salt and pepper shaker, not moving even a millimeter away from Ken as he undid the last button with a muffled pop.

Where wisps of blonde hair would’ve led down to the tip of Ken’s waistband, there was nothing, just more of that milky white skin, blameless and pure and teasing. Where ribs should have anatomically been, his chest expanded then deflated, ripples of flesh rolling, then relaxing.

All of him on display. All of him so… bare.

Well – not all of him. Not yet.

You hadn’t felt anything like this before, not ever. You were experienced – you weren’t uneducated when it came to sex, or… pleasure. Yet it was impossible that you’d felt true desire in the past, even for the man you’d fallen in love with and been betrayed by, because those memories shriveled in comparison to what you felt in this moment, seeing Ken like this, expectant and unrestrained and so fiercely magnetizing. You saw your future, you saw his body, you saw Ken’s long eyelashes fluttering and pretty like a girl’s, and it was too fucking much, louder than your heart slamming inside your chest.

You began to question if you were even real. If this was happening. Maybe you were the lifeless doll. Harsh stings peppered out along the slope of your neckline – for the second time since meeting Ken, did that really just happen today? – and you made the horrible mistake of telling him the truth just as he was starting to visibly fidget, awaiting your reply.

“(Y/N)? Is this helping? If not, I can –”

“You’re so goddamned gorgeous. Fuck.”

“What?” Ken blinked, taken aback. He looked like he wanted to say more, to press you, but he couldn’t form a response.

“I’m. Jesus. I am so sorry, Ken. That wasn’t appropriate at all. I’m… supposed to be helping you. I’m sorry.” Dizzyingly, you shot to your feet, dug your heels against the floor just to feel grounded, and reached over the table for your purse.

Weren’t you the one supposed to be in charge of boundaries? Teaching Ken how to act, how not to rush things when you met someone you wanted to get to know?

Ken had flushed a deep shade of peach, an obvious blush that mottled his neck and spread out to his clavicles, nearly reaching his shoulder tips.

“Did I do something wrong? Can you please tell me what it was?” Ken urged, pupils the size of saucers and still dancing to follow your every move. His face was frantic, lips parted revealing more of his perfect teeth, just another element of his perfect face, everything so perfect about him, and your headache threatened to return in full force.

“No – no, you didn’t, Ken. I promise. I just need to go outside and smoke, it’s not your fault, okay? Can you please stay here with Willa? I’ll only be a minute.”

Ken clearly didn’t know what you meant, or what smoking entailed, but he stayed fused to the chair, biting at his lip again in fragile confusion and not daring to abandon Willa. Fumbling for your lighter through the fabric, you caught the unmistakable downturn of rejection swimming across his features, and the notion that you might have inadvertently let him down made you sicker than the intense wave of lust that had just crashed over you, almost crumbling you, reducing you to nothing but a star cursed to orbit a bigger, more important planet.

#ken #ryan gosling #ken barbie #barbie movie #ken x reader #ken x fem reader #ryan gosling ken #female reader

162 notes · View notes

phillippadgettwrites · 7 months

Note

I know that you have several of these already, but I would like to submit a cunnilingus request with some breast fondling, maybe before scully knows she’s pregnant?

The Personal Costs

Rated X / 965 words / Posted on AO3 / Tagging @today-in-fic

Some days he wishes he’d never met her. It’s a real mindfuck to need someone as much as he needs her and wish them away, but sometimes he does. Today is certainly one of those days.

She shouldn’t be here, shivering under a pilly motel bedspread. Bouncing another woman’s baby on her knee. Chasing down the same unanswerable questions seven years after she unwittingly gave her life over to his cause. He wishes her away so hard it makes his chest ache, but she doesn’t go anywhere. She never has, maybe never will. He’s so grateful and resentful all at once that he squeezes her too tightly and inadvertently wakes her.

“How long have I been asleep?” she mumbles, rolling to her back.

She’s still fully dressed in her blouse and slacks, evidence of just how unwell she felt when she knocked on his door. One of the first things he learned about her after being granted access to her bed is that clothes that have been worn outside the house are not permitted under the covers.

“An hour, give or take,” he tells her. “How do you feel?”

Scully’s eyes roam around the motel room as she pulls in a deep breath and takes stock of herself.

“Better, I think,” she says after a time.

She catches his eye and her chin pebbles up, pushing her mouth into a sympathetic little frown. She reaches up to touch his cheek and he shakes his head, uninterested in being talked out of his misery. Her thumb brushes across his bottom lip, featherlight, and he bends down to kiss her. He intends for it to be a chaste kiss, but she opens her mouth and he accepts the invitation.

Her tongue tastes like sleep and remnants of toothpaste, and the way she’s kissing him he knows that she wants to take it further. She slips her fingers behind the fly of his jeans and he pulls her hand away, tucking it between her legs instead. He doesn’t have to tell her anymore, doesn’t have to explain that sometimes he hates himself too much to accept her affection, and she no longer feels conflicted about letting him love her without reciprocation to ease his own mind. He pops the buttons on her blouse slowly with one hand, watching her rub herself gently over the top of her pants out of the corner of his eye.

She lets him undress her, lifting her hips so he can tug her slacks off and sitting up so he can unhook her bra. Her breasts look fuller, and he wonders if she might be about to start her period. Not here, he begs the universe. Don’t remind her now. She doesn’t say anything, but he can see in her face how desperately she wants to soothe him. As different as they are, they share the misguided impulse to meddle in the emotions of others as a method of avoiding their own—a tragically fucked-up symbiotic reliance that is probably three quarters of the reason she’s stuck around this long. He rests his head on her breastbone and listens to the familiar padam of her heart, and she rakes her fingernails gently over his scalp, making the base of his spine tingle.

“You know I love you,” she says softly, a reminder he is too often in need of. He sighs and closes his eyes.

When he lifts his head he immediately wraps his lips around one of her nipples, and she gasps as though his mouth were made of ice.

“That okay?” he asks, and she nods, her hips wiggling beneath him.

“Just sensitive,” she says, touching the back of his head to encourage him to continue.

He half suspects she’s putting on a show for him. She arches her back, pushing her breast firmly into his mouth and whimpering with overwhelm. He reaches between their bodies and slips two fingers between her legs, humming with surprise when he finds her dripping wet. He feels himself getting hard and he gently pins her nipple between his teeth, an almost-bite. There’s a hot rush against his fingers, paired with a throaty moan from the head of the bed.

He kneels on the floor beside the bed and drapes her knees over his shoulders, her naked ass hanging off the side of the mattress like an offering. He can already smell her, humid and heady, even before he dips down to taste the slickness coating her lips. She tastes a little different, coppery and slightly salted, and he can’t help but wonder if this place hasn’t done something to her, changed her chemistry in some irreversible way. But she starts coming almost immediately and he stops thinking about anything but the steady throb of her clit against his tongue and the press of her thighs against his ears. When she starts to come down he reaches up and squeezes one of her nipples firmly between two knuckles, setting her off again.

It’s the best way he’s ever found to turn his mind off completely. To stop the constant drone of questions, memories, and fears that regularly rob him of sleep. He wonders if she doesn’t feel the same way, if his head between her thighs is the only drug that works anymore. He stuffs his tongue inside her and she cries out like it hurts, but he knows it doesn’t.

“Mulder,” she whispers, something pleading in her voice.

He wishes he could give her what she needs. What she wants. What she deserves. All the things that have been stolen from her. He lays his palm flat over her lower belly, pressing gently, and she groans. He makes her come again, and again, and again. It’s never enough.

It will never be enough.

#x files fanfic #the x files #xf fic #xf fanfic

55 notes · View notes

liyawritesss · 8 months

Text

ᴛʜᴇ ᴘʟᴀɴ ɪꜱ ᴛᴏ ꜱʜᴏᴡ ʏᴏᴜ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ɪ ᴜɴᴅᴇʀꜱᴛᴀɴᴅ

Characters: Spider-Verse!Earth-42!Miles Morales & Spider-Verse!Earth-42!Rio Morales

Type: Fic

Word Count: 1.4k

Synopsis: Miles tries to show his appreciation for his mother, for all she’s done for him. Even if he can’t verbally say it sometimes; he understands. More than anyone.

Warnings: not a reader insert, so no use of y/n or second person. Mentions jeffersons death on earth-42, so grief mentions as well. Miles is sneaky and kinda sorta lies to mama rio but its all to keep things under wraps and to keep her protected.

A/N: Inspired by @luvjunie ’s 42!Miles Headcanons, specifically as it pertains to him helping his mom out in secret. This headcanon hit home for me and I wanted to write a little content specifically catered to our favorite momma’s boy and his mom

Song Suggestions: “Dear Mama”, “So Many Tears”, & “Keep Ya Head Up” by Tupac Shakur; “Rose In Harlem” by Teyana Taylor; “Broken Clocks” by SZA; “You Got Me” by The Roots, Erykah Badu, Eve, Tariq Trotter

Tags: @6-noir @babyboiboyega @badass-dora-milaje @jacuzziwaters @mbakuetshurisprincess @shuriszn @verachii @writingintheshadowsforever @cafehyunji @lulu-network @niyahwrites @pantherheart @marsfunzon22 @briology @honeybleed @romiantic @queenofthespiderverse @onlyperc @starsoir @yasminisbroke @asensitivecookie @kdyance @sussybaka10 @daisydark @ykimobessed

For as long as Miles could remember, his mom’s dresser had been littered with jars.

Clear, glass containers varying in height and size lining the length of the mahogany wood, situated at the back edge and labeled for certain purposes. They’d helped her keep track of spending habits and separating money for important bills. He’s watched from his youth as his mother counted out the money from her paychecks carefully, dividing the sums into each jar, only being left with a few dollars to her name to last her for the next two weeks. He remembers the overwhelming feeling of helplessness that overtook his young frame as a child when the look of dejectedness flashed across her face.

All he’d ever wished for was to relieve his mother of the stress and prejudice that came with being a widowed single mother. Miles remembers most of his childhood being filled with anger from the pitied looks the other neighborhood moms gave to Rio at the grocery store, and the way people spoke of her as if she were a porcelain doll that needed careful tending due to her ‘vulnerable state’. While it was clear that the loss of Jefferson changed their lives completely, the combination of ingenuine concern from the surrounding community and lack of resources that Rio had access to, mixed with the very raw and still fresh gash of grief left in the now broken family, created a culmination of woe and desolation felt between mother and son; and unfortunately, despite the increased dependency of their bond, such feelings became difficult to express.

Rio became akin to the strong woman trope; the one where a woman of color was expected to pull through all obstacles with a smile on her face, with complete disregard for the turmoil and trauma that would be suffered.

Miles became the pitied son; always angry, always looked upon with false sympathy, always wishing to do better and be better so his mother wouldn’t have to worry about him.

The jars that littered his mother’s dresser soon became the driving force behind his desires to ease her stresses. So when he approaches his uncle with a fire in his eyes and a will power unlike anything he’s ever seen on the streets, it doesn’t take much convincing for Aaron to take the boy seriously.

He thinks back on the nights where he could hear the muffled sniffles of his mother in the next room over as he sneaks into her bedroom in the early hours of the morning. He’d just gotten home, and Rio would be pulling up any minute, so Miles has to make this quick. His book bag rests at his feet, forest green hoodie contrasting against the color of the dresser as he reaches for the tall glass jar labeled ‘RENT’, his dark brown hands pulling the glass container closer as he pulls out a wad of cash from his pockets.

Last time he counted, the jar was about two hundred dollars short of the proper amount that allowed them to call the flat their home. He carefully counts out three hundred from the wad of green in his hands, slips it into the metal slit at the top of the jar, and pushes it back to its original spot.

He does the same for the other glass jars labeled ‘LIGHTS’, ‘HEAT/GAS’, ‘WATER’, ‘WIFI’, ‘GROCERIES’, ‘CAR’, ‘ENTERTAINMENT’, and ‘OTHER’; slipping the amount he knows his mother usually puts into each jar with a little something extra for each one (also paying close attention to the entertainment jar, as there is never much of anything in it, an allusion to Rio’s near non-existent life outside of work and her son, something Miles desperately wishes to change for her). While the wad of cash in his hand slowly depletes, there's a pool of pride that swells in its place, knowing that his secret endeavors make a difference, even the smallest.

The sound of the front door opening and closing causes Miles to jump slightly in his place. He fixes the jars back in their original position, hurriedly making his way out of Rio’s room, careful not to bump into anything or cause any scuffle that could alert his mother’s careful eyes of a disturbance in her space. He all but comes to a halt when he turns from her door to find her standing in front of him, brows furrowed in question.

“Miles?” It doesn’t take long for him to notice the way the dark circles under her eyes sag a little more than the last time she’d been to work, or the pure exhaustion that seeps from her small voice, tired and desperate for sleep. “What were you doing in my room?”

“The door was open,” it’s a practiced lie, one he’s never had to use much, but always has on hand, especially when the false proof of his words are etched onto his mothers face already, “thought you were in already, but I ain’t see you, so I was just closing it before heading out.”

Rio blinks, and Miles watches as she mentally retraces her steps from the night before as she rushed off to work, but the exhaustion that sags her body doesn’t allow her to spend much time on it. “Oh, right; thank you, papa.”

It’s tired and drained, her voice, no doubt from yet another double she had picked up in order to make rent for the month. The first of the month had always been a tumultuous time, where Miles watched Rio disappear through the front door at eight o’clock in the evening, not to return until eight o’clock that morning, then repeat for the next day until the hours added up sufficely on the paycheck. The process was just as hard to watch as it was to endure.

His eyes quickly darted down to the bags his mother was carrying, and without warning, Miles swept them from her hands, alleviating the additional weight that pulled his mother’s frame into a sulking position. Rio dared not to object to the act of service; it had always been his way of helping her after a long shift, even in his younger years as a child. She remembers his greedy, eager hands reaching for her lunch bag and bookbag, the latter of which was far to heavy for him to carry, but he still made an effort to haul the items into the bedroom and tuck them away in the corner while she tread into the kitchen to fix him a hot plate before school. An unspoken ritual the two did with the passing moments that they had, the older that Miles got. Rio would be lying to herself if she said she hadn’t grown fond of the never ending care in Miles’ eyes, and how no matter his age or life experiences, he was always there.

“I made some breakfast,” Miles says as he guides his mother to the bed, gesturing to the loungewear clothes that hung across the foot of the bed frame, “it’s in the microwave.”

“Is it edible this time?” Rio nudges, her joke earning her an airy chuckle from her son.

“Wow, goin’ on me this early in the morning? That’s crazy.”

“I’m not the one who thought that pancakes were done when they’re charred around the edges.”

“Llegar, mamá, eso fue una vez!”

The laughter that echoes throughout the four walls of the main bedroom resonate through the walls, and the air becomes a little lighter than before, the pressure on their hearts ease just a bit.

When he’s done making sure that his mother is set to rest for the rest of the day, Miles grabs his discarded bookbag from the threshold, and bids his mother a bittersweet farewell. As he disappears behind the bedroom door, he heaves a heavy sigh, the sound of his shoes echoing further and further away, before Rio finds herself heaving a sigh as well.

She dresses into the loungewear that Miles had set out for her, immediately slipping underneath the covers after closing the blinds and plugging in her phone. Sleep delirium begins to set in as her head makes contact with the pillows, and yet, her mind never ceases. She’s always thinking, always planning, always working on the next move. Always contemplating on how to keep the jars that litter her dresser full for the rent and bills to be paid.

It doesn’t take long for Rio to succumb to it, however, and as she closes her eyes and slip off to slumber, she can’t help but notice how the jars do seem a little bit fuller than when she had left the night before.

#black reader #black tumblr #black marvel #black spiderman #spiderman into the spiderverse #spiderman across the spiderverse #spiderman beyond the spiderverse #spiderman itsv #spiderman atsv #spiderman btsv #miles morales earth 42 #earth 42 miles morales #e-42!miles morales #earth 42 rio morales #rio morales earth 42 #rio morales

62 notes · View notes

walkingstackofbooks · 8 months

Text

What-the-DS9-crew-call-each-other Masterlist

Hi, I'm Andi, and at the moment I'm making my way through DS9 to gather all the data on how the main crew use each other's names.

For ease, here are all the links to various whatsits if you're interested!

The Raw Data Spreadsheet - I've tried to make it as easy to understand and accessible as possible, but I am still learning as I go along the best ways to do things. Feel free to have a look and make your own posts about the data (please tag me if you do - I'd love to see what other people make of it!), and if you have any questions, I am happy to answer ^_^

Season One Observations

Season Two Observations

Season Three Observations

Garak: Seasons One-Three

All posts with #andi's_spreadsheet_project

I also have a tag list for Season Observation posts - if you want to be added, just let me know!

#andi's spreadsheet project #pinned post #WSB

53 notes · View notes

minkkumaz · 8 months

Text

MONSTER

late night conversations were never supposed to lead to confessions. yet as you lay next to haemin, he finally lets down the walls he's built for everyone but you. sometimes he has to embrace it.

DISTANT LANDS AND OTHER ADVENTURES series

PAIRING jung haemin x fem!reader WC 2.2k TAGS best friends to lovers trope. school au. fluff. study date (?). confessions. anxiety mention. reader has a dog. mention of reader playing roblox. minor cussing. OMI NOTE and alas, here is the final part of this series. although it was short (there genuinely just wasn't a good amount of adventure time songs), i am sincerely so proud of this series. ending it off kinda tame with haem. no rhyme intended.

the rest of the world was shut out from haemin, he’d always been like that. locked away in the confines of his chest was a beating heart that wasn’t accessible to anyone but you. he still remembered the way your hand grasped onto his with no hesitation, picking him up from a fall on the playground.

everyone around him was playing happily, not wanting to sacrifice their treasured time on the swing sets or monkey bars. but you stopped for him, reaching out to pick him back up on his feet. he wiped dirt from his hand - me - down levi’s short and kid sized denim shorts. you furrowed your eyebrows, pointing at the scrape on his knee.

it didn’t even occur to him that he was bleeding, because he could only feel the dark butterfly awakening in his stomach for the very first time. wind lightly danced against the air, surrounding the two of you comfortably. there was a bandaid in the front pocket of your little backpack, and a bottle of water in the netting on the side. an innocent friendship flourished that day.

you never pried him for answers, never begging to understand why he was how he was; content with the idea that you’d be there for him regardless of what he wanted to share with you. it was a silent pact that went unspoken.

but some feelings never failed to back away, you made him feel small again. the pretty girl that helped him on the playground even when he didn’t say a thing or mouth a thank you. words fell from your lips in a tangent, telling him whatever was on your mind, and he listened. moving towards highschool, this always stayed consistent between the two of you.

there were a lot of girls that were charmed by his mysterious persona, which made them envy you. it was difficult pretending you didn’t notice their glares. by your junior year of college, you had developed you’re own list of frequently asked questions.

is it true that jung haemin was a bully? does he seriously only talk to you all the time? is he pretending to be monotone or does he actually not have a personality?

questions like these made you rub at your temples, trying to ease the growing headache you had. this was beyond whether he was a good guy or not, because when he was alone with you he was perfect. laughing at every stupid joke you made, putting away the ice pack in your lunch when you were too lazy, doing your skincare for you when you weren’t mentally there and just needed to sleep.

haemin often came to your house when school was over, following behind you as you explained to him the course of your day. the sound of a keychain jingling against his backpack made you know he was still there. you had purchased it for him the previous year to liven up his plain backpack, with you of course having a matching one.

when you got to your front door, you slipped off your school shoes and welcomed yourself inside. upon entering, your dog was clearly excited, pattering it’s feet against the cold floors upon seeing you and a common visitor. reaching down, you plant a soft pat on your pets head and run off to your bedroom upstairs.

dropping your backpack on the floor, you let yourself fall into the comfort of your warm sheets. haemin cringed slightly at you laying down in your every - day clothes. he tells you that it dirties your comforter, but you’re too tired to care.

“haem, i just want to lay down forever. can’t we delay studying just a little bit?” your voice is muffled into your blankets.

“you know we can’t, y/n. we don’t want to fail, otherwise your parents won’t let me come over anymore.” he sighs, sitting down next to your sprawled out figure.

“give me like.. five minutes to just relax.” you plead, turning over on your back and pouting out your bottom lip.

“five minutes turns into ten, ten turns into twenty, and suddenly you’re in class with no clue what you’re doing.” he tells you, “you don’t want to regret it later.”

“i despise you for being such a wonderfully productive influence on me, haem.” you sit up from your spot, rubbing your tired eyes.

“do you want me to put all your jewelry away so you don’t have to go through the long, agonizing pain of doing it yourself?” he compromises with you.

“what did i do to deserve you?” you smile softly, moving your hair out of the way as he moves closer to you.

the bed dips behind you, a warm presence of your best friend only mere inches away from you. fidgeting with each little clasp on the back of your neck, he finally wraps his arms around your neck and the jewelry over your head. he then takes two ends of the ribbon in your hair and pulls them apart to loosen up and be put to the side.

he collects each delicate item in his hand and quickly takes it over to your vanity, before returning in front of you. the touch against your skin still lingered, even when he was away from you.

“thank you haem. suddenly i’m rejuvenated and ready to study until both of my hands fall off.” you thank, slipping off your cardigan to hang on one of your bed posts.

“yeah, no problem.” he mumbles, “did you finish any of the homework that was assigned to us?”

“there was homework.. on top of the test that we’re already taking tomorrow?” you whine as he nods at you.

“you should go to sleep at decent times from now on, you’re constantly dozing off in class.” he mentions, unzipping his backpack to pull out a binder.

“hey, wait– you watch me in class?!”

“i don’t watch you, i just happened to notice. plus i saw you active on roblox when i was going to bed last night.” he explains to you, watching your face contort into an embarrassed expression.

“maybe you’re right! i won’t confirm nor deny that any of that is real. but a little birdie told me that if i didn’t grind all night i would’ve never been able to surpass jaeyun’s high score..” you attempt at defending yourself.

“as long as you had fun. but seriously, you should rest early tonight, okay?” he advises, as you follow in grabbing your supplies.

“what did i do to deserve such a caring best friend?” you declared, sitting criss cross on your bed with all your materials finally out, “i already beat him anyways and he doesn’t know, so i live for another day!”

best friend, he was used to the idea of you always calling him that; mainly because it was true. though there was something inching him to hope for something a little more. he wanted to get used to that idea instead.

“mhm, are you ready? i remember you telling me you didn’t really understand this question.” he pointed at a problem with his pencil, looking back up to you.

“ah– you remember. yeah i don’t get it very much, can you teach me?”

the two of you studied for awhile, haemin assisting you in anything you couldn’t quite wrap your head around. when you weren’t exactly focused, you busied yourself in drawing little doodles on his paper against his wishes. though he made sure none of them got erased.

the night came awfully quick, the remaining few beams of sun barely escaping into your bedroom window before it became dark. music played through the airpods you both shared, your playlist finally coming to an end. all of this accumulating made it obvious that it was time to stop studying.

you reached over to your bedside table to click on your lamp, illuminating the darkness of your room. flopping back on your bed, you lay on your stomach while staring up at haemin.

“let’s call it a night, i’m tired of looking at the same things over an over again.” you frown, poking at his knee.

“you’re always tired though.” he insisted, putting his things away in his bag.

“i would get defensive, but you’re completely right.” you agreed, laying your head down against your arms.

“i can leave now if you want to sleep..” he says quietly as you close your eyes.

“no, stay for a bit. my parents don’t come home for awhile and i don’t mind the company.”

“okay, i’ll stay. but don’t worry about me if you feel like you’re about to pass out.”

“i won’t.” you yawn, stretching your arms out, “lay down with me, let’s talk or something. you never even told me how your day was, stupid.”

“i usually don’t tell you about my day though, i just listen to you.” he obliges, laying down next to you but still maintaining a distance. any closer and he might explode.

“then how about we start with that? did you do anything interesting?” you look over at him fondly, seeming as if you could see the gears turning in his head.

“um, i talked to kyungmin in class today before the bell rang. but i mainly just listened to music the rest of the day?” he said, “besides when i was hanging out with you.”

“aww, i get your full attention?”

“well if you put it like that then i guess.” he blushes.

“you’re funny haem, get into any drama?” you lean yourself on your forearms.

“besides the usual people whispering about me? but you know i don’t mind that much..” he ponders back to his school day but comes up with nothing.

“i wish people knew you like i did. i don’t understand why everyone has to be such an asshole.” you scoot slightly closer to him, lying your head down on his stomach.

“it– it’s fine i told you it doesn’t really bother me.” his breath hitches when you make contact with the thin material of his shirt. your face was smushed against him as you listened to what he had to say.

“it still kind of sucks either way, i’m sure there’s a lot of things on your mind even if you say you don’t care.” you assume, making him curious.

“things on my mind?”

“oh! i know we don’t really talk about..” you pause, “mushy feelings, i guess? it doesn’t matter to me, but everyone has them y’know? it must be hard to hear everyone paint you out to be someone you’re not.”

“i’m sorry that i don’t tell you much, y/n.” he says seriously.

“huh? haem you know me better than that, i would never force you to tell me anything.” you assure him sincerely, but that only makes him frown.

“we’ve been friends forever, you should know these things about me.” he whispers.

“don’t beat yourself about it, please?” you trace figures on the sides of his arms, giving him goosebumps

he doesn’t say anything for a second, thinking about what exactly he wants to tell you. trying to figure out if his intention was to let you know what happens in the deepest crevice of his mind. would you run away from him? would he forget your grasp?

“i was kind of, a messed up kid.” he started, “there was a point where it felt like i had to teach myself how to live. and i don’t think you know how much you actually helped me from anxiety as a kid, and now too. i’ve grown so much from you. even if you can’t tell, i can.”

“haemin, you didn’t have to tell me that.” you furrow your eyebrows, worried that the boy is forcing himself.

“i want to, y/n.” he affirms.

“then i’ll listen.” you nodded, letting your fingertips rest against his. he intertwines the both of your hands suddenly.

“i’ve always felt like a monster, and it became so clear that people saw me like that too. i might be the person that doesn’t talk to many people, or that my resting face is too intimidating, but it made me tough if anything.” he lets out a shaky exhale, “but i’m still scared that i’m not good enough.”

“they’re so incredibly stupid for not treating you like– a normal person. you’re perfect haemin, believe me.” you responded sadly.

“there’s so many other things i’m terrified of, y/n. you’re the pink in my cheeks, but i’m also scared cause that means i’m a little bit soft.”

“haem.. i make you soft?”

“how could you not?” he laughs in slight disbelief, “i used to think that, being in love with you would be a problem, but i’m starting to think it’s a good problem to have.”

“you don’t even know how nice it is to hear that. i’ve liked you too, haemin. at one point i started to get defensive whenever a classmate would ask me to talk to you for them.” you confess, burying your hands in your face.

“you’ve had a crush on me too?”

“like you said, how can i not?”

“then what does that mean for us..?” he questions.

“i don’t know exactly. we stop being friends most likely.” his eyes go wide, making you giggle, “then we try something more instead. how does boyfriend and girlfriend sound?”

“i could get used to this, then.” a smile plays on his face.

© 2023 minkkumaz, all rights reserved support your writers by reblogging + giving feedback! it is greatly encouraged and appreciated. thank you! → why feedback + reblogging is so important. ~ (´｡• �� •｡`) ♡ if you'd like, donate to minkkumaz ! DISTANT LANDS AND OTHER ADVENTURES series

48 notes · View notes

poppyandzena · 1 month

Note

hey poppy let go of Noeh

at some point yer gonna have to accept that the rape allegations were a toxic way to remain tethered to someone who wanted to leave you

she told you: no more

& you told everyone else.: that’s rape

what you’ve managed to choreograph is sabotage. and your supporters and former supporters play(ed) an integral role in that those DMs that just dropped — they show that actually, IT IS YOU who lacks any regard for consent (& with such ease)

she wanted to be left alone she wanted to get out

she essentially said NO over and over and over

to BOTH you and Zena

she said NO (MORE) in so many different ways WHILE you two tag teamed her into a quiet yes — that is what you call “coming to an agreement”? as if that was not the result of being coerced

sidenote

routine covert threats (read: publicly announced “ideations”) of suicide in connection to conflict (perceived abandonment) is coercion, poppy you’ve been doing that publicly for months. You are dangerous as a partner. The fear doesnt just go away, it becomes baked into the relationship & in these contexts, it is well known that suicide is a sibling to homicide — it’s emotional blackmail, it actually IS a form of emotionally terrorizing someone. Poppy you aren’t the only person who has lost a partner. My former partner actually followed through & shot themself in front of me. They died in my arms. I love them very much. Unconditionally. Forever. I miss them everyday. People should be terrified of this, it is fucking awful and the violence of this form of death is nothing to fuck with. It is what your loved ones are left cleaning up. Literally. AND I can still name what that was. It was coercion. It was emotional blackmail, it was abusive. I happen to know a little bit about this stuff. It’s not BPD, it’s coercion. Stop that. Stop coddling this. It is solely poppy’s responsibility to learn ways to manage that — idc what Zena’s codependency compels her to say. Zena go get treatment for that, codependency is too painful not to address. That shit is not anyone else’s responsibility to manage. You both need to manage your own mental health, that is pretty obvious

——

anyway,

you disregarded her no

zena disregarded her no

over and over and over

she revoked your access to her, bluntly & stood her ground — that was not cruelty, it was self preservation

you no longer had consent to carry on further as her romantic partner

you disregarded that boundary (or as you would say, you didn’t “OBEY” her boundary…tf smh) she wanted to stop she wanted out she said it in countless ways — to YOU zena and to YOU poppy

This is an issue of consent

normalizing a total disregard of consent has deeply embedded roots in rape culture

how can you all not connect the dots?

when someone wants to leave you - when a partner wants to break up and asserts: no more, you have absolutely no right to refuse & reject that choice

Alla this is how i knew you were an abuser, poppy.

it’s dangerous to leave abusers and that danger doesn’t always mean threats of physical violence/death . Lethality in a social context is a very real thing — it’s a common tactic used. The concept of a social death exists & it’s relevant here.

you all joined in. that is how this works. she said NO and poppy claimed RAPE. think about the implications for that with specific regard to what poppy is always speaking about — predatorjacketing trans women. Listen, poppy you know exactly what you’re doing here. Those of you who have joined in on this very calculated smear campaign need to go learn about intimidate partner violence. And consent. Jfc. And how this actually does tie to rape culture, just not in obvious ways. some of us recognized abuser dynamics very early on.

poppy is a seasoned abuser, she gets away with abuse

the audacity - to put an educational spin on this level of spite, haphazardly making weak connections to your (very) rudimentary take on rape culture - just to use your mental health platform to both obscure and reinforce abusing an ex partner who just wanted to LEAVE you

you have no right to disregard someone’s choice to leave

abusers can be so charming, huh?

so many of you got played

used

thingified

Cognitive dissonance is a mother fucker

You've put it so thoroughly and eloquently. I appreciate your lived experience and the insight it brings to this conversation. I hope you are safe and thriving, because that shit is hard. We all suffer in some form, and we have to stay relentlessly open, honest, and clear of mind. Thank you 🧡

#poppy #poppy and zena #zena and poppy #poppy diabolique #ladydiabolique #poppy & zena #zenaandpoppyonyoutube #nf

13 notes · View notes

quills-of-freedom · 1 year

Text

Short Story ~

No longer a mommy’s boy

Female bodied reader X Jean Kirstein

While in Trost, Jean visits his mom and you insist on tagging along, much to his dismay. But thankfully his mom isn’t home so he shows you around his childhood house…

Warnings: NSFW 18+ Smut. Slightly bratty reader.

Happy Birthday, Jean ~ !

“…And this is my room.”

Jean ends the reluctant tour, briefly opening his bedroom door before hurrying to close it before you could really get a good look.

“Hold on.” You tease, pushing past him and walking right in.

“y/n! Come on, it’s bad enough you’re in my house! …it’s embarrassing.” His protests fall on deaf ears as you walk into the centre of the room and look around with eager interest.

You and Jean have kinda had a thing for a while now. You will both flirt like crazy but no one’s ever made a move. You’re always catching his eyes lingering on your form when he thinks you’re not looking. You’ve also noticed how he blushes when you brush across his skin or that one time you bent over in front of him and he hurried out of the room.

As your eyes scan his room - the citrus smell of his mom’s cleaning products stinging your nostrils - you can’t help but wonder how many frustration wanks he’d had in here on leave.

It was no secret he had the hots for Mikasa during cadets. And now, four years on, it seems to be you he’s had his eyes on.

He timidly walks by his desk, clearing his throat nervously, blocking any access to his drawings that were hidden in the small wooden box on the side. His body tenses when you sit on his bed, marvelling at your surroin. It was like he was regressing into that horny teenager back in Cadets.

Holy shit, she’s sitting on my bed…

“So I’m guessing you’ve never… You know, had anyone in here before?”

His face burns, his hand scratching the back of his neck. “No. Can we go now?”

“Aw… But I’m having fun.” You pout. You loved to tease him. Getting to your feet you walk towards him, your eyes flashing him a look he’d never seen before. But he loved it.

His jaw slackens as your fingers begin to pop the buttons of your shirt; the thought of him masturbating furiously over you in that very bed turning you onto another level. The look on his face is priceless, his skin now crimson as he averts his narrow eyes away from you and his voice begins to break. He’s definitely regressing.

“Y-y/n! Are you outta your mind?! What was in your lunch?!”

You press yourself against his now trembling body, your mouth so tantalisingly close to his.

“I want you, Jean Kirstein. It’s not very often we get alone time. So maybe we -”

He cuts you off by pushing his lips against yours, an instant groan vibrating him as the force of his kiss pushes you back. You both stumble across the room, kissing with haste and your hands roaming one another as he pushes his door closed and clicks the lock, his mouth now hurrying down your neck, his hair already a mess from your hands. Your back arches with a gasp as his starving mouth devours your flesh, making its way down to your breasts and ripping your shirt open with his paws, buttons flying across the room.

“I’ll buy you another one.” He groans into you with honesty; his teeth nipping your chest as his hand fumbles with your bra.

Your leg raises up to his waist, this tall man hunched over desperately to reach your chest, now your breasts were freed from their constrictions.

“Jesus, y/n…” He pants, not able to believe this was actually happening.

Wait. He wasn’t having some weird wet dream and you weren’t about to morph into his mom, was he? That was a horror be didn’t want to experience.

He paused, waiting.

“You okay?” You breathe.

Nah. This felt very real.

He hums in confirmation, continuing to ravish and devour you, now helping you remove his shirt - his muscular bare chest tensing as he then scooped you up with ease, still kissing you in quick succession. His breathing through his nose is heavy as he sits you down onto his desk, the wooden box he previously protected clunking to the floor in his haste.

He groans as you rub up against him like a cat in heat, your scent rolling off you as he trails kisses down your stomach before pulling your trousers and panties. He stands back, your pants still in his hands as he stares at your gorgeous, naked form. His head tilts slightly, eyes wide and lips parting as his chest heaves.

Shaking his head and snapping out of it, he throws your trousers down and with a smirk returns to you, his warm fingers massaging your slit, a loud moan of yearning leaving his throat.

The way his fingers felt, finally touching you in this way was beyond amazing, your head throwing back with your teeth clamping down on your bottom lip.

“That good, baby?” He asks in a breathy whisper, his finger then sliding inside your warm entrance.

“Yes…” You confirm with a whimper, your nails digging into his arms as he enjoys the squelching sounds you make from his movements. His warm mouth trails down, his teeth sinking into your inner thigh, your moan unintentional. He removes his finger and places it in his mouth, eyes rolling at how you taste.

“So sweet…” He gasps, returning his mouth to you but this time lapping his tongue up your entirety, making you shiver and quake on the desk, his attention now your clit.

You tug at his hair, your whines melodic to him, his warm tongue feels amazing his fingers re entering you and curling inside of your clenching pussy. The friction from his facial hair on your ass cheeks and the vibrations of his groans didn’t help in anchoring you to reality, you breathing becoming erratic and your thighs squeezing against his head.

Jeans fingers are deliciously long; strong too from all the ODM usage, his relentless pressing onto your magic internal areas almost unbearable - your coil tightening with great heat.

“Jean! Oh my god! You’re so good at that…” You sound surprised which he shrugs off. He’s got you now, so all he can do is show you what he’s got to offer. And boy, is it a lot as your cries get louder, your insides pulling his fingers in deeper as you unweave, your face flushed as you cum into Jean Kirstein"s mouth.

He can’t help but let his head swell (both of them really) knowing he’s just made a woman, you no less, orgasm. He wipes his mouth on the back of his hand, his throbbing dick needing some attention and friction. He removes his trousers, you eye up his long length that curves up at the top. This was going to feel so so good.

Lining up with your heat he shakes as he holds himself back.

“Are you ready…?” He mutters, stroking your now messed up hair.

You nod.

With one long push, he breaks through your walls and sheaths himself fully, your mouth falling open as you pull him forward and hang your chin over his muscular shoulder; the desk banging against the wall with his thrusts. He grunts loudly with each one, large hands on your thighs and squeezing tightly.

“Jesus…” His voice breaks. “Fuck… Y/n you feel amazing.”

You can’t reply.

Jean inside you feels too good. You just sorta squeak, his head bashing against your g spot.

“Ah~ Ah~~!” You squeal before he picks you up still inside of you and pushes you against his wardrobe, fucking you against it with ease as it clatters and bangs loudly.

“yes… Fuck!” He barks, latching his mouth onto your neck and sucking, intending to leave a nice big territorial mark on your skin. He decides the closet is too loud so he moves you to the bed, his feet still on the floor as he pushes your legs up to your chest, your arousal soaking his balls and groin as he pounds deeper and faster.

Your toes curl, your tits bounce and your eyes roll as he works you, his abs moving under his skin with each thrust of his hips. He places one foot on the bed, dipping into you and grazing your cervix, his groaning becoming more urgent.

“I’m not gonna last much longer…” He warns.

You can’t reply. As soon as he mutters that last syllable you’re back inside your own heaven.

The feel of you cuming around him is too much, a high pitched whine leaves him as he busts his big fat fuckin nut, filling you up ever so full.

Jean’s mom comes through the front door with her arms full of shopping bags. She’s elated as she sees her beloved sons shoes at the door.

Wait… And is that a pair of women’s -?

Her train of thought can’t finish as she hears what sounds like a stampede marching through the upper floor. She recognised that as Jeans wardrobe from the way it would shake as she polished the wood. Her face turns pink as she drops the groceries.

“That was amazing…” Jean whispered as you lay on his chest, those amazing fingers now drawing circles on your shoulder as he plants a kiss on your head. “We… Get to do that again, right? Like we’re together now?”

“Absolutely.” You smile.

You both bolt up when there’s a meek tapping at the door.

“Jeany…? I know you’re home. I’m making dinner. Would your… uh, girlfriend like some?” Her voice muffles through the door.

You can’t help but laugh as your now boyfriend hides his face in his hands, his teeth gritting together.

“Guess it’s already time to meet your mom.” You grin.

#jean kirschstein #jean snk #jean x mikasa #aot jean #jean kirschtein headcanons

56 notes · View notes

creatureheart · 8 months

Text

Welcome!

To a simple blog for me to explore things about myself and my nonhuman identity, and to simply reblog relevant posts and things that I like.

You can call me Pandora. New nicknames are welcome. They/It

[[ Carrd ]] Other Sites — content will be similar [[ CoHost | TikTok | Bluesky | Pillowfort | Dreamwidth ]] [[ Main Blog ]] [[ Tags ]] — my tags for ease of access and mobile users.

Replies, comments and asks/submissions are always welcome.

BYF below — please read because the only one to blame if you see something you don't like is yourself.

BYF — if you don't like, just block/move on

---

I am an Adult(Dec '93). If you are not ok with this, and I follow you, please soft block, or block me to keep yourself comfortable.

---

I am Queer/Asexual and Indigenous(Australian).

---

Most of this blog will be SFW, but there still might be possible adult content on this blog, which will be tagged. Keep this in mind if you are a minor or do not wish to see such!

---

I try to tag everything that I reblog with general, wide tags when they are useful. Use the content filter options and/or xkit to stop from seeing what you don't want to see. I do not tolerate hateful comments towards anything "creepy crawlie"(bug, insect, snake, rats, etc) and will block on sight. I understand phobias and squicks, but they are animals that are just as worthy or respect as anything else is. This goes DOUBLE for anyone that makes comments on people's pets.

---

I'm not here for drama and discourse, don't drag me into it or tell me about it.

---

I use the word Queer. If you do not believe in reclaiming slurs or you tag things as "q slur" just block me. I am also kink positive, pro-sex education, pro-sex worker, etc. TERFS, SWERFS, Radfems, Gender-Criticals, Truscum/Transmed, Anti-Mogai, Exclusionists, Aphobes(Ace+Aro-phobic), LGBwithouttheTQ, etc are not welcome.

---

I am of the old internet mindset of "if you don't like it, don't look" and "don't go looking for things you know you don't like/you know will upset you." I don't really have a set DNI (though some of the things I will never tolerate are mentioned in here) — I block, unfollow and filter liberally, because it is not on other people to cater my online space for me. If I see something I don't like, I remove it from my sight and move on. I take ZERO responsibility for other's online experience as this is my blog. If you see anything you don't like that I post or reblog, just unfollow and/or block. People just looking for an argument or who are rude will be blocked and possibly reported. Comments will be deleted. Neil Gaiman's Essay: Why defend freedom of icky speech? Video: "On the Ethics of Boinking Animal People"

I'm old and tired, and kids these days would probably label me a "proshipper" as I believe there is way more nuance to this entire thing than simply the black and white mindset that the internet & fandom communities have shifted to over time. I do not condone any taboo or problematic content IRL. But it is not my place, or my right to tell others what they can and cannot do in fiction/fantasy. It's unrealistic to believe that anything created that holds taboo or problematic content means the one who created it condones it IRL. This falls along the same kind of mindset mostly conservative parents spat that "violent video games make people violent", which we all know is not true. Censoring problematic content will not stop people from creating it. They will just create it where you cannot see it, which in turn could make it harder to find, and harder to stop when actual harm is dealt. Can fictional/fantasy content affect reality? Sure! I will never say otherwise. But to believe that it always does is, again, unrealistic, and assuming that most people cannot differentiate between the two. Fiction and fantasy were created for people to be able to entertain ourselves, and to explore topics that we never would, or were impossible, in the real world in the safety of our minds and spaces we created. The actions of those who use fictional content as a reason to do taboo and problematic things in real life is entirely on them, and they need to seek professional help for their paraphilias, or harmful actions. If something... - happens between two(or more) consenting ADULTS - makes someone happy - does not harm themselves or anyone/anything IRL ...then what other people do is none of my business.

Dividers by benkeibear

30 notes · View notes

dyed-red · 6 months

Text

I was tagged by @according2thelore to complete a supernatural seasons tier list! thank you for the tag :D

my (subjective and depends on my mood) ranking:

I know others will disagree with me on this but I think season 3-5 are better than seasons 1-2 ^^;

I like shows with a strong plot arc to connect across the MotW format, and season 3-5 have major plot elements in a way that s1 just... doesn't? in general I think s1 is still figuring out its plot pacing, even if it has a special place in my heart. i generally only rewatch a handful of eps unless i'm doing a full rewatch so? season 2 is exceptional but i don't know, the show only hits as hard as it does for me in the more plot-connected episodes (except playthings. maybe playthings alone justifies it being in the s-tier. hmm...)

season 9, contentious and could probably knock down a tier depending on my mood because i have some beef with the retconning and other decisions made but. but sam got double-possessed. i am weak to that, okay? it was disturbing and sexy and the entire fucked up gaslighting plot was absolutely horrible in a very fun way that i ate up like candy.

s11 could maybe go up a tier for me because absolute married bros, but to be completely honest, i didn't like amara. like at all. that plot fell completely flat for me.

i don't think i need to explain s6, 7, 13, 14, or 15's placement here. jack is a redeeming factor, to my surprise, but overall at this point i'm just watching for the brother scenes and tuning out almost everything else.

it's complicated:

s12, fascinating concepts poorly executed. there's a secret better s12 laying underneath the actual s12 we got, if we scrape the surface off the existing s12 and just keep its bones. i live for the potential s12 had and all the incredible things it could have done and been if andrew dabb was more of a proper sicko.

s8? the first half, especially the first few eps, are completely unwatchable. the trials arc is incredible. it's complicated.

tagging: @qprbros @fandom-hoarder @stanfordsweater @jinkieswouldyoulookatthis and anyone else who wants to do one

(here's the link again for ease of access: supernatural seasons tier list)

#tag games

10 notes · View notes

zine-garden · 10 months

Text

Rules & Guidelines

This is a long post, please do not be frightened by it! I have the guidelines and prompts up on my blog, but for the ease of mobile users, I am also making them blog posts.

tl;dr - Use ‘international zine month 2023’, or ’#international zine month’, so I can find your posts; use the submit box if you want; don't use the askbox for submissions. Respond to prompts! Post your zines, post your appreciation for other zines! Image descriptions recommended - Image description guidelines here!

International Zine Month begins July 1st! ✨

RULES FOR SUBMISSIONS

1. Submissions can be the following: Stolen Sharpie Revolution’s IZM prompts, the prompts on this blog, zines made by you, zine reviews, original blog posts and submissions (More info below!)

2. Please use one of these hashtags for ease of finding your submissions, ‘international zine month 2023’, or ’#international zine month’. You are also welcome to ping this blog!

3. I will be accepting late submission until August 31!

4. Nazis, TERFS, fascists fuck off. Bigotry and work promoting discrimination, oppression, or hate speech will not be allowed. This is different from zines with venting or personal prose.

To clarify: A zine about hating your boss or job is fine, a zine about how much you hate women, slur use, or a history revisionist work is unacceptable.

If submissions refer to people IRL, submissions must come pre-censored, whole names must be censored (first or last showing only)

Follow up, I will not be sharing posts that bashes other artists/people. This is an event for showing love to zines and zinesters!

5. NSFW and explicit content is allowed. I will moderate to make sure that proper tags are in use on this blog. I will not be accepting NSFW, lewd or gorey work via submit box or ask box. Please use your discretion with this! Please use appropriate trigger warnings. Please nest anything visually explicit in read more. I know zinesters that uses pixelated nudes in her work! Something like that is fine!

6. Work using AI image generators or tools like ChatGPT will not be shared and you will be blocked.

7. Submissions will be taken in constantly during the month of July, I can say no to anything I want and can take down posts at my discretion. It is very likely that I will schedule reblogs to space things out. I want to prioritize BIPOC zinesters for example.

GUIDELINES

What can I submit? (expanding on point #1)

Note that these are just guidelines, as long as you are doing something zine-related, I’m happy to share your work/post!

Semi-daily prompts and questions:

There are couple of ways to participate in semi-daily questions!

You can reblog the prompt and add your response underneath;

You can make an original blog post using the tags mentioned above.

You can also send me a submission via the ‘submit box’ in the sidebar. Please include the prompt or question you are responding to!

For anything that isn’t a prompt on this blog, but is still zine/zine culture related::

Make your own post, or send me something via the submit box!

Posting your own zines:

You can post your own zines, in celebration. Did you make a new zine recently, is it your FIRST zine ever, did you make a zine in response to any of the prompts? Do you have an older zine that you would like to give a little bit a love to?

Post your work! A photo of your work, scans, a digital file, a cropping, whatever you are comfortable with sharing!

Please indicate if your post is in response to one of the prompts.

Feel free to add your shop link, or how others can access your work. Keep in mind that not everyone wants to share their zines, so there is no pressure!

Please do not submit this type of post via inbox or submit box.

Posting other zines:

Some prompts will ask you about zines that you love or learned from! You are also invited to share loving reviews of zines that you love, or a simple appreciation! Please show those zines some love!

Make an original post!

Properly credit the artist and work. This includes: title, name, any social media username, if the artist has a website or shop, etc. Check to see if you are using the correct pronouns, if you can’t find any, refer to that person without gendered pronouns. Here is a style guide for that.

Please indicate if your post is in response to one of the prompts.

Please don’t re-post other artist’s images without permission, do not edit artist work. There is a difference between a photo or crop of a page you like, and a scan of content.

Preference is for photos of the work, or an image of the cover/cropping of a page if only a digital copy is what you have access to!

Please do not submit this type of post via inbox or submit box.

The ‘ask box’ or ‘inbox’ will be solely dedicated to answering questions about the event.

FORMATTING AND ACCESSIBILITY TIPS

These are just suggestions BTW!

Text posts: When making your own posts for any of the prompts, please include the prompt somewhere in your post. It is preferable if you emboldened the prompt or question that you are responding to; use the ‘bigger’ or ‘biggest’ text type in the post editor; or use the title feature. This helps with visual hierarchy, and makes it clearer to read! If you are adding a response to a question via reblogging, no need to worry.

Please avoid using special text that is copy and pasted from a ‘special text generator’. Emojis and symbols are okay, try not to use them in excess, especially if it is disrupting a text block.

Image descriptions: It is not a requirement to include alt text in your submissions, however, i am highly encouraging it even if it is a short description. When there is zero description, those with poor internet access and those using screen reader will only see and hear the word ‘image’. Submissions without image descriptions will be marked as such. If you misuse the alt text tool, your work will not be shared. I created a guide here: https://zine-garden.tumblr.com/image-description-guidelines.

#international zine month #izm #update #guidelines #zines

19 notes · View notes

kirathehyrulian · 2 years

Photo

💚🧡Wayward Sons Zine 2022🧡💚 🌧️Alleyway Rendezvous🌧️

Summary: Sam and Dean meeting up in an alleyway for a hunt on a late rainy evening. [Ao3]

For more art from me please check out my “myart” tag here on Tumblr. 👇(Art Notes and Bonus Art below the cut) 👇

Art Notes: I've been stuck in a drawing rut so bad lately. It was a struggle making this piece. But, I signed up as a pinch hitter, so I was determined to keep my word when they called on me. It's funny because I find drawing younger Jared/Sam and younger Jensen/Dean to be so intimidating because there's just a big limit on references from their younger years. But, then the mods made a post about being worried people would drop and that worried me. I'm a supporter of gencest and wincest things so I did want the zine to succeed.

So, I signed up as a pinch hitter with half of me hoping that I can do something at least half way decent if they call on me and the other half thinking that they probably won't even need me. I'm just a back up in case someone else can't do their work. But, come to find out for some unfortunate reason someone did drop out of teen section and I was called to make good on my promise. And for what it's worth, I did make good on it.

The mods gave me somewhere around, I guess, 2 months? I got most of March and then all of April to finish. Starting from March 5, I started brainstorming questions and ideas right away. I asked if there was a collective zine theme besides the boys being teens. The mod told me the main theme was them growing up together. And I was going to go for gencest (though if people want to see it as wincest Idc, go ahead) I chose the option to have the boys doing regular teenager stuff with a hunter twist.

After that I asked if there was any additional info I needed and if I needed to be aware of what others were creating so we all didn't create the same stuff, mainly because the last Zine I was in the mods were worried about that. There wasn't any additional info that I needed, but the mod I was talking to did say go ahead and run any ideas I had about what I wanted to do by them and they'd check if I was doing something too similar to another artist. So, five days later I came back with two ideas that I was toying with, "a hot summer day stuck in a cabin/house/motel, or Sam and Dean in some kind of a dark back alley with neon lights". The response I got back was that the latter idea was the most unique. So, I went forward with that idea.

So, before I started sketching Sam and Dean, I obsessively searched for refs of young Jared and Jensen and saving what I could find to my drive for ease of access. In the zine guidelines the teen section said 15-18 years old, which didn't specify if that meant 18 for Sam or 18 for Dean. I took it as 18 for Sam. Which even though gives me a bigger range to work with, ends up making Dean technically a legal adult than a teen. But, I don't specify the ages in this piece so I feel like there's some plausible deniability with Sam being somewhere in his later teen years but before Stanford.

Anyways, I tried to concentrate on refs around those times, but Jared's youth on the internet is pretty much non existent especially compared to Jensen. But, I tried my best even though I ended up mainly using refs from when Jared and Jensen were young adults. I did try to make them look younger than the refs tho, especially Sam. I shortened his chin a smidge and made him noticeable shorter than Dean who's leaning against the wall, not even standing at full height. I also had to brainstorm what kind of hairstyle I wanted to put on Sam. I decided to give him something similar to his main season 1 hair, but a little shorter in length. And that's mainly because I wanted this to look like Sam, rather than Jared and his other roles. I'm not sure how I feel about the final results. A lot of this work was me not really having concrete directions and me just playing around, for better or worse.

When I started, I sketched Sam and Dean first and then tried to sketch out a background that made sense for their positions. I keep trying to do backgrounds, but I don't know if I'm getting any better at them. It's definitely not my worst, but I feel like it could be better somehow.

On March 30th, the first check in was due and I had pretty much finished my sketch. I changed my mind on it being nighttime with neon lights in the background and wanted to color it with daytime in mind. I thought daytime might be easier to color and render. And, I told the mods that "I feel good about my progress, and I'm pretty sure I'll be done before April 25th," which was the final check in on the schedule.

After that I made the line art and colored in the base colors. I put a free texture on the brick wall, and copy, paste, and vertically flipped a reflection of the background building for the background pavement. I added in the signs and fonts with Photoshop Elements 15. But, when I started to add shading and lighting, I changed my mind again. I wanted it to be raining, and the boys are taking cover by some kind of overhang in the alleyway. But, I still wanted it to be daytime, but on like a really cloudy evening where light is barely shining through the clouds. In the end, it ended up being darker than I initially was going for. So, it like full circled back to nighttime by the end.

As some late additions, I added water drops to the foreground, because sometimes water gets stuck to the camera lens, windows, glasses, or eyelashes in rainy scenes and I thought it'd be cool. And, I added a faint passing car light to be the main light for Sam and Dean's shadows on the wall, or at least that was the idea, anyways. I also did try to add graffiti to the wall too, but it felt really distracting so I ended up making it really faint.

Towards the end, I pretty much got sick of looking at and fiddling with it. I get somewhat obsessive sometimes, where I can't let things go. And, it's like the little things in this piece would be driving me crazy, but I couldn't figure out what it was. I was at that point where continuing to try to fix whatever I was bothering me had just as much a likelihood of making the piece worse. So, on April 18th, I turned it in. And then, I waited for May 2nd when the Zine would be officially posted. The next day after I made and submitted my personal art posts. And that's pretty much everything.

Looking back at it now, I'm pretty happy with how my Sam and Dean turned out. I need to work on my background and composition skills (those seem to be what I always struggle with the most) but overall I feel pretty good about the whole thing. I probably need to force myself to experiment more with free flowing, simple, blurry styles instead of my go to where everything has a defined shape. But, saying it vs actually breaking out of my comfort zone is an up hill battle.

Bonus Art:

This is just a peek behind the curtains. I took out the rain, reflection, fog, atmosphere filter, some of the lighting, the car light, and one shading layer. In some ways this version is better for being less complicated, but I do like the moodiness in the official version. I'm mainly sharing this to compare and contrast with the main, and to show that yes, I did intend for daytime initially when coloring, lol.

Enjoy, if you can!♥♥♥

#gencest #samdean #weechesters #teenchesters #sam winchester appreciation #dean winchester appreciation #personal space who?#waywardsonszine 2022 #myart

239 notes · View notes