#And then I watched it and was like oh no no no i perfectly understand the appeal of the climbing scene hahah

[gyeomsweetgyeom]

https://vm.tiktok.com/ZNdNAeyPs/

I immediately thought of jaehyun and sweets 😭😭😭

more of Sweets being an agent of chaos! Hell yeah!!

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ⟡ ݁ . ⊹ ₊ ݁.

⋆⭒˚.⋆ What is this going to cover?! ⋆⭒˚.⋆

(cw: f!reader, suggestive comments)

"You do know spring break is only a week, right?" Fratboy!Jaehyun asks with an arched brow.

You guys were only going on vacation for five days, not a whole year. This was the 700th package that you'd had delivered because you "needed" it for vacation. He hoped you understood that you were all just going to the beach... not a remote island that had never seen any humans before. The beach town you were going to had stores, had restaurants, had rental homes that you had all splurged on, it had everything anyone would need. Jaehyun was, to say the very least, confused as to why you felt the need to buy a whole new wardrobe. You had summer clothes! You had bathing suits! He didn't think there was any need to reinvent yourself for five days.

"Okay, but this one is so cute!" You pout as you reenter the room, now dressed in one of his shirts. You closed the door behind you and plopped yourself on his bed while reaching for the slim package you'd thrown just a minute ago when you got here.

Jaehyun watched as you tear open the package and pull out a small bundle of light blue... string? You squeal excitedly, "wait! Baby, oh my god! This is s much better than on the website!" You wiggle one hand at him, showing off your nails, "it's going to match perfectly!"

You hand the small bundle to you boyfriend while you toss the packaging in the trash. Jaehyun flicks his gaze from you to the blue wad in his hand. "What am I looking at here?" He asks.

You start to unravel it, pulling it apart to reveal exactly what Jaehyun had suspected. Two strings. Jaehyun holds one and you hold the other. You lift the one in your hand, squealing with excitement and a bright smile, "I'm actually going to scream. It's perfect!"

He continues to stare at you like you grew a second head, "I'm confused."

You compare both pieces, a smile on your face as you twist the string around your fingers, "well, I'm holding the top and you're holding the bottoms."

"The top and bottom of what?" Jaehyun coughs out, eyes wide and cheeks read.

You cock your head and roll your eyes, "Jae, please be serious. You know I've been ordering stuff for spring break."

"But you told me you were only wearing sandals for the whole trip. I watched you open packages with six pairs of shoes for a five day trip," Jaehyun details, slowly, hoping that thinking out loud will help him understand.

"I am wearing sandals, this isn't for shoes. It's for me to wear! It's a bikini!" You state excitedly.

He doesn't waste a single second, "you're joking."

"I've been really working on being more body positive, so the girls helped me pick this out! The patterns isn't usually something I'd really go for, but I'm trying to broaden my horizons," you explain casually.

Jaehyun stares at you with with a mix of confusion and exasperation. Okay, yay to body positivity, but you were each holding a string. A string! A string no wider than his pinky nail at that! And- and! What fucking pattern were you talking about?! These were plain, light blue looking shoe laces!

He closed his eyes and exhaled for a moment, "alright, maybe I'm not hearing you correctly. This is your bathing suit?"

You nod, "yes."

Perfect, just perfect. Unfortunately, he did hear you correctly. He throws his free hand up, shaking the string around, "this is a shoe lace! What is this going to cover?!"

"You're so conservative, baby. It's actually really popular right now, it's trendy," you tell him with a nod.

He holds the string up between his legs, "if I wore something like this, my parts would be hanging out! A string isn't going to cover anything, Sweetheart!"

"Well, you have different parts than I do," you sigh, "plus, you don't even know how to do it right. It takes some finessing to get the cutest style."

"I've seen your parts! I've been all up in your parts! No matter how you finesse this, nothing is getting covered, Sweet Girl," Jaehyun borderline cries out, overwhelmed with stress.

You pout, reaching out to kick his thigh lightly, "I was really excited to show this to you and you're making me feel bad."

"Sweetheart, I'm not trying to make you feel bad. I just have never been more confused in my life. Please, tell me you're joking," he tells you quietly, feeling bad that he killed your excitement.

You crack a smile, leaning in to cup his cheeks and pepper his face with kisses, "I was just joking, baby. I got these shoe laces for some sneakers I have."

He lets out a sigh of relief, "I swear I was going to have a heart attack."

You giggle against his lips, "you're so gullible, baby."

"Maybe you can make it up to me by wearing these skimpy little strings just for me," Jaehyun mumbles against your lips.

You break the kiss and roll your eyes, placing a hand on his chest to push him away gently, "you're a freak."

[yrenesbrainrotss]

Loved the part where yandere ENA entered female reader's bedroom and brushed a few strands off of her face 🥰

If it's ok, could I ask for headcanons of what (obsessed) ENA does while her darling is asleep? Thank you so much for answering!

A/N: Hiii I also love yandere ENA smmm!!! Maybe cus i need a lot of reassurance in my relationships but oh well. I am really proud of how this came out and I hope you will love it as much as I do!

Enjoy yall its wild💘

•summary: yan!ENA who loves watching you sleep + extra scenario!!

•warnings: obsessive behavior,stalking,unconsenual behavior,mentions of violence,possessiveness overall yandere behavior, suggestive behavior.

•reader pronouns: not rlly mentioned but reader has a female body

♱ ♱ ♱ ♱ ♱ ♱ ♱ ♱ ♱ ♱ ♱ ♱ ♱ ♱ ♱ ♱ ♱ ♱ ♱ ♱ ♱ ♱ ♱ ♱ ♱ ♱

~pt 2 of yan!ENA~

The room is silent, save for the faint hum of the night outside and the soft rhythm of your breathing. The moonlight spills in through the sheer curtains, casting a pale glow across your resting form. You’re blissfully unaware, deep in slumber—peaceful.

ENA watches your vulnerable form resting with a hunger nestled in her triangular eyes,absorbing you,drinking you with just her gaze,set on your the raising and falling of your chest with a bone-crushing weight .

Slowly, reverently, she allows herself to kneel beside you. Her soft mitten hand pulls the covers down enough to reveal your chest and abdomen. Your black lace top is lifted just below your breasts,exposing your hot skin to the cool air in the room. She bites her lip in a silent awe,inhaling a sharp breath “It appears as if you’re the one inviting me in dear.. how can you sleep so peacefully knowing you tempt me like this…” “Do you even know how hard it is for me to refrain from keeping you away from everyone?!?!”ENA’s cheek soon finds your stomach, and she sighs—utterly content—as her red fingers sink gently into your skin, feeling the warmth radiating from you. She nuzzles her pale side in closer, burying herself in the softness, inhaling like she’s trying to memorize the way you smell, like it’s her only tether to reality.

Her pale hand traces the curves of your waist, following every dip, every delicate line. Her claws move like she’s reading a map only she understands. There’s no urgency—just quiet obsession, a greedy kind of tenderness. She brushes her fingertips up, along the slope of your ribs, pausing just beneath your chest as if deciding whether to trespass further.

Then, her attention shifts.

Your face—so relaxed in sleep. She leans in, brushing a polygonal thumb over your cheekbone, then down, outlining the gentle bow of your lips. She lingers there. Tempted by the pink hue of your full lips.Her pale fingers hover near your mouth, then press lightly, tracing the seam of your lips, slow and deliberate.

“You don’t even know how perfect you are like this,” she whispers, voice barely more than a breath. “you look so mine.” “It’s not going to be very long until you realize how perfectly we complete each other..”

ENA’s words hang in the air, swallowed by the stillness of the room drenched in darkness. She watches your lips twitch slightly in your sleep, and it makes her smile,lowering her head to your exposed neck. Her lips part to reveal sharp teeth, grazing the soft sensitive muscle of your neck and moving down to your collarbone,biting softly.

The brunette sits up slightly, just enough to lean over you, slipping down the sheets covering your body to reveal more skin to her hungry eyes. Her carmine hand travels downward again, slow, like she’s savoring each inch of exposed flesh. Her touch isn’t meant to wake you—no, she’s far too careful for that. She wants this moment untouched by your awareness. This is hers. Her secret. Her ritual.

She presses a kiss just above your hipbone, slow and lingering. Then another. And another.

Each kiss a silent promise. Or maybe a warning.

Her lips curve into a smile against your skin. You shift slightly, murmuring something incoherent in your sleep, and she freezes—tense—but when you settle again, her smile returns. Wider this time. Almost pleased. She knew the medication would take effect fast, you were fragile, that’s why you needed her—to protect you. Who knows what could happen to you.. you were naive, talking to every stranger, offering kindness to everyone.

She slides her fingers along your thigh now, up and down in slow, thoughtful strokes. A mix of lust but also possession swirls in her crazed wide eyes.

“You have no idea, do you?!” she murmurs. “How many nights I’ve been watching you like this!? You really are an idiot… always too dumb to care about your safety.. But it’s okay, it’s my job to take care of you..”

♱ ♱ ♱ ♱ ♱ ♱ ♱ ♱ ♱ ♱ ♱ ♱ ♱ ♱ ♱ ♱ ♱ ♱ ♱ ♱ ♱ ♱ ♱ ♱ ♱ ♱

Sometimes she would search around the room for any trace of stuff that was used by you. ENA would slowly open up your lingerie drawer and inspected anything that might show her you worn the undergarment that day. She would crumple it in her fist and bring it up to her face-inhaling deeply, eyes rolling back at your unique scent. In a hurry she stuffs the piece of clothing in the back pocket of her green suspenders and would hover over your bed once more, before she would leave. Her sharp claws would brush the stray hairs splayed on your pillow, barely grazing you plump cheeks. The whisper of her shaky voice muttering soft praising words but not limited to threaths “You belong to me, dear. That’s not a threat—it’s just a little… lifetime guarantee.” or “Im quite good at finding what belongs to me… you should know I always close the deal..”

You spending alone time ends up in ENA watching your every move.You walk into an old library, searching for new books to occupy your mind in this weird realm. The languages that the books have been written in don’t make any sense to you,but you think that anything is better than complete silence—you needed to occupy your mind either something,since your stress has been increasing after a few odd nights.

You have been sleeping very profoundly for some time, but even so it felt like you could not rest at all,strange dreams and also nightmares kept your mind awake but not also your body. It was always the same, a familiar voice, a familiar shadow peeking through your eyelids,close enough for you to feel their breath and presence over you.

You thought that tiredness was making a fool out of you,giving you paranoic thoughts,nowadays your tasks kept piling up and so you would be more exhausted than usual.

What you didn’t notice was you were being stalked,watched from afar, a chuckle escaped ENA’s lips amused by your obliviousness, you didn’t even see her follow you on the way here—you really were naive.

From another coffee table she would bore her gaze in your direction, occasionally frowning or snarling when the librarian asked you about the book you were reading. She couldn’t stand it, they were taunting her, showing how they could approach you in the light but ENA couldn’t, having to quench her thirst for you by stalking you in the dark night.

Before even realizing she was walking she already reached your table, you perked up when you saw her standing behind you ” ENA! It’s so great to see you here! Are you searching for something to do in your free time too?” Gods you were cute. Your sparkling eyes and innocent smile made her want to strangle the librarian next to you, but she couldn’t- not with you here, ENA didn’t want to scare you away or worse, make you fear her.

ENA nodded, glaring at the peasant next to you with a strained smile who could sense the deadly aure she was emitting. He muttered a small apology and asked you to excuse him, eyes fearfully locked into ENA’s sharp ones and scurried away almost dropping the chair he previously sat on. The dual colored entity claimed her place on the chair next to you and smiled sweetly at you, who just started rambling about this bizare book you were reading at the moment. Her mitten hand supported her chin and still having her lips curled up, sighing at your glowing aura as you spoke about the contents of the book.

Oh how she wished to keep you all to herself, safe and warm, next to her at all times, even if she has to do some nasty things to get there, starting with the librarian. You hadn’t picked up on his body language or the shy loving glimpses he would give you, but she did— and ohh.. she would take care of him.

“…..ENA? Hey…. are you alright..?” ENA woke up from her internal monologue, face relaxed when she met your beautiful curious eyes—she didn’t even realize how tense her face was or that she was frowning.

“…um y-yes..?” she lifted her head in your direction and replied nervously. “I feel like you’re not even listening to me ENA! C’mon you’re my best friend!” you exclaimed loudly, earning a few weird looks from the other people in the library.

“N-no…! No! Sincerest apologies... can you please continue you remained at the part where the main character was…” her lips parted to speak. She lifted her hand to brush a strand of hair from your face behind your ear,a gesture that made you flush a pale shade of pink.

She would make you see her,even if she would have to force you she would make you love her as much as she did. After all, where else could you go when everyone else was gone?

♱ ♱ ♱ ♱ ♱ ♱ ♱ ♱ ♱ ♱ ♱ ♱ ♱ ♱ ♱ ♱ ♱ ♱ ♱ ♱ ♱ ♱ ♱ ♱ ♱ ♱

[bennyboyfics]

Would love to see model!reader who is high maintenance and acting up when Ben is practicing and he’s not having it 🤭

Diva || Ben Shelton x model!reader

A/n: hahah I love this!!!

Wc: 866

Warnings: none just r being a diva 😂

MASTERLIST

-

The sun was absolutely relentless—high in the sky, merciless, baking down on everything and everyone without even the courtesy of a breeze. You were seated on a flimsy folding chair courtside, legs crossed at the knees like you were on a Paris runway instead of sweating through your designer tank top at a tennis facility in Florida.

Your sunglasses—oversized and expensive—shielded your eyes, but even they couldn’t hide the glare etched into your face. Your arms were folded tight across your chest, the glossy nude manicure tapping impatiently on your forearm. “Ugh,” you groaned, dragging the word out like it personally offended you.

“Ben, I swear, if I knew it was going to be this hot, I never would’ve come. This is actual hell. Like, I think I’m melting. My hair is frizzing. And my feet—oh my God—my feet are killing me. Why did I wear these shoes?” Your voice pitched into a whiny register, and you uncrossed your legs just to recross them dramatically, toe of your Chanel sandal dangling from your foot like it was about to give up too.

The straps were digging into your skin, leaving faint red marks, which you immediately pointed out to Ben with a sharp flick of your perfectly manicured finger. He was standing nearby, towel slung around his neck, a water bottle in hand, sweat dotting his forehead and chest. He looked like an ad for Gatorade, toned and flushed, practically glowing.

You looked like you’d been dropped into a war zone by mistake. Ben didn’t say anything at first—just blinked at you, then slowly looked you up and down, jaw tightening slightly. Then he huffed a laugh, but it was dry, clearly unimpressed. “Fix your attitude,” he said flatly, squinting at you under the sun. “Seriously. You’re acting like a brat.”

You scoffed, lifting your sunglasses to perch on top of your head, revealing your full scowl. “Excuse me? I am suffering, Benjamin. Suffering. I’m out here trying to be supportive and not get heatstroke at the same time.” Ben gave you that look—the one that was half amusement, half warning. “Babe. You sat down five minutes ago.”

“Well, it feels like five hours,” you snapped, shifting again in the chair, tossing your glossy hair over your shoulder with a dramatic flair. “And I don’t understand how you’re not dying in this weather. I’m not built for this. I’m built for air conditioning and iced oat milk lattes.”

Ben walked toward you, shaking his head with a grin, like he couldn’t believe he had willingly signed up for this level of diva. He bent down slightly so he was at your level, sweaty and beautiful and frustratingly unfazed by your complaints. “You came out here wearing platform sandals to a tennis practice. What did you think was gonna happen?”

“I thought you’d be done quicker,” you said, tone clipped. “I thought I could sit here, look pretty, and clap when appropriate. Instead, I’m stuck in a sweat lodge listening to my bones scream.” Ben leaned in a little closer, voice lowering. “ I love you,” Your eyes narrowed beneath your sunglasses, suspicious. “What?”

“I love you,” he repeated, reaching down to wrap his fingers around your ankle, giving it a gentle tug—part teasing, part grounding. “But if you don’t stop acting like you’re auditioning for ‘Real Housewives of Miami,’ I’m leaving you out here with the ball boys.” You gasped, sitting up straighter. “You wouldn’t.”

“I will,” he warned playfully, walking backwards toward the court again. “I swear to God, you start talking about your feet one more time—” “But they hurt!” “—ball boys, babe. Ball boys.” You watched him with an outraged expression, arms folded tighter now as you sank back into your chair, fuming but also…a little flustered.

He always had that effect on you. Infuriating, gorgeous idiot. You muttered under your breath, “I hate you,” just loud enough for him to hear. He winked. “Love you too, princess.” And with that, he was gone, back on the court, dripping sweat and stealing your breath in a whole different way.

You sighed dramatically and adjusted your sunglasses back over your eyes. Fine. Maybe you were being a little prissy. But he didn’t have to look that good while calling you out. Rude.

[forsaken-headcanons]

Mute guys hcs (Jason and Taph)

Jason isn't literally the guy from the movie, but he watched a lot of horror movies as a kid and his situation ended up being pretty similar

Jason can technically talk, but his throat starts hurting really quickly, so he usually saves it for emergencies. He uses sign language mostly

He can't get through the entirety of Butcher's Vanity and it makes him sad

He has not been exposed to Will Wood but he would like him. Lying on the floor going "he's so me fr"

He's taught Bluudud several swears in sign. Cool older brother energy. They both got in a lot of trouble with Mafioso and John when they found out (1× encouraged this behavior.) Not c00lkidd or Priincess though

Taph understands multiple languages perfectly but can't speak.

Sentient Helperbot Taph hear me out -

When he's being chased he sometimes makes a sound that's a combination of a train whistle and a distressed owl screech

He's very owl-coded with a bit of pigeon in there somewhere

He and Jason 100% trash talk each each other in sign language

That's it lol

Oh, Jason and Taph, my favorite. Taph being owl-coded is my favorite, as well as Jason listening to Will Wood I fear is amazing.

[pigtailedgirl]

Hmm, I mean for me yes and also but. Because while I love and do think Fraser has a messy concept of what is sexual/romantic love, is perfectly read to not really crave that...and that whole of Meg Thatcher being not for the relationship and deftly coded as such to be over that and more aro than even Fraser by end...

I come back to start of series was not quite.

That there were relationships like Mackenzie King and there was Buck's daughter Julie and the horse lady. Or Brighton as proto- Thatcher even. Elaine's attraction that is overt but not so harassing. Frannie's which is overly overt. Him dancing with Jane.

Despite his portrayal of naive and the truth that pursuing him is a thing he is discomforted by and retreats from...There is also a vast amount of evidence he has in these relationships or in the random pursuits that there is more understanding and agency and interplay than he's willing to tell.

He knows what they want and shuts it down too deftly to be oblivious or in some cases repelled or unable to boundary. I think I see more that he has high boundaries. He knows a come on. He walks a fine line with some too that gives me a read of not so much uninterested sexually or romantically but unable to act.

Or acting in a defined way to avoid. Whether that be cause not interested in them, in concept, in it's my weird take his get off to not have that type of relationship aka. he's playing coy and queer on the side etc. etc. etc.

Which can read more his primary bad experience with Victoria and role-model stunted him in traditional or open expression.

There is also the thing I come back to that Thatcher in season 2 of my read, and the more love interests and ladies takes.

That post Victoria, Thatcher's intro is the perfect opposite brunette he would fall for. Before he gets to know her and genuinely admires her as similar to him in wrapping herself in a role, in having to hide her womanhood for that role or be extra judged for it and struggling with that... she's the perfect adhere to duty, do as I say and it's right even if you don't feel it because it's for the job. She's the perfect cover and authority to find attractive and dictate his acts and sublimate desires with and on.

But then Meg reveals herself to be human and in the feels too. And despite liking that in each other, and freely flirting, they both go oh, well that's neat of us, let's never go for it. Because neither seem to really want.

While with the Rays you have the varying friendship and subtext dynamics. Both having loads of on and off tensions with what does my romances or interests mean in expression of my feels with you Fraser.

And then the double bonus of Ray V in season 2 on sidelines and side-eyeing the Thatcher interest like he somewhat pegs what that's about but can't get Fraser to verbally say it. And Fraser equally judging his stuff or watching because Ray's relationships past and pursuits are influencing their present.

Here's me re-watching Starman and that big rant Ray has on Ian at the campfire and then Fraser's pulling opposite to comfort Ian.

They are in some weird head-space.

Where it's more in season 3/4 that Kowalski's pursuits and overly attached to Stella still are a study in the why he struggles and Fraser's attractions or those attracted to him are a lot of working out his wants and griefs and definitions same.

It's all very interesting.

also think it's interesting that in terms of sexual writing on the show, benton fraser has only had experiences ranging from harassment (being pursued/commented on without his consent) to lowkey sexual assault (being touched in a sexual way without his consent), and various iterations of similar, with the two most obvious being a situation in which he's emotionally blackmailed and manipulated in the lead up to having sex (victoria) and where it's canonically stated that he's being taken advantage of while in a vulnerable state and shouldn't have sex (janet) (EDIT: also ladyshoes, which is interesting in its own right, but i think needs a whole other post, because he's learned from being taken advantage of and plays her game and it kinda hurts to watch)

the only person where it's more complicated is meg, and the more i read into it, the more i think there's a lot to be said for her taking a big step back because she's his superior and has power over him (ofc, i also enjoy the read that she's aromantic, but that also carries a feeling to it that she has some complicated feelings for him that she doesn't necessarily want to ruin by entering into a sexual relationship with him, regardless of how attracted to him she is, and the fact that he would allow it... it probably would end up hurting him, if not gone about carefully)

point being, there's a whole depth of thought id like to explore on fraser and sex that relates to him not only not having language for what he maybe does want (whether or not that involves sex and/or kink) but he's also not been given the opportunity to learn/verbalise what he doesn't want

his whole relationship with sex and relationships, to me, is wrapped up in so many layers of messy experiences and lack of respect for his bodily autonomy that he'd have to unlearn all kinds of things before one could even know under what precepts he'd consent to something on, and potentially that might never even happen, because he doesn't exactly end the show having learned to enforce boundaries (or even, maybe, that he's allowed to have them)

[otterlyart]

Brained and Brawn for @xombigirl

[moldy-flowers]

The interesting experience of being pro Sasuke, anti konoha, pro tobirama, anti Naruto ending, pro Sasusaku, anti Itachi, pro Sakura, anti SasuNaru, pro Tobirama×Izuna, anti Madara, pro karin, anti Orochimaru, pro Uchiha and anti Hashirama. And also as much as I hate the guy danzo was kind of hot when he was younger...

[vally-vall-vall]

Hello, Forgive me for spamming your blog. I saw your pfp was tfp megatron and then realized your blog was as high quality as the pfp. 👌

My ask is whats your fave transformer and from what universe?

Ah, no worries! I'm glad to hear my blog is filled with scrumptious content! About who is my favourite tansformer. Well, it would be easier to answer who isn't my favourite ifbvkdjfv

I'm a TFP girlie through and through. Prime has been my comfort show since like 2011 and I continue to rewatch it year after year even now. I have indulged in other Transformers media, too, most notably the Bay movies, War for Cybertron, Robots in Disguise and the OG series, tho nothing would come even close to my love for TFP. I truly do think this is the best Transformers incarnation in franchise ever created.

About the fav character (aside from the obvious picks like Optimus and Megatron), this is mega hard for me because all of them are so good dfhvbihvfb. I think I could narrow it down to a few, neither is placed higher or lower than the other because I love them all for different reasons.

Ratchet. Absolutely love this grumpy old fart. He's what started my love for the "grumpy character who pretends they don't care but actually care A LOT" character archetype. He's everything I love and nothing I don't, plus I do think that Jeffrey Combs was made to be his VA in a similar way Robert Downey jr. was born to play Iron Man

Starscream. I will be honest, it actually took me some time before I started to like his character instead of just seeing him as an annoying bootlicker. I mean, he's still an annoying bootlicker, but I came to enjoy him! OG Starscream walked so TFP Starscream could run. He's all of his old traits but amplified and made better. His scheeming, cunning nature, inability to shut up to the point the show itself calls him out for it (Operation Bumblebee) but at the same time, he's a pathetic coward. A wet cat of a man, soggy af. I do think if the show came out in recent years that tumblr would have a field day with him. 10/10 I miss Starscreams like him

Smokescreen. This may or may not be a hot take because he's apparently pretty unpopular with the fandom?? At least he was in like 2012-2015 when I was most active in the fandom. I actually really do enjoy his recklessness and immaturity, it makes him feel more like a youngster that's yet to see the horrors of war. I love how quickly he grows throughout the episodes when he comes to realise their fight isn't about personal glory, it's about survival and about doing what is right. 9/10 because I hate the updated painjob he got in season 3

Miko. Also kind of a hot take, since she seems to be the least favourite among the kid trio. I gotta be honest, TFP is the only Transformers incarnation where I actually like the human companions, and Miko I love the most. She's reckless and bold and immature, like any "punk" teenager of her age would be, and I also absolutely adore the bond she has with Bulkhead.

KnockOut. My first ever experience with a character that was so violently queer-coded it rearanged by neural pathways. Loved him since his very first scene. The sass, the execution, his mad doctor persona, obsession with looks, surprisingly scheeming nature, he's just so full of personality. I also love how he's actually canonically married to BreakDown. My only gripe with the character is that I wished he was depicted to mourn BreakDown more instead of, like, just mentioning he's annoyed that he now has nobody to buff him. But also this was a pre-Steven Universe show back when queer characters weren't as prominent in kids media, so I get why it wasn't implimented. I'm still salty about it though

Arcee. Arcee I had to grow to love, and it didn't happen until several years after the show has ended. At the start, I found her to be a deeply unenjoyable character, grumpy and cold and dismissive towards everyone (and especially Jack) and not in the fun way Ratchet was. However, as I aged, I came to realise that she's not just being an asshole, she's grieving. This is one of the key reasons why I love TFP. It tackles serious topics like death and grief very well for an animated kids show that was mostly made to promote a toy brand, and Arcee's character really shines here. I deeply enjoy seeing her come out of her shell after Cliffjumper's death and slowly form a deep loving bond not only with Jack, but with everyone else too. Also how she helps Miko out with her own grief after Bulkhead gets seriously injured. You know what that is? Growth. Nothing but growth and healing for my sassy two-wheeler.

"Funny. At first I never thought I'd get used to Cliff's constant chatter. But now? Now there's nothing louder to me than the silence."

Bro, this sentence is burned into my memory. Forever. It altered my brain chemisty, I swear. Arcee and her grief over Cliff and Tailgate are so well portrayed and it makes one of the best written characters on the show and I will die on this hill!!

[aroanthy]

being gay and aromantic is wild because people will accuse you of hating gay people because you (checks notes) wish people would be a little more critical of romance as a patriarchal structure. the thing is that rgu literally does this, it examines and interrogates how romance is a patriarchal structure. every time i talk about aromanticism in rgu people get very upset about that, as though aromanticism impedes queerness— i did not realise we were still doing exclusionism so bare faced. every time i talk about aromanticism, people get upset. im not even talking about it in relation to the show, instead making a general throwaway post about the weight that people afford anything that deals in Romance, and i get told that rgu is a romance and i should cry about it. like. what? rgu made me realise i was aromantic. i was already gay and that gave me the final piece of the puzzle.

to be gay and aromantic does not mean you Just Have Friends (? what does this even mean, let’s unpack this statement at a later date): to be gay and aromantic means myriad things for myriad people. it means queer sex, it means queer connections that aren’t defined as ‘romantic’, it means queer attraction, it means queer understanding. nothing about this devalues romantic queerness, though i must say that every time i post about aromanticism someone has to qualify my words with a statement about how romance is cool too. and sure, it is, but you can maybe understand how that’s exhausting when you actually want a meaningful conversation about your identity. anyway aromantic people i love you aromantic people and gay people i love you gay people (i am both. godbless goodnight)

[neptunesenceladus]

the marvels is officially the only movie ever. the director knew what they were doing with it and also every designer that worked on it deserves a kiss and a pay rise

[softnonsensesoftmind]

bye i really do love dinner in america top to bottom she’s fucking perfect in the dumbest and worst way possible

[alxclaremont]

there are two wolves inside of you: one feels impending doom at the thought of tomorrow’s race. the other feels immensely hopeful that oscar will get his first win tomorrow or at the very least a mclaren 1-2. you are a formula one fan.

[giolovesyousm]

cosimo: "he has told us nothing for twenty years, clearly he doesn't want to talk, does he?"

lele: "what should have I said?"

cosimo:"we are kids since we were kids, do you wanna tell me who you are?"

peppe: "he hasn't changed he's the one you told you secrets, the one you shared everything with."

cosimo: "it doesn't seem like 'everything' to me. he left out a really small detail, and maybe he should have said that to me"

lele: "ah I should have told you? and why?"

cosimo: "because we slept together, we showered together, because if my best friend is gay I WANT TO KNOW, then maybe I'll decide I'm fine with it, but I want to know it anyway."

lele: " 'then I'll decide I'm fine with it'.. do you hear yourself? do you realise what you just said?"

cosimo: "no YOU realise what you DIDN'T say to me."

lele: "let me get this straight: does it bother you the fact that I'm gay, or the fact that I didn't tell you I was gay?"

[scorpieuns]

SWEET INHIBITIONS | PARK SUNGHOON

summary: you know what they say, never answer a call from your boss when you’re drunk off your mind—oh, and never tell him that he desperately needs to get laid.

word count: 6.4k

warnings (18+): smut. swearing. pet names (sweetheart, baby). alcohol. kissing. heavy petting. spanking. semi-public sex. rough sex. office sex. unprotected sex. light teasing. minor brat taming (?). slight dacryphilia.

MINORS DNI!!

A/N: been dying to do an office siren fic for the longest time, lol. and being a huge fan of ‘the devil wears prada’ this just had to be done.

People-watching was a secret pleasure.

When writer’s block struck or your motivation dipped, your gaze naturally wandered across the sea of Vogue employees—the editorial department, buzzing with energy, some typing furiously, others fighting off yawns as they cradled half-empty lattes.

It was a vibrant chaos, punctuated by the occasional sound of heels clacking or phones ringing.

For the past week, your unofficial subject of interest has been Audrey Klein, one of the junior beauty editors.

Every day at precisely 1:00 PM, Audrey would reapply her signature lipstick—Dior Addict 922, a sultry red that had headlined Vogue’s “Power Lips for Winter” feature last month.

She’d peer into her compact mirror with laser precision, tousle her bangs into submission, and sashay toward the pantry with the confidence of a supermodel strutting the red carpet.

Her heels echoed through the bullpen, catching a few glances like she anticipated. The cacophony of staff chatter and the steady hum of keyboards seemed to fade when she passed.

“She’s at it again,” Anton, your cubicle neighbor and the office gossip, murmured as he perched on the edge of your desk.

He nodded toward the pantry where Audrey now leaned against the counter, laughing at something your features editor, Park Sunghoon, had just said.

“Do you think he even notices her?”

Park Sunghoon was practically a Vogue institution. At a young age, he gracefully ascended to Features Editor after a meteoric rise from editorial assistant.

With his impeccable tailoring, razor-sharp instincts, and a résumé that included stints at L’Officiel and Harper’s Bazaar, Sunghoon embodied everything Vogue stood for: brilliance, beauty, and an aura of untouchable mystery.

But the real excitement around the office? Sunghoon was devastatingly handsome. Unfairly so, as Anton liked to say.

He was like a dreamboat from Ancient Greek mythology, beautiful eyebrows, perfectly aligned moles, hypnotic brown eyes that seemed to see right through you—and a smile that drove the young seasonal interns crazy, though that was a very rare occasion.

And yet, he was maddeningly aloof, entirely unbothered by the countless women who lingered a little too long at his desk.

“Dedication or desperation?” you mused, glancing at Audrey. “I’ll never understand why everyone worships him. He’s…exhausting.”

Anton snickered, twirling a pen effortlessly between his fingers. “He’s also fine.”

He stops, tapping the pen against his chin in pensive thought, “I guess his beauty is an apology for his scary personality.”

Anton was only partially right.

Sometimes, you hated the way your stomach would twist whenever he glanced at you during a meeting, willing away your unfathomable fantasies—because, at the end of the day, his looks couldn’t overcompensate for his personality.

Park Sunghoon terrified you.

Not in the obvious sense though. He wasn’t loud or explosive. Sunghoon didn’t need to raise his voice to make his point. He could slice through your confidence with a single look or a flat, unimpressed tone.

And yet, despite the intimidation, you couldn’t help yourself.

You were stubborn. Always had been. And that stubbornness meant that every time he ripped apart one of your articles—usually with a sigh and a biting comment—you couldn’t just sit there and take it.

You’d defend yourself, argue your points, even as your palms got clammy and your voice wavered just slightly under the weight of his simmering gaze.

“You’re insufferable,” Sunghoon said once, after a particularly heated debate over a piece you’d written about emerging fashion tech trends.

You’d stayed late in his office, going back and forth until he finally waved a hand and let you keep half your original draft.

“And you’re impossible,” you’d shot back, clutching your notes to your chest like a shield.

But you’d do it anyway. You’d rewrite your drafts, re-interview sources, and pull all-nighters just to meet his exacting standards. No matter how stubborn you were, the truth was you always gave in.

You did everything Park Sunghoon requested—eventually.

And maybe that was what frustrated you most. Because no matter how hard you fought, he always won in the end.

It wasn’t just you, either. Sunghoon had a way of getting under everyone’s skin. You’d seen seasoned journalists break under his criticism, storming out of meetings or retreating to the bathroom to cry.

He was unrelenting, unapologetic, and always right—or at least, he acted like he was.

Still, despite everything, you weren’t like the others. You didn’t quit. You didn’t crumble.

And that, in itself, was something of a miracle.

Sunghoon had once acknowledged it in his own infuriating way—after tearing apart one of your drafts and sending you back to rewrite for the third time, he’d leaned back in his chair and said, “You’re stubborn. But you’re good. That’s why you’re still here.”

It wasn’t a compliment—not really. But coming from him, it almost felt like one.

So yes, Park Sunghoon intimidated you. He frustrated you. Sometimes, you even despised him.

You grumbled, returning to the half-written article on your screen. “101 Tips to Get the Guy” wasn’t your finest pitch, but it had been approved begrudgingly.

Now you were stuck trying to make a glorified listicle feel worthy of Vogue.

“Oh- three o’clock,” Anton whispered knowingly before retreating to his own desk.

The sound of Sunghoon’s voice startled you.

“(Y/N),” Sunghoon greeted, appearing beside you. His tone was just as sharp, cutting through the din of the office.

He held a coffee cup—likely a black coffee, cold foam, his usual drink of choice—and a clipboard tucked under his arm.

“How’s the article coming?”

You turned, only to be met with the sharp lift of his brow. He adjusted his glasses, the motion precise and maddeningly deliberate.

“Don’t bother lying.” His voice was cold, laced with quiet disdain. “I’ve seen you staring at Audrey all day.”

“I wasn’t…” you trailed off, voice growing small as his brown eyes narrowed slightly, looking away as your face flushed.

“Sure,” he said dryly. “Bring me what you have. My office. Ten minutes.” Sunghoon didn’t wait for a response, striding back to his glass-walled corner office.

You winced, shrinking into a puddle while Anton flashed you a sympathetic smile. “Great,” you groaned under your breath, scrambling to pull your draft together.

Sunghoon’s office was as intimidating as the man himself: a sleek mix of polished mahogany and chrome, with towering shelves of art books, Claude Monet impressions and archival issues of Vogue.

He leaned against his desk, sleeves rolled to his elbows, looking like a dreamy editorial spread come to life.

But this somehow felt more reminiscent of a REM Nightmare.

“Let’s see it,” he said, motioning for you to hand him the printout of your article.

You stood awkwardly, clammy hands clasped behind your back as he scanned the first few paragraphs.

The silence was deafening.

Crashing a friend’s psychology class one time in college, could only tell you so much about body language.

Furrowed brows, then raised. Short, irritated huffs between each paragraph—the bottom line? It wasn’t looking good.

After a moment, he sighed—long and dramatic—before dragging a hand through his hair and shoving his glasses up into it.

Why did he have to look so hot when he was disappointed?

“This… reads like something out of Seventeen magazine.” Sunghoon dropped the pages onto his desk with a thud.

“Excuse me?” you said, trying to keep your voice even.

“This isn’t Vogue, sweetheart,” he continued, ignoring your indignation. “This is…fluff. A cute checklist for teenagers who are still figuring out contouring. We don’t do fluff here. We do substance. Style and sophistication. This? It’s juvenile.”

Your fists clenched at your sides. “With all due respect, Sunghoon, the concept was approved. I’m simply delivering exactly what was asked for.”

Sunghoon straightened, his sharp gaze pinning you to the spot. “And I’m asking you to elevate it. Vogue readers don’t need ‘101 Tips to Get the Guy.’ They need insight. Depth. Why not reframe it? Something like, ‘The Science of Seduction: Beauty Hacks Proven to Work.’”

“That’s…” You paused, begrudgingly acknowledging it was a better angle.

“It’s Vogue,” Sunghoon said simply, leaning back. “Rewrite it. And please, try not to bore me this time.” He waved you off like a rejected textile, dismissing your presence as he made a call.

The walk back to your desk felt much like a walk of shame, slamming your notebook down with a frustrated sigh.

“Rough?” Anton asked, biting into his sandwich.

“Rough is an understatement. Sunghoon called my article juvenile,” you hissed, collapsing into your chair.

Anton shrugged. “He’s probably just stressed y’know? Winter issues are always chaotic.”

“Yeah, but chaotic doesn’t give him the right to be a jerk,” you shot back. “Honestly, he just needs a good lay.”

Anton almost choked on his food, “with his face?” He smirked, “He probably gets more action than anyone here.”

“With his personality?” you countered, turning to his office.

Over the frosted partition, you could spot him pacing, grateful you weren’t the one being yelled at over the phone.

“Highly doubtful.” You continued.

Anton raised an eyebrow. “I…wouldn’t be so sure. And if I didn’t know better, I’d say you wouldn’t mind finding out yourself.”

Your glare could’ve melted steel. “Not even in my worst nightmares.”

But even as you said it, your mind wandered—briefly—to how Sunghoon had looked leaning against his desk, adjusting his tie with his sleeves rolled up, tearing your work to shreds.

Infuriating. And annoyingly hot.

But he was still an insufferable prick. So, you pushed the thought aside and focused on your screen, hammering out an article that might—just might—finally earn a fragment of his approval without the usual snide remarks.

The city sparkled under the glow of Manhattan’s nightlights, alive with the usual buzz of life roaring in the busy streets.

The day of work was finally over, and you, Anton, and Yunjin, fresh from the trenches of Vogue, stood on the corner of Fifth Avenue impatiently flagging down a cab in the gelid air.

Yunjin had her coat draped over her shoulders like a makeshift cape, exuding effortless elegance as always, while Anton clutched a bag of takeout fries he’d snagged from a food truck on the way out.

“Where are we going again?” you asked, voice slightly muffled by the scarf you were wrapping around your neck.

“Lustra,” Yunjin beamed, checking her phone with a practiced flick of her wrist. “Chic but not pretentious—and they make a mean Moscow mule that’ll change your life.”

Anton let out a low whistle, his breath slipping through the sharp hisses of cold air. “It better for the prices they charge. You sure they’ll let me in? I’m just a humble journalist. Not exactly a hot commodity like you two.”

“Oh please, Anton,” Yunjin scoffed, stepping gracefully into the cab that had finally pulled up. “You’re literally gorgeous, they’ll let you in.”

Lustra was everything Yunjin promised: dim lighting, plush velvet seating, and a DJ spinning music at just the right volume to feel alive without completely drowning conversation.

The three of you nestled into a corner booth, Moscow mules in hand, and dissolved into the kind of freewheeling, tipsy conversation that made you forget the stress the day had given you.

Yunjin, as usual, was glowing—slightly moving to the music’s beat. “Did I mention Scarlett and I hit six months last weekend?” she said, her tone humble yet smug.

“Congrats!” you said sincerely, raising your glass as the man beside you gave the beaming girl a congratulatory hug.

“Yeah, yeah, rub it in,” Anton groaned sarcastically. “Meanwhile, I went on a date with a girl who ditched me the second I started talking about my favorite filmmakers. Can you believe that? How do you date someone who doesn’t know who Coppola is?”

You paused, a bit confused, “wait, Francis or Sofia?”

“Sofia.” Anton simply states and Yunjin snorts into her drink, “Okay, very tasteful but you really need to leave the fanboying for like, fifth dates, Anton.”

“What about you, (Y/N)?” Anton asked, eyeing you amusingly, nudging your shoulder. “Any love life updates?”

You swirled the remnants of your drink. “Not much to report. Between deadlines and Sunghoon riding my ass, I barely have time for one-night stands,” you paused, downing your drink, “let alone a relationship.”

Anton chuckled. “Oh, here we go again. Another Sunghoon rant incoming.”

“No, seriously!” you insisted, waving your glass.

“That man is the bane of my existence. He’s so uptight, and his looks—fine, I’ll admit he’s hot—do not make up for his sour mood. And you know what he needs? A good one-night stand. Someone to take the edge off so he’ll stop ruining my life.”

Yunjin raised an eyebrow, her lipstick-stained glass hovering mid-air. “And who, pray tell, is this mysterious someone?” She shot a brief conspiring glance towards Anton who smirked.

“Yeah…do we know her?”

“Oh, shut up,” you shot back with a roll of your eyes, laughing. “It’s not me. I wouldn’t touch that man with a ten-foot pole.”

“Hmm,” Anton said, smirking. “Methinks the lady doth protest too much.”

You were just about to retort when your phone buzzed on the table. The name on the screen making your stomach drop.

“Oh, no,” you groaned.

“What?” Yunjin asked, leaning in.

“It’s Sunghoon,” you said, swiping to answer. “I’ll be right back.” You sifted through the crowd, briefly apologizing for the noise as you stepped out.

Outside, the winter breeze bit at your skin as you stepped away from the club’s noise. Sunghoon’s voice finally came through the line, crisp and formal. “(Y/N), I need you to come into the office. Fifteen minutes.”

Your eyes widened as you slowly processed his words, holding back an incredulous laugh—at this hour?

“Are you serious?” you asked, irritation creeping into your tone.

“Very,” Sunghoon replied. “Unless, of course, you’re too busy… gallivanting at clubs.”

Oh you could taste his sarcasm on your tongue, and you would’ve let it slide if it wasn’t filled with such derision.

You huffed, crossing your arms. “Gallivanting? People with hobbies call it living, Sunghoon. You should try it sometime.”

His radio silence on the other end—or maybe the alcohol—suddenly gave you the courage to keep going.

“Screw it, you know what your problem is?” you said, words spilling out faster than your brain could process them.

“You’ve got a lot of pent-up anger, and you know what the cure is? Getting laid. Seriously, you’d be doing everyone a favor. Maybe then you wouldn’t be such a miserable ass all the time.”

“Excuse me?” he said, his voice colder than the air around you.

“Don’t pretend you don’t know what I’m talking about. You’re gorgeous, fine. But your personality? Yikes. That’s probably why women run the other way. Just…” you groaned, “let your inhibitions go for one day, Sunghoon.”

“Maybe then I wouldn’t be standing in the fucking cold because of you!”

With that, you hung up, your heart pounding.

You brushed the setting panic away as you stepped back inside.

You didn’t remember much after that. Brief flashes of hitting the dance floor, and sipping a couple more drinks flickered in your memory, until Anton took you home.

The next morning, you stumbled out of the elevator nursing a hangover that could bring a lesser mortal to their knees.

Sporting oversized sunglasses and clutching a venti black coffee, you mustered up weak smiles to your coworkers in greeting, before you slumped into your chair.

“I must say, those glasses go with your blazer quite well.” Anton greeted you with a knowing grin.

He handed you a Tylenol, and you pouted at him with a grateful smile.

“Rough night?”

“You could say that,” you muttered, sipping your coffee.

“Remind me to never drink like we’re in college again.” You groaned and your best friend chuckled, “but it was fun, our first night off since like, ever.”

“At least I could sleep in after that.” You whined, recalling your haphazard morning routine when you missed your alarm.

Anton leaned closer, lowering his voice. “Ooh, looks like someone else had a rough night, too.”

You followed his gaze to Sunghoon, who was pacing the office, angrily critiquing an intern's layout with the precision of a surgeon.

You watched the intern subtly dab a tissue at her eyes when he walked away, immediately restarting her layout.

“Uh-oh,” Anton whispered. “What’s his deal?”

Wait…

Your jaw dropped in horror, as the memories of your call flooded back, ducking under your cubicle.

Anton noticed immediately. “What’s wrong?”

You turned to him, eyes wide. “I think I know why he’s in such a bad mood…”

In a hushed, frantic whisper, you told him everything, recounting your drunken tirade from the night before.

Anton stared at you, his expression a mix of shock and glee—grin growing by every word and detail you dropped.

He placed his croissant down slowly, like he needed his hands free to fully process the chaos.

“You what?” he whispered, leaning in so close it felt like he was about to crawl into your lap.

“I told him to get laid!” you hissed, slumping further into your chair. “I basically said his entire personality is why women run screaming! And I said it while I was drunk in the middle of the street!”

Anton’s face twisted as he tried—and failed—to suppress his laughter. “Oh my God, (Y/N). You didn’t just burn the bridge. You nuked it.”

“Not helping, Ant!” you groaned, burying your face in your hands.

“Wait, wait, wait,” Anton paused, his grin so wide it looked painful.

“Let- let me get this straight. You—our beloved, mild-mannered coworker—called Park Sunghoon, the Ice King of Vogue, an uptight, sexually frustrated killjoy who needs to let loose. Do I have that right?”

“Essentially,” you muttered through your palms.

Anton sat back, folding his arms with a hum as if to fully savor the moment. “You realize you’re my hero now, right?”

“This isn’t funny!” you hissed, peeking over your sunglasses to make sure Sunghoon wasn’t within earshot. “He’s already in a bad mood. What if he fires me?”

Anton waved a dismissive hand. “Please. Sunghoon doesn’t fire people. He just makes their lives a living hell until they quit.”

“Great,” you deadpanned. “Super comforting.”

“Honestly, though,” Anton said, lowering his voice conspiratorially, “he probably needed to hear it. You’re not wrong. He is an uptight control freak, and let’s be real, he could use a night of… recreational activities.” He let out a chuckle, stopping himself when he noticed your glare.

“You’re supposed to help me, not encourage my demise.”

Anton smirked. “Fine. Damage control time. First, don’t mention it unless he does. Second, be professional, act like nothing happened. And third…” He trailed off, eyes lighting up mischievously.

“What?” you asked warily.

He grinned, snapping his fingers and pointing out, “if he does bring it up, double down. Tell him you’re just looking out for his uh well-being.” He covered his mouth to avoid another giggle from slipping through.

You groaned, leaning back in your chair. “I’m doomed.”

At that moment, Sunghoon walked by your desk, his perfectly tailored suit somehow making him look even more intimidating.

He glanced in your direction—just a flicker of his sharp dismissing glare—before continuing down the hall.

Anton leaned closer. “That look was…scary.”

“His looks are always scary,” you muttered, though your stomach churned with nerves.

“No, this was different,” Anton stated. “This was like…‘I’m planning your funeral and choosing tasteful florals for the casket’ scary.”

Before you could respond, Yunjin appeared, holding a stack of mood boards and looking utterly unbothered. “Why do you two look like someone just died?”

“Oh, no one’s dead,” Anton said cheerfully. “But (Y/N)’s career might be.”

“Thanks, Anton,” you said dryly.

Yunjin raised an eyebrow. “What happened now?”

Anton wasted no time filling her in, embellishing just enough to make your drunken tirade sound like a full-on Shakespearean monologue.

Yunjin listened, her expression shifting from confusion to horror to amused admiration.

“Well,” Yunjin said finally, “at least you were honest.”

“That’s not helping!” you snapped.

She giggled with a hopeless shrug. “Look, if he hasn’t confronted you about it yet, maybe he’s letting it slide. Or maybe he secretly agrees with you.”

Anton snorted. “Yeah, because Sunghoon is definitely the kind of guy to take constructive criticism well.”

Yunjin looked thoughtful. “Or,” she said, a mischievous glint in her eye, “he’s planning to make you pay for it in the most passive-aggressive way possible.”

You groaned again, face sinking further into your hands. “I need a time machine.”

“Or a therapist,” Anton said.

“Or both,” Yunjin added.

The three of you fell silent as Sunghoon reappeared, this time striding toward his office with a stack of proofs in hand.

He didn’t look at you, but the tension in his jaw was impossible to miss.

“Yep,” Anton concluded. “He’s plotting your doom.”

You shot him a withering glare. “I hate you so much.”

“Don’t worry, (Y/N)” Anton said with a grin. “If he does fire you, I’ll buy you a consolation martini.”

“Because that’ll fix everything,” you muttered sarcastically as you mentally prepared for whatever wrath Sunghoon was surely about to unleash.

The office printer room was its own little world—tucked into the far corner of the writers floor, dimly lit, and constantly humming with the soft whir of machines churning out drafts, proofs, and pitches.

It was the perfect place to avoid people, particularly a certain brooding features editor who had taken up far too much real estate in your thoughts since last night.

You spent the morning successfully avoiding him, hiding back in your workspace and typing whatever nonsense to look busy, pretending to speak to coworkers when he passed by and making your coffee in the fashion department.

But, of course, you couldn’t evade him forever.

Every passing moment was spent trying to find the right words to say something when your worlds inevitably collided.

You tapped your foot impatiently as the printer sputtered and beeped, taking its sweet time with the twenty-page document you needed for your pitch meeting tomorrow.

You glanced at the door nervously, praying that fate wouldn’t bite you in the ass.

What would you even say? You’re sorry you told the truth? You’re sorry you got “unreasonably” upset that he called you off work?

“Six more pages,” you muttered under your breath, watching the slow machine spit out the pages like it was mocking you. “Just six more…”

The door creaked open, and for a brief, foolish moment, you thought about pretending you hadn’t heard it. But then you caught a whiff of cologne, that telltale wood scent with notes of vanilla and bergamot.

Only he would wear Tom Ford.

“(Y/N).” His voice was low, clipped, and far too close for comfort.

You forced yourself to look up. Sunghoon stood by the door, one hand in his pocket, the other holding a folder.

Even without the blazer, he looked effortlessly immaculate, his white shirt sculpted to perfection, his expression a familiar mask of indifference—except for the way his jaw ticked slightly when your eyes met.

“Mr. Park,” you greeted, your voice straining for neutrality.

You turned back to the printer, focusing on the flashing green light like your life depended on it.

Sunghoon took a few steps closer, the sound of his leather shoes on the tile making your pulse quicken.

“Avoiding me?” he asked casually, but there was an edge to his tone that made your stomach drop.

“No,” you quickly lied.

The printer suddenly shut off, and you cursed under your breath—grabbing whatever stack of papers remained.

You didn’t even bother aligning them, too focused on your escape. “Just busy. You know how it is.”

You turned to leave, but Sunghoon sidestepped, blocking your path. “Busy club hopping?” he asked, arching a brow.

Your face burned.

Of course he remembered.

“I had a night off, it was a personal evening” you said, clutching the papers to your chest like they could shield you from his piercing stare.

"Hmm. Personal," the tall male repeated, the word dripping with irony. "Interesting. Because I recall a very personal call from you last night.”

You cringed, wishing the ground would swallow you whole.

“Something about my... personality? Stressed. Uptight. And my supposed need for, what was it again? Oh, right-getting laid." Sunghoon’s voice was calm, but the restrained anger in his tone was palpable.

You swallowed the lump in your throat, your brain scrambling for something, anything, to say. “I—well, I was…drunk.”

“Clearly.” He stepped closer, his eyes narrowing. “Drunk enough to think that telling your boss at midnight to psychoanalyze his personal life was a good idea.”

You opened your mouth to respond, but he wasn’t done.

“Drunk enough to suggest that I—how did you put it?—‘let my inhibitions go.’”

The way he said it made your face flush even hotter, and your thoughts briefly betrayed you, wondering what it would look like if he ever did.

“Look, I’m sorry,” you blurted out. “It was unprofessional, and it- it won’t happen again.”

Sunghoon tilted his head slightly, studying you with an intensity that made your breath hitch.

“You’re right,” he said after a moment.

“It was unprofessional. And reckless. And frankly…” He leaned in, just enough to make you feel the heat of his presence. “…you’re lucky I don’t have HR on speed dial.”

Your heart was pounding now, and you couldn’t tell if it was from fear, embarrassment, or the undeniable air crackling between you.

“I said I’m sorry,” you said, your voice coming out softer, more desperate than you intended. “I shouldn’t have said—any of that.”

Sunghoon didn’t respond immediately. He simply stepped closer, gaze locked on yours, unreadable and unrelenting.

“Sorry doesn’t fix it, sweetheart.” he said, his voice low and almost dangerous.

“You don’t just…” he trailed off, his eyes dragging over you slowly. “Get to say whatever you want and walk away.”

You stepped back again, only to feel the cool, unyielding surface of the printer against your back.

He was close now—too close. The scent of his cologne made your head spin, and you couldn’t tell if it was the lingering hangover or his intense presence.

“I wasn’t trying to—” you stammered, your throat dry. “I didn’t mean—”

“Didn’t mean what?” Sunghoon interrupted feigning confusion, his hands braced on the machine on either side of you, trapping you in.

“Didn’t mean to call me uptight? Didn’t mean to tell me I needed to get laid?” His tone was sharp, but his gaze softened ever so slightly, his lips curving into something that wasn’t quite a smirk.

Your heart was hammering against your ribcage, and you hated how your breath hitched as his face inched closer.

The atmosphere between you was suffocating, the air charged and stifling all at once.

You couldn’t think, couldn’t move, couldn’t even breathe.

“I—I was drunk,” you reasoned again, your voice barely audible.

“And yet,” Sunghoon murmured, leaning down slightly, his dark eyes boring into yours, “you said it. You think I don’t know what you meant?”

You could feel the faintest brush of his breath on your skin as he bridged the thinning gap. Your knees felt weak, and your grip on the papers loosened slightly.

You turned your head, trying to look anywhere but at him, but he reached out, his fingers brushing lightly against your chin, tilting your face back toward him.

“Look at me,” Sunghoon said, his voice quieter now, almost a command, but it wasn’t harsh—it was soft, almost…intimate.

You obeyed, your eyes flickering to his, and that was your mistake.

His gaze flicked down briefly to your lips, and your breath caught as his face drew closer, his lips just inches from yours.

The tension was unbearable at his point. Your chest rose and fell in shallow breaths, your pulse roaring in your ears.

Every logical part of your brain screamed at you to stop, to say something, to step away. But you couldn’t.

And then, before you could think it through—before you could stop yourself—you surged forward, crashing your lips against his.

The stack of papers in your hand fell to the floor in a forgotten mess as your hands reached up instinctively, clutching the fabric of his well pressed shirt.

He groaned against your lips, his voice rough and full of something you couldn't quite name.

For a second—a fraction of a second—you thought Sunghoon might pull away, but then his hands were on your waist, pulling you flush against him, and the kiss deepened.

It was everything you didn’t know you needed—hot, consuming, and utterly intoxicating. The taste of espresso and something uniquely him lingered on your tongue as his fingers tightened around your waist, anchoring you to the moment.

You only briefly pulled back, gasping for air, before Sunghoon’s lips chased yours again, kissing you with a force that almost made your knees buckle.

It was frantic, needy and messy in a way that came from too much tension snapping at once.

Your heart threatened to beat out of your chest as your hands rushed for his buttons, each one revealing a much more intimate vision of him only the naive interns could dream of.

Your hands landed on his chest as he lips grazed along your jaw, planting kisses on your neck that made you fall back in breathy sighs.

They traveled up his neck and into his soft dark strands, moaning softly as he skillfully unbuttoned your blouse, palming your breasts over your lace bra hungrily.

Without any warning you were quickly spun around, and bent over the printer, a soft gasp escaping your tingling lips at the cool contrast of the machine on your hot skin.

“Is this what you meant?” He asked, hating the way your heart skipped at the sound of his belt unbuckling behind you.

His hand crept up your skirt, sending shivers up your spine as he hooked his fingers around the band of your panties, tugging them down without care.

You felt your cheeks flush at the cool air hitting your glistening cunt, practically aching for him.

“Hmm?” He mused, awaiting an answer before landing a sharp, yet pleasurable smack on your ass.

The sound of your gasp echoed off the walls, gripping the machine as you anchored yourself, swallowing a choked moan.

You felt the heat of him pressing against your entrance, the head of his cock teasing your sensitive clit. You let out a breathy moan, trying to rock yourself backwards to feel him inside you.

Sunghoon’s hand pressed firmly on your back, holding you in place with tut. You felt another smack on your reddening skin, holding back a whimper.

“I need you to answer me, sweetheart,” he instructed, “is this what you wanted?”

You nodded, begging he would take the hint.

Of course he didn't, continuing to tease the both of you as his hand caressed your backside, his lips planting kisses across your exposed skin.

When you didn't say anything else Sunghoon spanked you once again, a louder whimper escaping your mouth this time.

"I can’t hear you," he instructed, a smirk tugging his lips, "is this what you wanted?"

"Yes! Fuck." You rushed, with desperate cries.

Without a moment of hesitation his cock slid inside of you, both of you lowly moaning in pleasure.

You had never felt so good in your life.

His hand found its place on your waist, gripping tight as he started a rhythm, bottom lip slipping between your teeth as you willed yourself not to moan.

The last thing you needed was for the whole office leaning their ear against the printing room door in scandalous curiosity.

“Don’t make a sound, ‘hear me?” He instructed, with every slow thrust, inching deeper as you whimpered in response, nodding hastily.

"That's it, sweetheart," he praised, his cock meticulously stretching you out with every passing second, "So fucking tight.."

You shudder under his tight grasp, swallowing a few moans as he slowly bottoms out into you with every drag, arching into him as he bites his lip at the pornographic sight.

“You take me so well, don’t you?” He groaned, practically sensing the cocky smirk on his lips as he reveled in your sweet whimpers.

He was such a prick.

“You’re— you’re a— fuck.” you cry, biting your lip to stifle your moans.

Sunghoon leaned over, his groans tickling the shell of your ear like he wanted you to break, “I’m a what, baby?”

Your brain was too foggy to form a coherent sentence, irritation a mere afterthought as he hit every spot, his cock filling you perfectly. You couldn't even remember the last time someone fucked you so full.

So much for declaring that you wouldn’t even touch Sunghoon with a ten foot pole.

You let your guard down for a few seconds before his hips experimentally snapped into you, lewd moans tumbling past your lips before his hand instantly clamped your mouth.

“You never listen, do you (Y/N)?” Sunghoon grunts, grabbing your hips and slamming himself into you, his cock reaching even more profound places as you cry out, desperate moans muffled by his palm.

His brows furrow, low groans escaping his lips, “so fucking stubborn.”

Your hands search for any surface to grip onto, surging forward from the sheer force of his hips snapping into you, gasps drowned into his palm.

“Walking around challenging my authority?”

You couldn’t respond, pretty eyes rolling to the back of your head, eyes fluttering shut as he pounded into you, making sure to hit the most pleasurable spots inside you.

“Mr Park? Are you in here?” a voice called through the door, loud enough to cut through the haze of everything.

You froze, rising up in alarm before he pushed you down. Sunghoon’s jaw clenched, indifferent to the reality of the situation that teetered on the lines of danger.

“Yes,” he called back, his voice calm and steady, yet still rutting into you.

His grip finally left from your side, instead slipping a hand between your thighs and circling over your sensitive clit, jolting as your muffled cries of pure ecstasy were heard by him and no one else.

The voice on the other side hesitated, then added, “I have the updated layouts you asked for.”

Your nails dug into the skin of your palms, fighting the urge to scream as he hitled himself deeply, making a mess of you as he fucked into you over, and over again.

You were damn near the cusp of falling apart from everything, yet the fact that he had the audacity to be so calm and collected while stretching you out, sent you over the edge.

“Leave them on my desk,” Sunghoon replied coolly, not even glancing toward the door.

The footsteps retreated, and you closed your eyes in sheer relief. You were a teary mess now, crying at the dizzying sensation of fingers on you, velvety walls tightly hugging him as his thrusts picked up.

“You crying for me, princess?” He moans, and the soft delivery of his words makes your cunt flutter around him.

He finally moves his hand away from your mouth, as if challenging you to make a sound.

“Sunghoon, fuck.” You cry, in a broken whisper, clenching around him uncontrollably as he tries to hold you still.

“I know baby, I know.” He cooed, savoring the way your legs shaked, pupils blown wide with lust as his pistoned in and out of you so easily.

With his fingers, he continued his assault, working your clit in tight circles as your hips bucked wildly. He groaned, feeling your walls squeezing him, threatening to bring him over the edge.

But he wouldn't cum before you.

Sunghoon’s lips ghosted over your ear, his soft guttural moans shooting straight to your core, “such a pretty mess for me, aren’t you?” his lips curled into a grin as you finally tipped over the edge.

A soft, yet long moan slipped was quickly muffled by his hand as he fucked you through it, your toes curling and thighs quivering.

White hot pleasure washed over you like a tidal wave, drowning you in sheer bliss. But just when it was starting to subside, he was slamming his cock into you.

The sound of his skin meeting yours was like music, and his fingers returned to your clit, sending you spiraling back into ecstasy.

Your weak cries of pleasure only seemed to encourage him more.

Sunghoon moaned, a beautiful sound leaving him as his cock twitched. With a few hard erratic thrusts, he came, filling you up completely, not wasting a single drop.

He groaned softly, riding out your highs before you whimpered at the feeling of him slipping out of you, both panting.

The silence between the two of you was mutual as you caught your breaths. Sunghoon leaned down, sliding your panties back up and pressing a soft kiss on your asscheek.

It was infuriating to admit that, just as good as he was with everything else, he was really good at fucking.

[spirngakawening]

Sometimes when reblogging I think "it's been a while since I've posted anything Spring Awakening-related, people might be surprised to see it on my blog" then I remember what my blog name is

[dadsbongos]

hi (⁠ ⁠◜⁠‿⁠◝⁠ ⁠)⁠♡ i was wondering if it's okay to be a little bit feral about viktor here.,..,., craving him. Carnally

let’s get feral about viktor…  general thots here and then a stupid blurb below the cut

would definitely be into face-sitting: pleasing his partner while laying back. hands free to roam and grope and you get to control the pace. you could grind on his nose and throw your head back and he just gets to listen as you squeal.

also would look so so so good covered in hickies….. purplish love bites decorating his sharp collarbones.. he’d probably let you get away with sucking some up his neck since he’s locked in the lab all day anyway

hngnnnggg he’s gotta be PENT up too. he’s handsome and he knows it, but he went from a studying assistant to a full scientist behind hextech so he pretty much capped himself on sex. so when he gets into it he is. INTO it. so needy and whiny and overstimulates himself to keep fucking you just so he doesn’t have to stop

i want him lol… not laughing

~~ 530 words

his careful and thoughtful inflection, each word he says wrought so particularly that no matter how big the words he uses are -you understand each one perfectly with how he uses it.

which is why you take so much pleasure in finding him tongue-tied next to you. pale cheeks flushing and eyes, so ragged with knowledge, wide chock full of curiosity. you’re sure he hasn’t gotten much attention -- no amount of beauty or charming accent can save a scientist from his own devotion.

he got dragged out to an exhibition gala by jayce and he’s been slick against the wall since arriving. no drink or plate in hand, he simply leans there in a bored silence. which is when the last person he wants to see arrives: you, the new assistant.

you spare no time before saddling up beside him with two champagne flutes. one has a dewy smear of gloss along the rim while you extend the other.

“any commitments tomorrow? or can i finally see the famed hextech let loose?”

viktor eyes the bubbles, dragging his gaze up to your face and halting there for an excruciating second before leaning to grab the glass.

“i was just thinking of leaving,” he admits, “these public showings are not my idea.”

“go figure. i think everyone here’s gathered that.”

“jayce can handle any questions of the evening…” viktor sighs, frowning down at the champagne, “sad that you wasted your time getting me the glass.”

“you know, i do wonder how many girls out in town dream about jayce. he’s the face -a pretty face- for hextech,” viktor raises a brow at you prodding for explanation, “i just don’t understand how they can overlook the brains.”

viktor jumps, gaze startling down to his feet, a stiff response already spilling, “jayce is half the brain, and so am i.”

“then i guess i just need to tell you that i think you’re cute.”

a flurry of excuses storms behind his eyes before he catches his breath, shoulders drooping as he exhales and realizes: he doesn’t have to find an excuse. he doesn’t have to refuse you at all. 

he’s not working tonight. you’re not working. he can’t remember the last time he got to act like a normal man with normal desires rather than fulfilling some vague purpose. an idyllic achievement.

he could just be a man tonight.

so he clinks his glass against yours with a soft smile, “then i’m assuming you’re not busy tomorrow, either?”

“i am not,” you beam, sliding closer toward him.

and good thing; both of you having the next day off means you can pull viktor into your apartment, and then your bed. he lets you guide the night, watching with uncharacteristic amazement as you strip -- he looks so mesmerized his hands clench, itching to scale up your bare sides.

you swing a leg over him when he’s sat against your headboard, “you okay, vik?” he tilts his head only for you to cup his cheeks and keep his head straight, “you’re all flushed.”

“your forwardness,” he blinks up at you, heart thrumming between his ribs, “it scares me.”

“oh?”

“i’ve never been more aroused.”

“oh…”

… in another world i will write a viktor fic with this same premise… it is so. Interesting to me.