#I actually have more but it's not done yet

[satorena]

#INTRO2MUNCH101

summ. when suguru “eat it off the bone” geto actually turns out to be suguru “flaps the left lip until she calls it a night” geto, he finds himself questioning everything he thought he knew about his skills. . . talk about a rude awakening.

cw. explicit content. foul language. fem!reader. college!au. eventual smut (but not in the way you think. . .) mild modern lingo. allusions to music artists. cunningulūs. male masturbation. reader has a belly piercing. she’s also depicted mean by the boys. gojo cameos bc i can’t not mention him. tattoo artist!geto. substance consumption. lowkeyyy self-indulgent reader. 10k wc.

rena's note. this is a spin-off to p power, so i’d suggest reading that first to understand the correlation!

suguru geto is a simple man.

your pleasure is his pleasure. he’s always prided himself on being a pro at the art of cunningulus. honest— he’s always left with swollen lips, a heavily sprayed face and a solid five star ratings at the end of his work. his jaw feels tired out, scalp burning from consistent hair tugs, and his breathing uneven from lack of oxygen. but at the feel of plush thighs squeezing his face and the repetition of his name flowing into the air before getting squirted on, he remembers it’s always worth it.

no pain no gain, right?

wrong.

because here he finds himself, a hefty hour in since he first dove in between your soft legs, and there’s been absolutely no development. sprawled on your back on his sheets, arm slung over your eyes, and your breathing even. you look fucking bored, and his heart is sinking to his ass.

geto will use every trick he has in the book. he’s noticed overtime that girls have different bodies, therefore he needs different tactics to stimulate those bodies. he nips at your puffy bud, sucking on your clit for external pleasure. no use. fine, then he’ll push your thighs up some more for a deeper penetration of his fingers in your cunt— still no use. the only sounds being produced are his mouth slipping against his own saliva at your pussy because he can’t even get you wet enough.

the pit in his stomach grows larger. he wonders if maybe you’re just the silent type? he’s come across those before.

he’s getting nervous out of his mind, so shaky and uncoordinated that his hand slips and meets your lips for the umpteenth time— and only then do you release a guttural groan, the very first sound you’ve made in a long ass time. wait—

“did. . . did you cum?” he pants, pulling his sticky lips away from yours. his face feels moist, blood rushing all in his head and he’s lightheaded. but still, he has to know.

you push yourself up to your elbows, annoyance clear as day. he’s yet to seen this look on a girl after pulling every card known on the table, “yeah. . . to the wrong fucking house.”

oh fuck.

☆ ☆ ☆

he first spotted you chatting it up with your friends on the school’s soccer field, on a random tuesday afternoon, and he’s been hooked on you ever since.

the universe played a funny game, and he realized university truly is a small ass world. amongst your friends, he noticed a familiar face. one he’s been hearing and seeing of one too many times lately, on multiple separate and traumatic occasions— gojo’s girlfriend. suguru found himself bonding with her due to their familiar point of interest— that being gojo— and believes he can now make of her a friend.

geto watches his best friend’s eyes shimmer and he flashes his infamous million dollar smile. he really is obsessed with his girlfriend and she doesn’t even know— and geto finds himself wishing he had somebody he’d be this ecstatic over. must be nice.

“i’m gonna go say hi to my girl real quick,” gojo taps at his shoulder, and geto nods. he’s cool on it, he’ll wait back here until he’s done, or can make his way to his next class depending on whatever gojo and his girlfriend arrange. “you comin’?”

“i’m probably gonna head to our next lecture.” geto voices out, pulling his phone from his pocket to check the time. he feels gojo peeking over his shoulder, in which he assumes to verify if that would be necessary.

over forty-five minutes. damn it.

“that’s mad pointless, class doesn’t start till more than half an hour,” gojo says, and geto doesn’t see himself waiting around that long for a lecture. no way, “just come— her friends are chill.”

fuck it, he goes. naturally, gojo is all over his girl and her friends expect it. geto does give them a little wave when gojo introduces him. one of the girls mention having heard of him through a friend— something about a failed talking stage. mad federal, and the sheepish chuckle geto offers when you give him an unreadable look makes him want to crawl into a ditch.

so now you think he’s a whore. awesome.

and gojo’s smirk definitely doesn’t help him out. he doesn’t help out at all actually, so enamoured by his girlfriend that he leaves geto to fend for himself against a pack of wolves (read: nosy girls). he replies only when spoken to, nods when necessary and throws in a few “that’s crazy,” to which the girls fail to pick up he’s out of words to say.

well, everyone except you.

you’re quiet. in fact, the whole time, you haven’t said shit to him. you sit back and observe, occasionally typing on your macbook, or reapplying your lip combo. you didn’t have any words to say to him. even when your friends would talk to you, you gave them short answers and went back to listening to whatever was playing in your airpods. he could tell from that small interaction alone, you were the mean one out of your clique.

and fuck if that didn’t make him want you more. there was just something about mean women that made him want to break through their fake ass exteriors and watch them turn all soft and chummy for him.

blame it on his corruption kink.

gojo confirms his thoughts when they’re finally on their way to class. he kissed his girl goodbye and waved off her friends, to which they all (minus you) collectively cooed, “byeee gojooo!” which he found odd, but kept silent. he gave them a small nod before following his best friend.

they’re a few steps in the science building when the words slip before he can help it, ultimately cutting gojo’s rambling off, “yo, who was that girl?”

gojo glances at him before chuckling, “there was like seven of ‘em. which one?”

“the quiet one.”

it throws him off guard when gojo laughs hard. like, really hard. it attracts the attention of bystanders, who give him a crazy look but gojo ignores. as if they’d try to press him about his volume— the two were pretty adored around campus.

geto does find his reaction quite interesting, to which he cocks a brow and offers a chuckle of his own, “what?”

“oh, you definitely mean y/n,” when his laughter dies down, he finally answers. he lifts his shades to his hairline to swipe a tear. “she’s mean as fuck, bro.”

“right?!” geto laughs, tapping at gojo’s shoulder. it only charges gojo’s laughing fit back up, “i could tell from her vibe. she gives off those ‘men ain’t shit’ girlies on twitter. whole time, she’s probably laid up in bed with one.”

“you don’t even knowww,” gojo holds his shoulder and shakes him a bit. geto does in fact know, because he’s dealt with girls like her before. they’re always a good ass time. “she does men dirty. like, absolutely dogs them. heard one phone call too many.”

oh? even better than he expected. she’s probably the type that used to love hard before getting her heart trampled on and decided to seek revenge on all men. like, on some jennifer’s body shit. geto can’t help but smirk, “lemme see for myself. put me on.”

gojo falters in his step. his grip on geto’s shoulders loosen and his expression changes— not by much, but the once lighthearted smile switches to a skeptical one, “you serious?”

geto lets out a soft sigh, shrugging gojo’s hands off his shoulders. “don’t start asking too much. i did a favour for you and your girl, didn’t i?,” well, technically speaking it wasn’t like his comment had been the deciding factor for the two, but it did open gojo’s eyes. “you owe me one.”

“i don’t owe you shit,” gojo laughs, throwing his arm around geto anyways, “buuut you’re my boy and i’m not stingy. i’ll see what i can do, i know you’ve been getting a lil jealous of wifey and i.”

“shut the fuck up.” geto’s chuckles contradict his statement.

from that point on, it’s smooth sailing. gojo texts his girl asking if she’s seeing anybody. they have a little back and forth because his girlfriend assumes he’s asking for himself— which gojo gets all dramatic and throws geto under the bus for free. welp! it all worked out anyway since after he and gojo parted, you’d thought he was fine shyt. judging from your character, he doesn’t exactly take gojo’s words for what they are.

but he’ll take the opening, it’s as good as any.

time to plot.

☆ ☆ ☆

the second encounter was purely coincidental. and simultaneously embarrassing.

see, geto prides himself on his mysterious act— granted he was anything but. people see all that is gojo and automatically assume that geto has to be the cool one. it creates a perfect balance, no?

haven’t people heard of birds of a feather flock together?

so yes, he’s also a nerd. he typically enjoys spending his wednesday afternoons at dice board cafes because why not. it’s a chill, lowkey joint right off campus and not a lot of people gravitate towards, therefore the perfect spot to camp out before his evening lecture.

besides, his buddy choso works there and it gets him discounts. it isn’t the only reason he shows up, but it does help a lot on his pockets. being a student is awful, financially.

geto sips on his choco latte through a straw, browsing through the board games pamphlet as he decides what he’s going to play today. most of these games are pretty pointless if he doesn’t have an opponent, but he likes to think it helps develop his iq. he hears avenoir playing through the cafe and knows choso’s on aux.

who else could be playing this toxic ass shit?

he’s torn choosing between snakes and ladders or chess when he hears chimes at the front door, signalling somebody’s entered the establishment. he doesn’t think much of it, going on about minding his business when he hears choso say your name.

the latte enters the wrong tube and he chokes.

geto collects himself quickly, wiping any stray liquid past his mouth as his head snaps up. you’re propped up against the counter, and though he can’t see your face, he definitely recognizes your build. . . okay, yeah that sounds fucking pervy but if he stalked your page a few times, who’s business is it but his own? it’s not like you’d know. granted, he had got caught up liking one of your older photos but he took the like right back!

he debates on walking up to you. how would that even work without seeming desperate? you’ve been checking out all of his boxes so far— your face, body and attitude (question mark) are all tens. he does want to get to know you— at least be somebody in your life. but damn, why is he overthinking this? all he has to get up there and sweet talk you. he’s done this shit before.

“yo, suguru!”

shit.

purple orbs shift towards where his name was called, and lo and behold, there stands choso. and naturally, you look back to who was summoned, but god— social media does not do your face justice. he last seen you about a week ago, and had nothing but your instagram and his memory to rely on.

he makes his way to the counter and ignores you. doesn’t spare you a glance once— though he stands right at your side and watches you watching him through his peripheral. he nods at choso, “what’s up?”

choso, ever the genius, flicks his eyes between geto and you, before clearing his throat, “shoko just texted— somethin’ about a new client. how’s the studio looking?”

“booked all week,” geto answers truthfully, and he notices you’ve shifted your gaze, “little to no openings. why though?”

choso hums, jolting down online orders into a little notebook, “not even for a special friend?”

geto squints his eyes at that. there isn’t anybody he’d call a special friend that hasn’t already been booked or wouldn’t have his number to squeeze in an appointment. granted, he is a dnd warrior but even his friends know of that quirk of his, “depends. who’s the special friend?”

“me.” and he feels his heart skip a beat. fuck. he tilts his head over to the side, and good lord, your face card gave every girl on campus runs for their money. seriously, your facial features complimented you in a way that told aphrodite— the textbook definition of beauty— to go fuck herself, and hard.

“oh?” geto cocks a brow, and lets his eyes roam up and down your frame. shameless, yes, but he has a reputation to uphold. your rest in face makes his own look like child’s play, “didn’t realize we were on special friends basis.”

you click your tongue, “didn’t realize we were on lurking spam accounts but pretend we don’t exist the next day basis either,” you quip right back, picking at the white bow glued to your acrylics.

sassy. geto chuckles, now fully turning his body around to face you. you match his movements, and he toys with a ring on his middle finger, “guess you got me all figured out,” he pauses, shifting his gaze to choso, who’s already eyeing him. “sounds like you wanted me to reach out.”

“boy please,” you scoff, pausing your nail inspection. you let your hand hang, “you choked earlier because you heard my name. that corny nonchalant act isn’t the flex you’re thinking it is,” a huff escapes your lips, and geto feels blood rushing to his face. “your lurking ass was months deep into my page just a week ago— did you find any men ain’t shit vibes from the photo dump?”

choso stifles a laugh, and when geto looks at him, it dies into a cough. well damn, you really didn’t hold anything back. read him like a book actually— and it doesn’t help that gojo can’t keep his mouth shut for shit. it widens the grin on his face. he thinks he likes you.

“well,” geto smirks, “can’t say i have— means there’s still an opening.”

you furrow your brows, “oh? an opening to what exactly?”

“an appointment, of course,” he shrugs, running a hand through his hair. his locks are getting in his face, but the messy look always gets him compliments. might as well shoot his shot, “you know. . .” leaning his chin into the palm of his hand, “for a special friend.”

his double entendre definitely doesn’t go unnoticed by you. he watches how, despite the mean mugging, there’s a glint of mischief in your eyes. you’re squinting just slightly, almost as if you were weighing out the pros and cons. geto won’t break the eye contact first— he’s on a mission. he hopes the tired eyes look will be on his side this time.

tattoo or dick appointment— he would one hundred percent make an opening for you. anything to get his hands on your body.

“are we still talking about the tattoo parlour or . . .”

both you and he turn to choso, who’s watching the situation unfold. just count on him to ruin the mood, whether the obliviousness was feigned or not. choso tightens his brows at the look geto shoots him, “what?”

“i’m gonna head out,” you grab at your handbag, hopping of the seat. nicely played choso. you gather your items and slip them in your purse, sliding a few bucks across the counter. choso grabs the bills and stick them in the tip jar, nodding at her. “catch you in poly sci?”

“if you don’t skip again.” choso snorts and you flip him off, slinging your bag over your shoulder. you turn on your heel and make your way towards the exit, ultimately dismissing geto. that doesn’t feel too nice, he should probably stop that bad habit.

he rises to his feet before he can help it. his hand grabs at your wrist and notices how much smaller it seems in comparaison to his, and he hates the next words that leave his mouth, “what about me?”

you glance down at his hold on you, before looking back up at him, “what about you?” your face says everything your lips haven’t— you’re getting the ick.

he wants to wince. okay, yeah that was corny, “when do i get to see you?”

you drag out a mini hum, your gaze dancing over his silver chain around his collarbone, “dunno. you have my socials so i assume in the next hour.”

he tilts his head to the side, and the pad of his thumb grazes over your smooth skin. he doesn’t fail to notice the way your hand stiffens under his touch, “so if i slide in your dms in the next hour, i can expect an answer?”

a snort leaves your chest, and he can’t tell if it’s a condescending one or an amused one. what he does know, however, is that he’s going to be seeing you sometime soon. you take your hand back into your possession before laying it in the dead centre of his chest, pushing him back just slightly, “i’ll see you around, geto.”

his eyes trail over your figure, every step you take out of the establishment, slightly starstruck by the entirety of you— your boldness. the thrill he was beginning to feel felt like a high. he hasn’t met anybody this entertaining in a while.

“you’re so fucking corny.” he thinks he hears choso insult him from behind. he doesn’t pay him any mind, despite the middle finger that tips towards the ceiling. partynextdoor blasts in the cafe, specifically freak in you, and he hates how he finds himself relating to the lyrics,

room full of beautiful women but he only wants one.

☆ ☆ ☆

“you stalking me, pretty?”

“sure,” you nod your head, raking through the items on the clothing rack. you don’t spare him a single glance, picking a top off the rack and inspecting it, “if stalking means visiting the busiest thrift store on the busiest hour in the busiest city.”

geto lets out a small laugh, shoving his hands in the pockets of his cargos. you make him feel like a nuisance, like he’s a pest wasting your time. ironic, seeing as he wasn’t that much of a bother just last night, when you’d been indulging him in your inbox, “of course you’re the thrifting type.”

you pause your actions, price tag in your fingers as you side eye him through locks of your hair, “and you’re not?”

“didn’t mean it in a bad way, sweetheart.” geto shrugs, pulling off a cropped baby tee and bringing towards you. it has sequins sewn in the material, the gems writing out juicy couture. “this would suit you— belly piercing and whatnot.”

the top is cute, there was no denying so. a pretty shade of pink that suited your complexion, but letting his ego inflate bigger than it already was out of the question. he could tell your thought process from the judgmental look you offered, “oh god—you’re one of those fake ass, streetwearing fashionistas, aren’t you?”

geto blinks a few times, before letting out a sincere laugh. he’s been called a multitude of things before, but that one was new, “you got all that from me suggesting you buy this juicy couture tee? don’t all girls fiend over this vintage shit?”

“it’s that corny ass personality of yours,” you grab the shirt, throwing it in your cart. he wants to make a comment on that, but you beat him to the chase, “the phoney nonchalant act, the streetwear, your insta aesthetic— you’re so scripted.”

“my insta aesthetic?” he repeats, and doesn’t miss a step to catch up to you. your hands are back on the handle of your shopping cart, and if the way his elbows bump into your shoulders bothers you, you don’t make point in commenting on it. “who’s the lurker now, hm?”

you roll your eyes, pushing the strolley ahead, “don’t let it get to your big ass head. your feed screams you’re those toxic ass brent faiyaz wannabes,” he watches your fingertips rake through more clothings that pass your way, before you shoot him a glance, “let me guess— he showed on your spotify wrapped.”

his silence speaks volumes, and you click your tongue, “see? scripted.”

“and what about you?” geto counters when you make a pit stop. you pull away from your cart when a denim skirt catches your eye. you lift the skirt up to your eyes, before looking over your shoulder, cocking a brow.

“what about me?”

“the tweet reposts, the song choices for your highlights, the whole spiritual baddie persona,” he presses behind you, his chest meeting your back. he rests his chin atop your head, purple eyes landing on the clothing article that’s lowering in your hold, “if my page gives brent then yours definitely gives jhene.”

you’re mute for a second, and you chuck the skirt into the cart. you pull away from beneath him, spinning on your feet to face him, and you’ve got a scowl on your lips, “what’s wrong with jhene?”

“and you call me the toxic one.” geto pokes at your cheek. you swipe his hand away, and he laughs, “don’t get me wrong though— she makes good music. but let’s not act like she’s all innocent either,” his gaze lowers to your glossy lips, the fullness of the pair hypnotic, “a real freak. should i call you my pussy fairy?”

“do not,” you reply, weaving around him to make your way back to your cart. geto laughs, snatching a few things of the racks before dumping them in your stuff. you give him a deadpanned look and he whistles it off, feigning ignorance. “jhene’s a lovergirl. thought i was part of the men ain’t shit community.”

“you’re not gonna let that go, are you?” geto sighs. he owes gojo another thump in the head.

you roll your eyes, “thank your homeboy for that.”

“two things can be true at once,” geto fiddles with the hem of his jacket. he’s back at walking step by step with you, and you haven’t told him to fuck off yet, so he’s going to milk the opportunity out. “you’re mean but a lovergirl. you hate men but a real freak with them. right or wrong?”

you halter in your steps, and geto’s now a few steps ahead of you, so he looks over his shoulder to meet your bored expression, “i know you’re not trying to read me in the middle of value village.”

“no better time than the present,” he smiles, one that creases a dimple in his cheeks. “come on up— what are you waiting for?”

you stare at him some more, inhaling sharply, “mind you, i never invited you to join me,” you shake your head but comply regardless. cute, looks like you’re enjoying his company more than you’re letting on.

so he graces you his presence some more. he shops along with you, sneaks clothes into your cart when you’re distracted and asks you stupid questions. it’s a good time— to him at least, being able to get to know you some more without interruptions. naturally, you feign that his company is the bane of your existence, but he doesn’t miss the twitch of your lips when he taps his card into the reader at the check out.

hell yeah he’s got money to spend and is willing to show off if it means getting on your good side.

it’s only after he helps you bag your shit into your car, that he realizes this is where the both of you part ways. it annoys him slightly, but he doesn’t need to overstep his boundaries. he closes your trunk and makes his way to the driver’s side, where you’re already buckled up.

he taps at your window and the glass rolls down all the way, to which he leans forward. he’s in your line of sight now and you sigh, tilting your head sideways, “what?”

“do i get a goodbye kiss?” geto teases, honest, the boyish smirk he offers accentuating the playful undertone. the last thing he expects is you shifting in your seat, pushing yourself up and peaking your head out the window.

his smirk drops, brows jumping to his hairline. you’re really fucking close now, and for a split second he thinks you’re actually going to do it. he can see the flecks of colours swimming in your orbs, the tip of your nose bumps into his and your breath fans his cupid’s bow.

fuck, you smell really good. he bets you taste even better. his mouth is running dry, mindlessly darting his tongue out to wet his own lips. he doesn’t realize he’s let himself lean into your space, eyes narrowing on your mouth parting over his.

he’s pulled out of his trance when two fingers press at his forehead and push. he blinks his lashes, snapping back to reality as you sit back into your seat. you look amused— as if you’d played the funniest game right in his face and he’d been the star player.

“i’ll see you around, geto.”

and you drive off.

☆ ☆ ☆

“come back in a few weeks for a checkup. we’ll make sure the healing process is running smoothly. i’ll catch you soon.”

he lets out a tired sigh when the door finally closes, slumping into his seat and shuts his eyes. he’s exhausted— having woken up early for lectures and labs to back to back appointments with clients. this time around, the parlour is always booked and busy. students find it the perfect timing to get tatted to let it heal before showing it off in the summer.

it’s smart for them but idiotic for him. midterms are up, and the only time he has to study is in between appointments. he slides off his gloves and drags his seat towards his desk, redirecting his attention focus towards the blinding screen.

he feels a headache building at his temple, sipping at his iced coffee to keep him energized. contradicting, sure, but you didn’t have the luxury to be a beggar and a chooser when you were a full time student. the parlour he ran resided in his loft apartment, on the second floor. he enjoyed the comfort of his own home, spacious room and wide windows compared to outside stores.

his cat, nanako, purrs at his feet and he feels his heart swell. if there was one weakness he had in this world, it’d be her. he picks her up from the floor, presses her at his rib cage and nuzzles his nose in her fur.

“hi baby,” geto coos, and nanako lets out a sound. he continues to coddle her, fluffing her fur and rubbing at her ears, “it’s been pretty lively in here, hasn’t it? i knowww,” he coos, and as if nanako understands his words, she makes a pitiful sound that slightly shatters his heart.

geto decides to place her on his lap, her company serving plenty of motivation as he rolls back to his desk. he grabs the remote to his built-in speakers, turning the volume higher, before locking back in. exams are full of crap, and words are starting to jumble on his screen— he’s beginning to contemplate if this education shit is even worth the stress.

he’s an hour deep in jolting notes down on his ipad when he hears a knock at his front door. he scrunches his brows and glances at his agenda— he isn’t due for an appointment until another few hours. he sits it out, starting to believe he’d maybe imagined the sound. he knows it isn’t gojo since he’s celebrating an anniversary with his girl, and any other friend would’ve called to let him know they’re outside.

probably some jehovah witness shit, he thinks to himself, fingers hovering over his speaker remote to crank the volume back up. he turns back to his laptop screen, petting nanako mindlessly when his ipad flashes an instagram notification.

yourstruly.yn: open up

he jumps to his feet, chair rolling back. nanako flies to his desk, landing on all fours as she hisses at him for his suddenness. geto grabs her and kisses her ear, “sorry baby,” before sitting her on the floor. she walks off to her mini bean bag right at the foot of his desk, and he senses an attitude coming from her.

damn, he’d forgotten he squeezed you in last night in the midst of his sweet talking. that was truly a stupid move, he was already behind on studying, and because he likes to think with his head instead of his actual head, he’d fall even further behind.

he checks around the flat— picks up stray wrappers and fixes throw pillows, arranges his sheets. he was a clean man for the most part— he had been so distracted with his studies that there wasn’t much to dirty in the first place. his candles had already been lit so he knew the place smelled fine. he’s pretty positive his loft is clean enough to leave a good first impression.

he fixes loose hairs and straightens out his hoodie and sweats. thank fuck he’d showered not too long ago— he’s beginning to understand why his mother was always so insistent on being clean in case of random pop ups.

when he does finally open the door, there you stood. it was pretty chilly outside this time around, so he wasn’t surprised by the harsh wind flowing in and the clutch of your coat in your hold. your nose began reddening, and you sniffled, scowling from the cold.

you’re so cute, he sends you a smile, “hey.”

“hi,” you replied, sniffling again. “you ever planning on letting me in?”

“dunno,” he crosses his arms over his chest. he leans against the doorframe, ignoring the way he was starting to feel the frosty wind setting in his bones, “maybe if you ask nicely.”

you shoot him a deadpanned look, “move.”

“no.” geto smiles, “try again.”

“move, now.” a small pout is starting to form on your lips. he really liked testing your patience, since it always seemed to run low. you must’ve met your match— because geto always had time to fuck around.

“close, but not quite.”

“oh my goddd,” you groan, and that’s when he decides to let up. it really is colder than a bitch outside and he’d already kept you waiting while tidying up. he lets out a chuckle when you turn to the side, “i’m leaving— too damn cold for this.”

“alright, i’m playing,” geto widens the door. you stop your movements and glare at him. he aims an arm towards the inside of his loft, “don’t go, come in.”

you grumble something beneath your breath but comply, walking right past him. he follows behind you, shutting the door close and is immediately greeted back with warmth. you slip your shoes off and place them on the rack, before stepping in further into his apartment.

he slides his hands into his sweatpants’ pockets, catching up to you in the living room. your head is tilted upwards as you inspect the place though you remain in place. he stands beside you, bumping his shoulder into your arm, “so? up to your standards?”

you’re quiet for a while, letting your eyes roam around as the words build in your mind, “it’s typical,” you shrug but don’t elaborate. you’ve been staring at an art piece he’d done first year when he was fried out of his mind. you shift your gaze back to him, “where do i put my shit?”

“you can leave it in my bedroom, if that’s fine.” geto suggests and you nod wordlessly, to which he leads you to the second floor. he’s walking up the stairs and prays he doesn’t fall flat on his face— his socks can be a real bitch sometimes.

you both make it to his bedroom, with you trailing a little behind. he grabs a hanger from his mobile clothing rack, stretching an arm out to you, “i’ll hang your jacket here.”

you slide off the coat from your frame and hand it to him, to which he hangs on the rack. you circle around his bedroom with your tote on your shoulder, while he makes his way back to next to his desk. it’s pretty quiet for the most part, besides the music playing gently in the background.

your gaze lands on the cluttered items on his desk, noticing the half empty cup of coffee, notebooks and ipad on display, “did i catch you at a bad time?”

“honestly? yeah,” geto shrugs, before motioning at your tote bag. you slip it off and hand it to him, to which he sits at his nightstand, “but it’s my fault anyway, i squeezed you in a busy time. you know how exam season gets.”

“i can always reschedule,” you offer, checking your phone screen for the date, “it’s not that deep.”

“i don’t want you to leave,” geto slumps back into his seat and heaves out a sigh. he spins the chair around to catch you giving him a flat look. he leans back in his seat and spreads his thighs, smirking, “would you stay?”

“depends. are you going to be studying?” you quip, crossing your arms back to your chest.

geto ponders on what to say next. it’s not like he doesn’t want to tatt you up, but he really is caught in a bind. he also doesn’t want you to leave— not when he’s been wanting to see you since the last time he’d seen you. does he prioritize his wants or his needs?

he hums, “i’ll do whatever you want me to.”

you roll your eyes, scoffing as you make your way to his nightstand. for a second, he thinks you’re getting ready to leave and a weird feeling of disappointment settles in his gut. instead, you grab the bag and sit on the edge of his bed, pulling out your macbook and crossing your legs.

he smiles at that, “attagirl.”

“corny.” you mumble, chewing on your bottom lip as you begin typing away.

there’s a comfortable silence that fills the room. he’s back to browsing through his lecture notes, noting down valuable information and memorizing terminology. you don’t say anything either, but the sound of your nails typing at your keyboard blends well with his r&b playlist playing. sounds like you’re writing down an essay or report, depending on whatever your major is.

about half an hour into the silence, does he decide to break it. he looks over his shoulder to where you’re settled on his bed, “you good?” he checks up on you, and you let out a burnt out sigh. he knows exactly how you’re feeling.

“i guess,” you huff, twirling your necklace. your eyes are stuck on your screen, brows creasing into a scowl, “this shit is frying my brain though.”

“what are you writing?” he indulges, dropping his apple pen back onto his desk and spins in his seat to face you. maybe he’s also in due of a break— he’d rather be talking to you anyway.

“this crim report,” you answer, picking at your nail, “it’s not exactly hard but mad lengthy. i have to write a ten page report based on this article and how it contradicts societal norms.”

“ten pages?” geto whistles, rubbing at his chin. he’s settled deeper in his seat, naturally manspreading. you’re much better than him, he would’ve given up before even starting— reports were not his thing, “how far are you in?”

“i started this morning,” you hum, “so i’m four pages in.”

geto nods, “and when is it due?”

“tomorrow night.” you push your laptop off your lap. you close the screen shut and stretch out your legs, releasing a breathy moan as you relax your thighs. “i’ll do this shit later— my head’s starting to hurt.”

geto swears he’s never been so in sync in thought. he dismisses the idea of studying the second you had closed your macbook. probably a bad idea but at the moment, he couldn’t care any less, “want some entertainment?”

you cock a brow, “don’t say no stupid shit.”

“twenty one questions,” geto speaks nonetheless and finds himself beaming brightly when you scoff, “can’t a guy want to get to know you better?”

you ease yourself on his bed, slumping into his sheets as you exhale. you shift onto your side— a sinful curve at your side— tucking your knees and lean your head into your palm, “oh fuck off,” a breathless laugh and nanako makes her presence known, hopping right by you in the space between your body and the edge of the bed, “didn’t know you had a cat. she’s cute.”

“how’d you know she was a she?” geto wonders, surprised just slightly by how welcoming nanako was around you. she purred when you stroke at her fur, nuzzling further into your chest. nanako hated everyone— especially gojo, who unironically visited the most.

“instinct,” you shrugged but there’s a faint smile on your lips. not directed towards him, but his baby, “i also have a cat— he’s a fucking menace though.”

that’s one thing in common already, “like mother like son,” geto grins lazily when you flip him off mindlessly, and when you raise nanako in both your hands, he’s ready to warn you she isn’t a big fan of sudden movements— but when she mewls, the same sound she makes when geto brings home a new toy, the words die down in his throat.

he observes you both silently. you cradle nana as if she were a newborn infant, adoring and loving yet simultaneously careful and steadily. you’re cooing, calling her a sweet girl and rubbing at her ear, and nanako accepts you rather easily— too easily.

“woah.” was this those non-sexual turn ons people spoke about? for somebody so mean, you were oddly gentle with pets. he liked that— really liked that, so much that he pulls his phone out and snaps a photo of you two. but of course, because the universe loves to see him fumble, the flash goes off.

your head snaps to the side and he freezes. you narrow your eyes at him, slowly lowering nanako, “did you just—”

“so!” geto cuts you off, chucking his phone back onto his desk. it makes a loud cluttering sound, damn near knocks his drink all over, but ignores it, “my turn. what’s your cat’s name?”

“milo. and don’t cut me off—”

“milo the menace,” he cuts you off regardless, not wanting to have to decipher just what exactly possessed him to do that. he’s never done so, and he wasn’t about to explain why he’d done it just now. deflecting king! “i need to see the little guy. got any pics?”

you huff, extending a hand behind you to find your phone. when you clutch onto the device, you swing your legs off the bedside, always careful with nanako clinging to your lap. you lay her down on the floor, much to her dismay, before making your way towards him.

his eyes are stuck on your body before his mind can tell him to stop. not like it mattered much, your own eyes glued to your phone screen as you searched for the pictures he’d asked. you’ve got a matching tracksuit on— though the hoodie is cropped, thus exposing your navel piercing. he’d always had a thing for those, the pretty good jewel dangling below the button.

it didn’t help that your thong straps sat atop your waist.

he spreads his legs further open, and you stop right in between. for a moment, you’re stuck on your phone, and geto really wants to get those thighs straddling him. you look delectable— he’d pin your knees to your damn ears, sprawled on your back, and eat you out until you pleaded him to stop.

your hair was pulled back into a bun, and from this angle, he spotted scripture at the column of your neck. there was wording inked in arabic, and he made a mental note to ask you what it meant later.

geto leans back into his seat when you fold forwards, and he gets a good whiff of your vanilla scented perfume, tingling his senses in the best way, “found it?”

you nod your head, swiping through your gallery, “yeah, my bad,” you have a folder named ‘mimi’ and as expected, was filled off candid photos of your cat. he pays attention as you slide your finger on your screen, selfies of you both in the morning passing by.

“cute,” he isn’t talking about the cat, and his gaze flicks from the screen to your face. there’s still a considerate amount of space between you both, but he can see your eye colour much clearer this close up. you blink your lashes at him and he smirks, “anything else you wanna show me?”

you sniff, “don’t be gross.”

“i meant of milo,” geto definitely didn’t mean of milo. you cock a brow skeptically, and he mirrors the look, though the smile on his face grows, “what a cute lil thing,” his voice lowers and his words trail off. there’s a beat of a pause for a while, and his gaze falls on the plumpness of your lips, “you gonna let me pet your kitty?”

another beat of silence. you’re staring at his lips, and he wonders what you’re thinking. he can tell you’ve picked up on what he’s laying down (hopefully you in the next few minutes) but he can’t tell what your next move will be.

“depends. . .” a soft whisper, and he feels your breath fanning over his cupid’s bow. you flick your eyes back at him, and he finally understands the whole siren eyes shit. through lidded eyes, your stare is intense— simultaneously pulling him in closer while pushing him back. you’re toying with him, and the hand he slides up from your thigh to your ass is enough fuel. “you any good?”

he brings a second hand to the other ass cheek, and urges you onto his lap. you comply, looping your arms at the back of his neck. he feels your nails grazing at his scalp and he holds back a lethal shudder. your weight feels amazing against him— his hard on poking and making its presence well aware.

“i’d like to think i am,” he knows he is, but playing humble always goes a long way. he lets his hands run over the cup of your ass, trails back up to your hips, and slides a finger beneath the thong strap. when he snaps the material at your skin, your back arches and you press your chest against his own.

“well,” you exhale when he noses into the crook of your neck, right above your tattoo. he’s littering wet kisses at your hot skin, your taste ever so sweet against his tongue. god, you must taste divine. at your jugular, he’s able to imprint your perfume into his mind. “only one way to find out.”

geto hums at that, relishing in the way you moan at a particular suck, and focus on nibbling at that spot once more. you’re tilting your head for easier access, hips grinding against his own for better friction. your hands are soft and cautious— they trail from his nape down to his chest, and further down to his waistband.

he’s on go, ready for whatever timing you’re on. though, it doesn’t take a genius to figure out by the way your fingertip traces right above his pelvis, that you’re both on the same page. he drags his lips from the column of your neck up to your jaw, and stops right above your parted lips.

he has another cocky remark on the tip of his tongue, in typical suguru fashion, but you beat him to the chase, glossy lips pressing against his. the kiss is short and definitely leaves him wanting more when you pull back as soon as you’d leaned in— but you’re a mere centimetre away.

you whisper, not before another kiss, “don’t disappoint me, suguru.”

and he’s never ran into bed so fast.

☆ ☆ ☆

the door slams shut.

he’s left with a painfully hard reminder in his sweats that he fucked up bad. he thinks he dissociated a little between the labia flapping to the coat zipping. it’s only when he notices that instead of hearing lip smacking sounds, he hears bryson tiller’s lame ass (no shade, his ego is simply wounded), that you really left.

fuck.

geto rushes back to his bedroom, the walk of shame up the steps enough to make him want to jump off— as he takes out his phone, immediately goes through his contact list and presses on the name. it rings twice before the call gets picked up.

“yooo!”

“you still busy?” geto asks, voice hoarse as he flops down on the edge of the bed— his now empty bed. damn.

“nah, just dropped off wifey,” gojo replies. he hears music playing faintly in the back, as well as the sounds of honking. he must still be in the car, “why, what’s up?”

“i fucked up.” geto sighs, running a hand over his face.

“oh?” he isn’t surprised to find out gojo’s surprised. he’s still surprised by how the events turned out and it’s barely been ten minutes, let alone five. “say no more, i’m on my way.”

geto hangs up. he throws the phone away, before falling flat onto his bed. he picks up your scent on his sheets, your warmth slowly disappearing— another painful reminder he messed up. where he’s expecting a wet patch of anything on his duvets, he finds nothing. zip. nada.

his eyes fall shut, “shit.”

☆ ☆ ☆

“and that’s pretty much the gist of it all.”

he exhales a cloud of smoke. more silence. geto’s starting to get sick of all this silence. it was radio silence with you and now even more radio silence from gojo. his hand never stops to rub at nanako, who’s been serving as a cuddling partner in this grand moment of crisis. the only person to ever have his back.

so, geto knew that confiding in his best friend this secret of his would be risky for a multitude of reasons. for starters, geto never fucks up. this would be ultimate blackmail content for him, and geto honestly doesn’t blame him. for two, he was just giving gojo shit about never having eaten pussy. that’s just downright humiliating. and for three, he has a girlfriend who he doesn’t keep anything from. on top of that— his girlfriend is friends with the main culprit here.

overall a bad idea. he does it nonetheless, because satoru is his best friend despite it all. he isn’t too shocked when the silence is filled with bellyaching laughter, though.

“wait— i’m cryinggg,” more laughter. gojo’s now kicked his feet off the couch and is doubling forward. his shades bounce off his head and hit the leg of the coffee table. he doesn’t pause his laughing fit one bit, not even when geto throws a throw pillow his way.

it bounces off his big head and geto scoffs, bringing the joint back to his lips, “oh fuck off.”

“my fault man,” gojo apologizes though he doesn’t sound apologetic. he’s leaning forward to grab his shades back, and he’s back to swiping stray tears. “that was a good laugh— shit.”

geto hums at that, extending the blunt towards him,“glad to hear my misery has brought you entertainment.”

“see, you get it!” gojo jokes, welcoming the joint. seems like he got cocky, however, his laughing mood not quite over as he inhales. he quickly chokes on the smoke, which fades back into cackling, “oh shit—”

geto sneers, annoyance quickly rising, “quit fucking around or pass it back.” he was being pissy, yes, but his pride had been curb stomped. and it hadn’t even been an hour ago!

“nah, nah, i’m good,” gojo waves him off, despite his free hand tapping at his chest. he collects himself soon enough, and takes another hit. this time it’s successful. geto lowkey hoped it would get caught in his throat again.

“sooo,” gojo drags out, melting into the couch, “what now.”

“what now?” geto parrots.

“what’s the next move?” gojo elaborates, fingertip tapping at the blunt, and ashes fall into the tray. the end of the stick crumbles in the same way geto’s ego had earlier. “you’re gonna keep letting her think you suck at giving head?”

geto throws his head back and sighs tiredly, “what else is there to do?” he hears the sound of sizzling in the background, “i fumbled bad, bro. you don’t think she already posted about me in her girls’ private story?” more sizzling and exhaling, “i’m the storytime of the day!”

he feels gojo nudge his thigh with his foot. he looks back and the joint is presented to him. he gladly accepts it.

“what even happened?” gojo wonders. and oh boy, if that isn’t the question of the day. geto is still trying to find the answer to that. had it been out of nervousness? had he gotten too cocky? had it been her?

“i honestly wish i could answer that,” geto slips the roach into his mouth. “i didn’t feel nervous until after i realized she wasn’t fazed,” he drags out a hit and ghost inhales, “maybe it was a sign from above— to shut the fuck up sometimes.”

“maybe,” gojo snorts, throwing his legs over geto’s lap. nanako hisses at the intrusion, but the white haired man ignores her, “don’t let yourself go out sad like this. hit her back up— whatever happened to loving challenges?”

“what kind of fucked up ass challenge is this?” geto mumbles, mainly to himself.

“if i was in your shoes— which i’d never be,” because he’s gojo, he feels the need to add, “i’d put my pride aside and talk to her. like no homo shit, but you’re a great eater— yeah, no, i’m taking that back instantly.”

geto looks as horrified as he feels, “quickly, even.”

of course, gojo laughs but proceeds, “the point is, you know you’re good at it. everybody fucks up once in a while— don’t let it define you though. think of it as a minor setback for a major comeback— if you care enough, you’ll put your pride aside and do something about it. if you’re this down about it, then it must mean something to you.”

geto can’t tell anymore whether gojo’s talking about the failed pussy eating attempt or you. regardless, he knows there’s truth to his words. has to be the weed talking.

“and who made you the pussy connoisseur?” geto snorts, pressing the bud of his joint in the tray. it sizzles weakly as he kills it, starting to feel that high course through his veins.

gojo sighs dreamily, “why my lovely lady, of course.”

“looks like she taught you well,” geto relaxes himself into the tight space of the couch, settling nanako on his chest. it’s now his turn to nudge gojo with his foot, his sock-cladded toe digging at his jaw. “woulda never expected this from a rookie just a few months ago.”

“well duh,” gojo swipes his foot away, “i aced that course. got my phD in cunningulusophy and all. even won valedictorian.”

geto laughs, resting his lids. he was starting to feel sleepy, indica will do that to you, “enroll me in whatever class you took— i may need to slut myself out for extra credit. my prof’s a tough nut to bust.”

“intro to munch 101,” gojo nods his head, shutting his eyes close as well. there’s a comfortable silence that fills the air for a while. and despite the fact that his sight manipulated, he could hear the smirk dripping off his tone, “if you ever need a letter of recommendation, i got you— alumni’s honour.”

“oh fuck off,” a mixed harmony of laughter and vibrating chests.

☆ ☆ ☆

fun fact: suguru geto loves showers.

the aroma of cleanliness enhanced by thick fog. the scorching water droplets trickling down his skin, the vulnerability of his nakedness inside these four walls. he strangely feels most at ease, most raw in this moment of solitude.

he’s able to gather himself too. there isn’t much to accomplish in a shower once you’ve gotten rid of the day’s dirt. so, he likes to take the opportunity to think. to think deep and hard.

his mind’s all scrambled up. it’s been about three days since you were last in his apartment, two days since he’d thought about it, and a day since he last seen you (granted it’d been on your story, virtually, but still).

this has been the biggest feat he’s faced in a while. if he recaps it, this is what’s he gotten: he invited you over. you came the next day. he didn’t cater to you the sole reason you came. you didn’t mind. you both studied for a bit. he asked about your cat. you ended up on his lap. he ended up in bed with you. you ended up leaving with a chunk of his dignity.

that didn’t explain shit, but it did remind him of his failure. it reminded him that he’d finally met his match. it reminded him he needs to start backing his shit up. it reminded him of how good you smelled and tasted down there. it reminded him of how pretty you looked.

his cock twitches and he glances down. it also reminds him he never ended up cumming, too engrossed in his anxiety to jerk one out.

he feels as though the glass doors of his shower protect him from reality. he’s hard, though mortified, but still hard. he’d spent a long time (two days) suppressing the memory away, but there was no way to mistaken your taste on his tongue. how sweet you smelled. how soft you felt—

geto fists at his dick before he can help it. his free hand plants at the wall before him, and he works his wrist. he twists at his shaft slowly and closes his eyes— behind his lids are photographic memories of you on his lap. memories of you on his bed. memories of the scent of your panties. memories of your tits in his mouth.

sure, you’d made more sounds off the foreplay for the foreplay— but that didn’t take away how turned on he’d been. how his dick twitched in his boxers. how he’d humped the mattress. how he’d moan in your cunt.

“y/n,” geto moans your name, sinful yet hushed, his hand working faster. his thumb grazes his over slit and his gut drowns in heat. he wants a redo. he deserves a redo— you deserved a redo. “fuckkkk,”

next time, he’ll get it right. and if he doesn’t, then he’ll want to try again and again and again— until it ends with your cunt clenching around his tongue and his face sprayed vigorously in your essence. until your thighs tremble around his face, your hand clawing at his hair and your back arched off his bed. until his name bounces off his walls and echoes so loudly his neighbours complain.

he wants a redo.

he jerks back as he paints the tiles white. the joints in his hand ache, the water from the shower head getting colder. geto pants heavily, chest heaving as his load is released from him. his cum drips from the wall and into the drain at his feet— but his dick is far from well spent. if he spends another hour in the shower, it’s nobody’s business but his own.

suguru geto loves showers.

☆ ☆ ☆

“oh. you actually showed.”

“redo,” geto pants, having sprinted from his apartment. he’d spent the next three days after his shower incident wallowing some more— at some point, it just annoyed him. though slightly underwhelming, he was on his phone in bed a few minutes ago, going through his camera roll when he’d seen that picture he took of you and nanako. his feet guided him to his car before he could help it. choso helped him out with the address.

“redo?” you parrot his words, leaning against your doorframe. you crossed your arms over your chest, and it’s only then he noticed your appearance— flimsy camisole and pink lace panties. fuck, he wants a redo now.

“i want a redo.” geto repeats, but is quickly hit with a gust of wind. he hadn’t brought a jacket with him in the midst of his impulse, and goosebumps were beginning to form at his skin. he shoots his shot, “you ever planning on letting me in?” talk about deja vu.

“dunno,” you play along, eyes narrowing. “maybe if you ask nicely.”

swallow your pride, he hears gojo somewhere in the back of his mind. he shakes that thought off quickly. this desperation had to be bigger than a pride issue— he was ready to get on his knees and beg her to let him in. pride? that had been drained to the sewers the second he busted all over his shower days ago.

“lemme in and i’ll make it up to you,” geto tries instead, taking a step closer, “please?”

that seemed to be the correct answer as you push open the door to your apartment further. you turn your back and geto lets himself drink up your backside— he hadn’t seen it last time but you had dimples sitting right above your perky ass. he watches your hips sway left and right, and even tilt your head back, a smirk etched on your face, “you comin’?”

you will be, “cute.” his lips twitch into a small smile, and closes the door behind him.

☆ ☆ ☆

fool him once? shame on him.

geto doesn’t allow himself to make the same mistakes twice. if one fuck up is enough to tear him down for a week straight then why the hell would he do it again?

you’re sprawled on your back, legs spread with enough space to fit his body in between. his hands plant on either side of your face, his bulge pushed up against your core. he feels your warmth through these layers of clothes, and he rolls his hips greedily, feeling himself already grow addicted. your chin is raised high, lids blown open as you stare at him all doe-eyed.

his brows pinch in the centre of his forehead. that faux look of innocence you’re offering is doing wonders to his dick. your tits sit beautifully beneath your top, arms back on him as you pull him in closer, and he lets himself fall prey to you. for a moment, the tip of his nose bumps into yours, lips ghosting over the other, hips colliding to meet yours.

“mhm, that’s it.” you let out a sigh, throwing your head back into your pillows. there’s an opening to your neck calling his name, and geto wastes no time to latch his lips there. he slips a hand beneath your tank top, fingernails grazing over your skin to creep up to your mounds. he flicks a thumb over the bud and you sigh blissfully again— he then cups the flesh.

he loves the way you squirm when he kisses down your body, “i got you, pretty,” stripped from your cami, his lips leave open mouthed marks all over your skin. from the column of your neck, to your breasts, down your torso and past your navel, “let me take care of you.” the lower he gets, the more intense your rawness reeks— and it’s a damned good smell.

he lands right above your clothed pelvis, and he inhales sharply. he won’t make the same mistake this time, he can feel it. there’s something lingering in the air, something indescribable— but he’s confident he won’t. because when he skips your cunt in favour to pamper your inner thighs, dragging his wet tongue all over erogenous zones, he spots dampening right where your clit would be.

bingo.

your hand cradles his hair, and the other props your body up by the elbow. he glances up at you, cock throbbing against your mattress. your beauty still renders him speechless— runs his throat dry and makes his tongue feel heavy. he doesn’t want to decipher what this means either, and decides to conclude he’s simply thirsty for you.

“suguru,” you call at him. he blinks and the hand in his hair snakes down his neck, and pushes him deeper. his nose nudges at your throbbing clit, and his tongue peeks out of his mouth to lick at the damp material before he can help it. two fingers hook at your panties and push them to the side, revealing glistening folds. your slick drips between your crack and stains your sheets. he thinks he hears his stomach growl a little.

another swipe of his tongue, this time in contact with the raw you, and a breathless moan rips from you, “don’t disappoint me this time.”

and he feasts.

☆ ☆ ☆

gojo’s woken up to a notification from his phone.

it’s still pretty late— or maybe early, and his pretty girlfriend is miles away in lalaland. she snores softly, cuddling into his side, and gojo’s ready to cuss out whoever dares potentially meddle with his girl’s sleep. he’s starting to get grumpy.

when his phone undergoes face recognition, he lowers the brightness immediately. he swipes through his notification center and notices an attachment sent by geto.

now that peeks his interest. he presses on the message.

suguboo: [1 attachment]

suguboo: passed intro2munch101 with an A+ 🫡

gojo can’t help the laugh that leaves him, though is quickly quieted down when he feels stirring at his side.

“well i’ll be damned.”

yes, gojo is obsessed with his girlfriend. also 10k words on geto???

[remxedmoon]

your friends don’t know what to do.

so!! i redrew every single enemy in the game. in the span of like 9 days (excluding the king i made him right after the last update). that’s abbbout 79* drawings total, with only 3 custom ones for once!! i’m so normal. as always, these are free to use with credit!! go nuts!! spritesheets are included <3

got some notes under the cut, along with As Many Enemies As I Could Fit without making this post obnoxiously long. and i failed. i had to swap between the app and browser several times and i still couldn’t fit every drawing. open this post at your own risk (silly).

okay so first of all. what’s with the asterisk. well. I Drew A Lot More Than 79 Assets Actually. they’re getting posted separately, because this post is ABSURDLY long. you can find most of them in the miscellaneous folder, but for a bit of clarity, i added the teleport map and a bunch of ui elements that reference sprites from the icon sheet. and also the game over and loop back animations but i haven’t finished the spritesheets for those because they’re a pain in the ass so they’re not in the drive yet

if you missed my complaining a few days ago, a few enemies might look a bit crunchy in the actual game? specifically, calamité and désespoir were drawn at the wrong size, because their images in the files do not match the spritesheets! i avoided the issue with most of the other enemies, those two just blindsided me. sorry about that!

^sadnesses having inconsistent designs was actually a running theme with these. détresse rock has an unused design in the files (which i managed to catch before having to redo it thankfully), anxiété has extra spikes that don’t appear on the spritesheet (sorry i was too lazy to fix that one), even the version of the friend rescue in the files doesn’t match any of the frames in the spritesheet. hfjfhfj. sorry about the quality issues.

tangentially related to that, massive thank you to @riggedbones for grabbing the individual frames for the animations for me!! they made my life so much easier. vs friends would’ve been so annoying…

speaking of the animations! hi can you tell i’m not an animator. these were my first time doing Anything animation related since, like, middle school. super sorry for the Jank in some of these! the friend rescue looked way better when i drew it 💔💔.

bourdon’s hands also might act a bit odd, my apologies. the sizing ingame is SUPER inconsistent (why is one of the hands SMALLER than the other????). once i’m able to actually test the mod, i’ll try to fix it wauaua.

the 3 custom sprites are for the triplets! i ended up making two versions for each, one that follows the ingame art, and one with my personal designs for them. i like my own designs for them, but they’re a lot easier to tell apart? so if you want to use the ones that fit the gimmick better, they’re also in the drive 👍

this update. was originally going to have way more custom art. i’ve actually got an act 6 siffrin enemy asset in my art program! but school started and i decided it’d be better to just get the normal stuff done. so the mod can actually come out in a reasonable timeframe. promise that’ll all come out Later! sorry about the wait 😓😓😓

also adding this because i almost forgot: no i don’t know if these are compatible with sasasaap. i don’t have the game still and it’s not my main priority atm, apologies!

okay! that was a lot! and there’s a ton of art down here! thank you for reading all this, i’ll be back with the game over animations and teleport map pretty soon! like. within the weekend. enjoy!!!

[vexwerewolf]

Harrison Armory

I think a lot of people fundamentally misunderstand Harrison Armory, Lancer fans on Tumblr especially.

Harrison Armory is not Nazi Germany. Harrison Armory doesn't actually have an exact parallel on modern-day Earth, and it would be difficult to draw them without potentially insensitive implications.

I think the closest parallel I can draw is late-stage Obama-era America, with a lot of Nordic-style public investment and China's Social Credit system.

People depicting the Armory as a cold, grind-obsessed hypercapitalist nightmare are thinking of IPS-N. The Armory looks after its citizens, at least in as much as happy workers are productive workers. Even as a colonial subject, you can expect a decent standard of living simply because they don't answer solely to shareholders - for better or for worse, the Armory has a vision, an insistence upon the dignity of Humanity which wouldn't allow them to let you live in squalor. This is a cold, haughty kind of beneficence - they don't care about you per se, it's just that allowing you to suffer would reflect poorly on them.

You will get healthcare. You will get free, frequent public transit that you might not even need to use, since every city is walkable. You will get clean water, healthy food and safe streets. You will get frequent vacations and as many sick days as you need. No matter your ethnicity, birth gender, gender identity, religion, sexuality, physical or mental ability, the Armory has a place for you. The Armory does not discriminate.

The Armory is expansionist, for sure, but it chooses its new acquisitions carefully - Diasporan worlds under the thumb of ruthless dictators, repressive theocracies, avaricious hypercapitalist oligarchs. If you're a colonial subject, the Armory have likely liberated you from tyrants.

What do you give in return? Complete cultural obedience.

You will not cause a disturbance. You will not rock the boat. You will not question the benevolent system that gave you this abundance. The Armory gives you all the choices that really matter to someone like you: eat what you want, shop where you want, buy what you want - after all, every shop, every café, every restaurant is an Armory subsidiary, so whatever cuisine you favour, whatever brand of dataslate you prefer, the Armory is making back most of the salary they pay you. The Armory puts a roof over your head. The Armory protects you from the wolves at the door. The Armory even lets you vote on your local representatives (they've all got spotless Socials, so you know that no matter who you choose, they're loyal, attentive citizens). Are you not happy? Are you not grateful?

Show us. Show us you're grateful. Show up to the Foundation Day parade. Salute the statues of Harrisons I (PRAISE THE DIRECTOR GENERAL, LONG MAY HE SERVE), II (PRAISE THE DIRECTOR GENERAL, LONG MAY HE SERVE) and III (PRAISE THE DIRECTOR GENERAL, LONG MAY HE SERVE). Recite the Pledge. Volunteer for the local Guard Corps - or better yet, the Colonial Legion. Don't you care about your community? Aren't you proud of your nation? Don't you want to give back? Aren't you a good citizen?

What's that? Dissent? You little shit! You ungrateful little worm! After all we've done for you, after all this Great Nation has sacrificed for you, you dare ask for more? Harrison I (PRAISE THE DIRECTOR GENERAL, LONG MAY HE SERVE) sacrificed himself on Union's altar for us - for YOU! Harrison II (PRAISE THE DIRECTOR GENERAL, LONG MAY HE SERVE) died refusing to bend the knee, refusing to sacrifice our freedom - YOUR LIBERTY! Harrison III (PRAISE THE DIRECTOR GENERAL, LONG MAY HE SERVE) tours the Purview to see and hear your fellow countrymen and address their concerns, and you dare question his right to rule? The Steward Council is comprised of only his most trusted advisors - do you doubt their commitment to our values?

We live in the best and brightest era of human civilization, the problems of the past all behind us, and all you can think about is ways to drag us all down. You ungrateful, shiftless, lazy little bastard. You want me to call the local Social board? See how they feel about your profile? If you don't feel like the Armory is doing enough for you? Well, let's see how you like it when the Armory does nothing for you. You clearly don't have the spirit or the courage to be truly free.

Ugh, dissenters, am I right? Fuck, sorry about that, folks. Yeah, that was... intense! Anyway, let's not let that whole sordid ordeal ruin this party. Let's all just chill, take an edible, and celebrate what we came here to celebrate - the Colonial Legion incorporated its first all-trans Genghis brigade! What a win for progressivism, right? You'd never see that in the Trade Baronies! Praise the Director General! Long may he serve!

[simonsrileyhusband]

AAHRRG I NEED TO HEAR YOUR SIMON SHARING READER WITH PRICE IDEAS and maybe a little ghostprice in there too just maybe

🙏🙏

nsfw:

simon is jealous... no, possesive, you are his and only his. but before he met you he meet price and his captain means a lot to him.

so when he sees the way price eyes you up at the tiny reunion the 141 had at his house, he starts thinking. thinking why wasnt he angry, why didnt he punch him in the face like he has done before with random guys on the street?

"yer joking, right?" price was sitting alone with simon on the tiny office of the house, a quick drop off something simon forgot at base turned into a small talk session and drinking.

"i never joke like that." his voice is harsh, dry and determinated. simon looked at his captain death in the eyes, waiting for an answer.

"i mean..." the older man speaks, drinking a bit of the whiskey, nervous. "if he is up to."

simon hums and stands up, leaving the glass on the tiny table and walks off the room.

"wait-..." he tries to complain but its too late, price hears how a door opens from afar and how the two of you talk, far enough to not be able to actually pick up any words.

after a good 10 minutes simon walks in, you walk behind him shyly, grabbing his hand you hide behind his strong frame.

"you already know eachother, no needs for introductions." he pulls you into his lap, sitting besides price. "if you wanna stop just say, m'kay?" you nod softly, wiggling closer to simon, watching price carefully. he is hot, big biceps and a bit of tummy, just like your simon, big thighs and husky voice...

"words baby." he whispers, and you nod again, lost in the way price stares at you while he finishes his drink. "i-... yes." you finally speak and your boyfriend hums.

"go on. sit on his lap baby." you obey, crawling into his lap, facing him. "hi, love." he mumbles, placing his hands barely above your knees. you whisper a little hi back. "can i... can i kiss him?" you ask shyly, while looking at simon, your cheeks blushed. "you can do anything, lovie, as long as you are comfortable." you nod and turn back to price, whose hands were a bit higher on your thighs now.

you kiss him, not like you would kiss your boyfriend, you hold back a bit, tasting the alcohol on him. but he is older, he has experience, he knows how to make someone feel good, you feel his hands rub your legs and waist, squeezing just enough to make you want more, and when you feel his bulge grow you cant help but grind on it, moaning softly into his lips.

"enough, on your knees, now." you quickly pull back, and look at simon flustered, yet, you do as he says quickly, kneeling in front of the two men. "jesus, ya got him trained well."

"he know he gets a reward if he's good."

you look up at them with desire, a burning sensation growing inside of you, sinful images filling your mind of all the things they can do to you. both of them undo their belts and unzip their pants. you perk up and pull down simons boxers. instinctively grabbing his dick. "not so fast, be a good boy and do the same with john."

a little whine scapes your mouth, and you do as you are told, pulling down his boxers too, both of your hands start to move up and down their hardening cocks, you look at them, how theu grunt and pant, how they stare down at you like hungry lions waiting to eat their prey.

"suck." a simple word, a command that came out as a grunt. you lean in and kiss his tip lovingly, you lick and kiss all over his lenght, taking your time to take all of it inside. you continue to jerk price off, who was lost in the way you moved your head up and down, how your eyes water and how good simons voice sounds when he is whispering naaty praises to you.

your mind is blury, you dont know how lomg you have been sucking their dicks, being yanked by the hair and cheeks to be shoved into their aching dicks. but when they get tired of that and need more than just your mouth your mind is already gone.

"its okay baby, relax f'me" you hear your boyfriends husky voice sooth you, face down and ass up on the couch they were once sitting at. your hole dripping and your breath heavy. simon pats princes arm, "ye' can go first, but no cumming inside of him, that’s only f'me."

price says something that you dont quite graso because a heavy hand falls harshly into your ass, making you whine. "do you want me to fuck you, mhm? tell me honey, tell me how badly y'want your boyfriends friend to fuck you."

[thewertsearch]

If you can believe it, I was actually pretty confident that every important character in Homestuck had been revealed. I'd honestly assumed we were done with mysterious figures - but I guess the joke's on me.

So - we have a new conundrum on our hands. Just who is this new, green-blooded troll, and what's their agenda?

Well, despite the fact that I called this an 'Alternian' text console, I'm pretty sure they're not on Alternia. Every troll in that universe should have been killed by the Vast Glub - and, more broadly, the troll universe was violently bookended by Spades Slick during the events of Cascade. I don't expect us to ever hear from Alternia's universe again.

Therefore, I think our 'doctor' troll is dialing in from a completely different universe - or, potentially, a Sgrub session of their own. Their symbol implies some link to Scratch, or at least to the 'Doc' in his name - which, I should remind myself, was never actually explained.

I don't think there's much more I can say about them, just yet. Let's see what develops.

There she is! :D

Before we talk about anything else, let's take a moment to groan at the spoon symbol on reboot-Sburb's poster. The Skaianet of this universe is Betty Crocker, and – wild as it is to say – there's a very good chance that she's an agent of Lord English.

Sburb is almost certainly compromised.

Hiya, Jane! It's nice t-

God help us all.

Let me amend my previous statement.

Sburb is compromised, and so is Jane. It looks like she's in the custody of the Batterwitch - or, at least, the custody of someone who's loyal to the woman. I hope it's the latter, because her pre-Scratch counterpart was treated horrifically by Crocker during her own childhood.

Either way, Jane has been raised by a probable servant of English. Everything is fucked already.

You cannot enter her name!!! It was already engraved in her HONORARY PLACRONYM on her 13th birthday, which was about two and a half years ago [...].

So the Players are older, this time around.

Vriska was convinced that Sburb only chooses heroes on the cusp of puberty, but that assumption went out the window when we learned about Fedorafreak. Sburb chooses whoever it wants.

Attempting to engrave it with another name after completing this sacred rite of passage is practically unheard of [...].

This is clearly another riff on the naming jokes from back in Act 1, but... well, a world where your assigned name is sacred and inviolable is a pretty scary thought to me, personally.

[empathicliar]

⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀what you deserve ¸.•* eren yeager.

⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀

𝟔𝐤. 𝐥𝐨𝐰𝐞𝐫𝐜𝐚𝐬𝐞 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐝 , 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐦𝐞 𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐚𝐡 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐜𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐬𝐭 𝐜𝐨𝐝𝐞𝐝.

༺❀༻ || 𝐬𝟒!eren , 𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐫!eren , 𝐩𝐮𝐬𝐬𝐲-𝐝𝐫𝐮𝐧𝐤!eren , college ua , for my caramel babies , eager!eren , she / her pronouns , overstimulation , sweet talker , lots of kisses , multiple orgasm's , strangers to lova's , plot based , no protection , creampie >~< , dirty talk , use of 'baby'.

⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀

" when you put a lil' umph in it, that's when i lose control. "

⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀

there's only so much you can handle in a day's worth before overstimulation kicks in. rocking in a chair for four hours while getting a new row of ginger bundles sewed in by your auntie is already enough. gossiping about how your uncle is a piece of work can get added to that list too.

the white juicy couture track suit you have on is hugging your curves tighter than normal. you have ymir's 'friend' historia to thank for that. you'd only spoken to her once about how loose your tracksuits were and how badly you wanted them tighter and she got to work, completely redoing the threading to boost your ego a little to much.

eager with your hair to be done, you'd already marked a couple of other errands off the list. your fingers nails are coded with medium length cut-out shaped nails. a white base with some carnation pink painted bows. not wanting it to be to basic, you got some pink and white zebra stripes on your middle and pinky fingers.

your white painted toe-nails are covered by the ugg's you had to throw on due to the weather. you were always saying you hated summer until it wasn't around anymore and the cold had you shivering in the warmest of places.

its something about looking, feeling and smelling good that has you obsessed with yourself all over again. the vanilla scent is leaking off every surface of your body, the oil drops in your purse coming in clutch every time you wanted a refresher.

it's about four pm when your hair appointment is done. its something simple you could always deal with. 18 , 22 , 24 inch hair reaching your plush ass, your back already itching from the prickling nest.

" thank you s'much auntie! " you're exclaiming in her ear, already squeezing her to death with a hug.

you're not even close to being done. this winter break is going to be different. you naively figured you could get everything you wanted done while in college, yet when you finally touched the grounds it's like your shoulders slumped further down into a unforgivable pattern.

you stopped taking care of yourself mentally. you never stopped being a pretty bitch, nothing stops that. you got all the main things done. your hair was always styled, you don't play that. you're always soft and buttery smooth. the pet peeve for any hair on your body making you cringe.

you were always smelling good, it just became apparent you weren't going out of your way to take enough time for everything. by the time five rolls around, your sitting on your phone outside of your homegirl's house, waiting for her to get home.

mirrors by jhene aiko is playing softly in the back, your tinted windows are up and the bag of chick-fil-a nuggies are half eaten to your right. being your passy princess until further notice.

it doesn't take long for nicki to get to her place. she has big shopping bags in her hands, big balling on one of these cold ass afternoons. " you have a key to my house, you could've went in. " nicki reminds you, it slipped your mind completely. you glance at the hello kitty charm that hung in-front of your key fob, your dorm room key and her house key.

the long, black table you'd laid on more time's than your own bed has a ring light above it. a strollie with different lash things you'd never taken a hobby to is on the right side of it and the actually bundle set you asked for sits beside a bottle of water. eating the rest of your nuggets while nicki took a few bites of her salad, you both talked for God knows how long.

it's been a while since you've been in this cozy place. the apartment is on the first floor and in a gated community. you were so proud of nicki, she kept her word on making it big in life.

" you still going to ymir's tonight? " she asking while scratching the top layer of your lashes. wrong decision. it's like talking through an intense orgasm. your grabbing her hand to stop her to reply. she's only laughing at you the whole time.

" y-yeah girl i am. " your muttering out, your own laugh pouncing off the walls. nicki is a pro when it comes to getting you up and out of her chair satisfied. she snaps a video of the lashes and your making a fake brave face the whole time trying not to chuckle from the silence.

your in your car again by seven o'clock. playing with your hair in your review mirror, tucking the strands behind your ear and letting the multiple fans in your car fully dry your lashes. the song is back to playing at it's last pause while you move your lid's up in a uncomfortable position and let the air hit the base of your water lines.

you've driven to ymir's place so many times from nicki's house, you've gotten familiar with every back road, speed bump and pothole. the potholes brings back a awful memory of damage you wanted no part of remembering.

the weekend commute of straight peace was in motion. you got to ymir's house later than usually and took a joyful stride to your favorite love seat. the comfort makes you stifle a moan. you've done to much today to not get a break.

a song from ymir's recycled playlist is playing, it might be from sza's new album but you aren't to entirely sure. the only thing on your mind is food and weed. in the middle of the table there's snacks. cheddar popcorn, cherry bite twizzlers, some sour gummies and gushers. you opted on the popcorn and two packs of gushers.

on the back, light tan wall is a flat screen tv that's curved more towards you than it is connie and you finally correct your suspicions when you notice the name of the song and artist. i knew it, your thinking out with bunched up arms.

its seems like its been to long since you've been here and genuinely had time to stay.

since college had started in february, you branched out quickly when it came to friend groups. it wasn't a challenge when said friends had been around since high school. ymir, the brown haired girl with freckles and the nicest jaw line known to man offered you weed for exchanged of a pencil in junior year and connie, a surly boy with short, almost balding grey hair and a sleeve tattoo his mother didn't approve of just so happened to be next to you pouting from your win.

only a month into knowing them both, you were already coming to ymir's house and smoking like no tomorrow. connie tagging along some of the days, but he was mostly with his own group at the time. after high school, you figured this was going to be the time you all parted, saying ' i'll see you tomorrow bitch!' and never actually seeing them.

you were more than wrong when you realized you all had been planning to go the same paths.

those year's led up to these moments. now, every weekend ymir would host these little... parties or when it was strictly chill vibes and no one had the time or the energy to run around with don julio in each hand. she would host a small kickback. only inner friends only.

that consistent of you, ymir, connie's dumb ass, a girl named sasha, who connie knew in pre-school, sasha's close friend jean or john. you'd forgotten a little to quickly for your liking. they'd been coming around for months and last and least, jean's friend eren yeager.

eren's... alright. you don't have anything bad to say about the boy. he's always sweet enough to you but it seems like every time you want to engage in a conversation, its over shadowed by whatever else someone is saying. at the end of the day he's still a stranger you hadn't taken the full time to get to know. it's funny how many times you'd shared a blunt with him, lip's colliding yet never learned a single thing about him.

he has a attracting spirit. the kind you found hot to an extent. he's the type to wear strong fragrances to turn heads and its exactly what he does. that skunky scent of lavish soap and expensive cologne he seemed to never leave the house without was a dead give away he was in the area. he's always adorn in sweat pants and baggy shirt's that don't do him any justice.

you could tell he takes pride in his look, well he somewhat did at least. he always has this self-approving look on his face. his fingers are always decorated with silver rings that go well with the skeleton bone tattoo that paints from his left veiny hand to his shoulder.

it makes it hard not to look his direction when he makes such a grand entrance. he's a real eye catcher, a pretty boy you knew shouldn't be anywhere in your area. you don't do good with flirty looks and bed room eyes. they could lead you to a spare bedroom any fucking time.

" |⋆|, ghost face or michael myers? " ymir asks, breaking you out of your mini tundra.

" probably ghost face, he's so fuckable. " connie rolls his eyes, taking a big hit from the blunt he'd been preparing for minutes. the bud is covered in ashes' by the time he pulls away, heaps of smoke coming from his side of the room.

sasha, who got the second best seat in the house sat a few feet away from you. she giggles. " real recognizes real. " you nodded with a smirk and clapped her hand, the noise echo's in the spacious living room.

" you nigga's are just freaky, that's all it is. " you almost let a 'shut up connie.' fall from your lips but the front door opens. in walks the person who was always late. eren. he has his hands in these loose, black sweat-pant pockets, you don't have to see those daring fingers to know he has them covered with hard looking rings. the grey t'shirt he's wearing has a design on the front you cant really decipher.

" what's up yeager. " eren tilts his head up for a greeting and makes his way to connie. his plush lips twist into a confident simper as he daps the two guys up.

eren's speaking again, taking a glance at the table with half of the snacks missing and only two rolls left. " y'all couldnt wait on me? "

" you take forever. " you say, bringing a dark blanket to your chest. " so what? " eren replies with smugness, his green eyes peering at yours with pure coy. you only return it with your infamous eyeroll to kill his dreams.

'i hate a nigga that knows he's good looking. '

" you live the closest. " stating the obvious, eren plops down in the seat in between connie and jean, folding his arms over the back, man-spreading his clothed legs to get some more room. its like he knows you want to look at his every move. he's too damn fine for his own good.

it isn't long before he's changing his seating position and he's reaching at that brown wooden table for a pack of rolls and the weed grinder. he opens the black container – seeing connie left him enough for one blunt. he's taking his win quickly.

finger's making quick toil on folding the creases in, tongue slipping out to seal it. you're face is fuming when he brings the lighter to the end of the blunt and the light reflects on his face. he's so focused on the misty smoke and not wasting the little he has, he doesn't notice the gushing look he's getting from the woman across the room.

'did it just get hotter in here or something?' you take a glance to the thermostat next to the goldish rimmed painting hanging above your head. sixty-seven degrees and no showing of anything getting hotter anytime soon. you chew on your lip. its probably that thick ass blunt ymir made you. it has to be kicking in or something.

speaking of the freckle faced stoner, she walks back into the room, you hadn't even noticed she'd gotten up. she's empty handed, using one of her hands to swipe a strand of hair out of her face. " bro, can we start the movie? i'm tryna' hang out with historia later. "

sasha ooo's like a school girl, wiggling her pale, small fingers teasingly at ymir. " you're always with historiaaa~. " sasha has this silly smirk on her face and the brown skinned girl groans from it, flipping her middle finger in her direction.

usually it takes a while to pick a movie. by this time the weed is hitting all of them and blurring the limit for time. they would often scroll through the same list on netflix and not even realize it.

this time is a little different, ymir is in a real rush to get to this 'friend' of hers. she has the tiny roku remote in her fingers as she continuously flicker through the movies. she ultimately stops on a scary movie and clicks the screen. she sends a look around the room for any concerns then actually plays the movie.

before the credits have even started the pop of a chip bag is already sounding around the room and cheesy flavoring is flooding your senses. sasha's wincing with a pouty smile, not realizing how alerting the noise was.

the first scene is a white girl manually popping corn. the volume is low but the surround sound speakers ymir got installed almost a year ago make it seem much louder. it isn't long before that same girl is killed in front of a big front yard.

by the time the movie ends, everyone is pretty much out of it. heads leaning on arm rest's. the lighters have stopped clicking and the smell of weed isn't prominent as it used to be. you'd grown used to that cozy smell. the foggy room is actually clear for the first time in years.

wiping your eyes like a kid, then realizing you had on lashes. you curse underneath your breath. looking around the quiet room, sasha and jean are sleeping soundly. connie was sleep twenty minutes into the movie. you could hear his loud ass snores. ymir isn't even in the room anymore. the second the movie ended she was gone out the front door but not without giving you a loused side hug.

you figured you were the only one functioning correctly and tossed the blanket to the side. the cold sends chill's down your arms but you don't mind it. it feels sort of good. your painted feet hit the tiled floor with a small 'plap' sound and you glance around the room to make sure it hadn't woke anyone up.

" where you going' ? " jumping, the fabric of your white, zip up jacket is grasped. instead of consoling your fear, the mad-man laughs.

" stop laughing bro, i almost had a heart attack. " you pause, taking a breath. " thought yo ass was sleep. " you explain further, standing up fully and getting a good, well hazy look at eren. his phone light is on dim and he's barely bringing it up high enough to make it known he's awake.

both of his shoulders are pretty much in use by the two boys he's squished in between. instead of looking uncomfortable, it looks like he found slight comfort in them being next to him. it's leaving a smile on your face instead of a panicked frown.

he hum's, dropping the dark phone in his lap. " still didn't answer my question. " you tilt your head, thinking back to said question.

when it finally hits your scuzzy mind, you're letting out a soft 'oh!' " no where, well i don't know. i just want some fresh air. " you're falsely admitting, stretching your body to release any tension.

did you really need some fresh air or were the stirs from connie and jean making it known they could wake up and once again take away the little time you had to get to know eren? it's probably the bud thinking for you at this point.

" you can come with me. " turning on your heels, you almost miss the several groans from jean and connie from being pushed aside. " you that eager nigga? " questioning with the slightest amount of tease, he's right behind you in a heart beat.

" nah. " turning back to look at him, he's already looking at your back side with a smirk. his own limbs being stretched out. he slips on his slides and you didn't feel like putting on your boots, so you opted on stealing ymir's flip-flops she kept by the door.

you didn't really plan this far out. it has to be around eleven or so, your to high to drive home, you actually didn't need any air and you can already tell its cold as hell outside. it was just the perfect excuse to get out of that room and into a more private one with eren, no one was going to interrupt your mission.

men are so easy, your practically nodding to yourself. ymir's back door is opened and closed within seconds, the back porch is nicely clean except for a few leaves and dirt that you didn't really care about right now, you swiped some dirt off the second step and shuffled to the left to give him some room.

eren is sitting down on the first step soon after, without the hassle of wiping anything down. now, its quiet and cold, and there's really nothing to say or do when the wind is speaking.

" how long you been in shiganshina? " he asks after long periods of silence.

" my whole life. " your replying, low eyes blurry with the upcoming mist from the weather. " and you? "

" born and raised. " then its quiet again. your messing with your acrylic's , only looking up when a tree bristles loud enough to sound like it might fall.

" those are really pretty. " quirking your head up, it seemed like you're staring into a bottomless pit of beauty. eren's not even paying attention to anything but you and the way your skin is still so moist in such cold air.

its little details on his face you thought you'd already noticed before that have you feining. you squint your eyes. his nose is pierced on the right side. the actually dot isn't a dot like yours. its a silver star that's small but glance worthy when anyone see's it.

his hair looks so healthy, not only in the sun but also in the moonlight. you're kind of jealous of that. even in its normal state in that low back bun, you can tell he isn't using men's one-hundred in one. the wind casts a breeze in your direction, that's giving you another reminder. the soft smell of lemon and something sweet like pineapple's is hitting your nose. such different smells that go rewardingly well on him.

" gimme' your hand. " your obeying it without question, he chuckles at the haste and you dare to drag your hand away. " i'm playing pretty, i just want to see. "

" why? " asking nicely and still letting him slither those slender, tattooed fingers over your bedazzled nails, he's humming again and not answering your question now.

" hello? " rubbing his thumb over your knuckle gently, the calluses of his own has you quietly swallowing. he perks your hand up finally and actually looks at the nails now. " my bad, my mom does nails. " you frown, still not understanding what that has to do with him looking at your hands like a meal.

giving him a better show, you half curl your hand and lay it side ways in his own. your palms touching and forming heat you didn't know you needed to entirely bad. " so? " you mutter, not returning the eye contact you know he has on you.

" nothing, she could just do better than this. " he flaunting out, stretching those delicate fingers ever so slightly. you don't even realize he brings both of your hands down and resting them on his rough lap, you're to focused on the cute little gesture's he's making.

" you letting me meet your mommy already? " it was cute how he wanted to get his mom some new clients, he must be a momma's boy. eren's nodding instead of laughing though, replying with simplicity. " yeah. "

" what's up with you bro. " you chuckle. " i don't even know your birthday and your trying to let me meet your mom's- "

" march thirtieth. " cutting you off, you almost forgot you had even said anything about a birthday. your brain is realtering itself to remember that date when this high is over.

eren's not ashamed to look at the prize he wants. he's been plotting for fucking months and nothing is going to break him out of this. his low, emerald eyes are falling down the pattern of your silver zipper, falling into your lap. undressing those lacey panties he just knows you have on under those pants.

it has you shying away, wanting to turn around in your respectful seat. that's when it hits you. that grip on your hand wasn't from your other one. it's from his, unmoving and finally locking into those intimidatingly attractive eyes, your glancing at those wet lips he managed to always keep looking mushy.

you know they are the softest lips you'd ever feel. like pillows sent from heaven. you grip his hand, no longer just wanting to feel his sweaty palm, but those fingers- his fore arms, his strong shoulders. everywhere he'd allow you.

" eren... " encaging his fingers into a tight hold, he takes a quick look at his thigh. he isn't able to hide the side smile that's forming. you don't even know why you're calling his name, you just wanted him to say something with that slutty voice of his. – just acknowledge you in every way possible.

" yeah? " your beady eyes are watering from the constant pressure of wind and its becoming so fucking obvious you both don't want to be in the cold anymore.

" what are you trying to do? "

" you want me to be honest baby? " baby... that word has you dripping, squeezing your thighs together to take away that ache in your cunt. you nod. you can't find those confident words anywhere in sight. its hard to say men are easy when you're soaking just from being close to him.

" i wanna take you to a room and make you feel real good. " his head is cocking to the left and those eyes he kept on you are dropping lower. his hand twitches in your grasp and it doesn't take much to know he's putting you in eight different positions in his head.

" we don't even have to fuck, i just want to eat your pussy. "

your mouth lathers with saliva, and your standing up to entirely quick. eren is laughing behind you and your so horny you don't even tell him off. you don't care about the three people on the couch sleeping good. you want to take this pretty boy up on his offer.

⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⚔︎

⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀

folded up, knees to your chest. the air is hitting your warm pussy. your panting from the littlest touches to your body. plush form being demolished by the stronger man keeping you still. eren has his hands in the bottom creases of your knees, applying pressure that only gives you minimal lay away to move around.

your pussy is leaking on the sheets, all type's of fluid leaving a stain you didn't care for. he's mouthing on your cunt, his spit coating your pussy in a new layer of slick. eren kept his word. he didn't need to fuck you to feel good. he made that known when he took a long lick from your entrance to the top of your cunt in a slow strobe, whimpering hard.

" stop squirming baby. " he's muttering into your pussy, kissing your puffy clit. face full of your cum and arousal. he's so deep in between those legs he can barely breathe. his stubbled chin constantly coming in contact with your needy, waiting entrance.

you cant keep your hands from gripping at any and everything. your holding onto the spare room pillow, covering your face and mouth to keep the others from hearing the total mess you're steady becoming.

" nah, move that. " you don't listen, your voice pouty and muffled in the pillow. eren doesn't have time to play games with you, he's been doing that for months. he snatches the pillow away himself and throws it at the wall.

" i wanna hear you. fuck them. " your spasming on his tongue again before you can speak. weeps of moans falling on deaths door from the amount of pleasure happening on your pretty pussy. your hiccupping from the lack of air entering your lungs, to caught up on the way eren is twisting his tongue over your sensitive clit.

eren's been licking, flicking and sucking on your clit for almost a hour. he just can't get enough of you. you taste so sweet and tarty, its like a fucking desert he can only indulge in. anything your body is willingly to push out for him to taste he's sucking it up.

fucking his tongue in and out of your tight hole, eyes open the entire time to watch you come undone. your hair is sticking to your face, the ginger bringing the caramel out of your skin and aiding your beauty. he didn't think you could get any more sexier.

" fuck baby, " smacking your inner thigh, he gets a breather before he actually dies in the best way possible. " pussy to damn dangerous. " he's huffing and hitting those soft, thick thighs, wanting nothing more than to leave his marks on your skin.

your cute little face scrunches and yelps fill the room, his mouth falling back on those fat lips to get another sample, tasting that sweet juicy fruit. his jaw is hurting and damn near begging for it to end but he doesn't give a fuck. he wants to make you feel good, too good.

your to much of a pretty girl to not have someone in between these legs every day. " 'ren! " eren speeds up, ignoring those pleas. " 'ren, baby please. " you're begging, the knot in your stomach forming from the endless pleasure. you don't know if your begging because its too much or he's to damn good at this and you need to repay him somehow.

– between the base of your thighs being smacked and the vibration of eren moaning, a shock ascends throughout your body. cumming for the third time that night. stars are forming in the far corners of your eyes. it feels like eren has full control of your body. he's keeping you still with only two arms and smirking from how fucked out you already look.

your body is still twitching and it takes a army and every working limb you have to pull him off of you by his hair. he's raspy and to happy for someone who could've died from being to pussy drunk. your chest is heavy and it feels like you can finally inhale properly.

" my bad. " sheepishly apologizing, he plants a soft kiss to your abused clit and toothily smiles when you give him a death stare. gently bringing your knees from your squished chest down, he's kissing your sore knee-caps, wetly sucking on the frontal part of your thighs.

somethings bothering you heavily and its making your chest warm unnaturally seeing him care about every aspect of your body. " why are you taking care of me? "

" whatchu' talking about? "

" this. " you lazily point at his hands that sting a way into your pores. " you kissing on me like you love me and shit. "

" wouldn't go that far. " your rolling your red eyes again and dragging a hand down to your tummy, letting it rest for the time being. " this is mandatory though. you just fuck with the wrong boys. " you want to take it as a stray but actually process it. have you really been messing with guy's who didn't think to care for your body?

it has you recurring every misaligning person you let into your safe space and have a way with your figure. " hey, don't think about it " eren snaps in your face. " that's why i'm here, ima take care of you baby. promise. "

biting your lip, your pushing everything away because he asked you too and something about that foreign feeling doesn't feel to damn bad. you don't have it in you to talk or ask him for anything else, but you spread those legs of yours and beckon him to come here. how can he ever say no to you.

he's shuffling in-between you, applying his hand on one of the pillows next to your head. you stare into his alluring eyes, raking your hand from your own stomach to his. he's gulping, his adam's apple plumping with nerves.

" you wanna fuck me yeager? " he feels like a virgin when you speak like that. anxious and scared to disappoint, he's nodding, bring his head down to plant a soft kiss to your plump lips. just like you thought, they're so pulpy and flush. he kisses like butter, like a piece of bubble gum that's so slinky you almost want to swallow it.

the kiss is deepening with the mood, the fist in his hair is keeping him from cumming in his pants. he almost doesn't want to pull away but he can feel her dripping under him and there's only so much his dick can take before it's begging to be buried inside that soft cushion.

he's making quick work with his clothes. sitting on the balls of his feet, he's tugging his shirt over his head. the sight of his toned chest has you gawking. it's a good thing he only wore comfy clothing, you would've pounced on him the moment he walked into this house.

" take your time... " you joke, casting your surly eyes to the space below your plush tummy. tapping your nails on your stomach. he's already groaning from the sight. you didn't think he could get any faster, he's slipping out of pants and those tight boxers in second.

to say you were disappointed never crossed your mind. you're actually fucking nervous. he's thick, with a healthy pink tip and some inches that make you squeeze your stomach in.

" don't go getting scared on me pretty. " stroking his length, he's bringing your left leg up, kissing the base of your ankle sloppily. his dick is leaking with pre-cum, slouching his tip on your clit. you both let out a soft gasp.

the feeling is euphonic, sensitive clit being brought back to life with one little swipe. your grinding lightly on his tip and he's hissing from how wet she is. " yeah baby, mhmm... you know how to do it. " he praises, his teeth biting into his cheek.

" put it in 'ren. " lifting your hips, you get so close to pushing his dick in and he aids it, his brows knitting, mouth falling open when he aligns it right, sliding into your entrance with ease.

the moan's fall off the wall. he's stretching you so well. the pain almost feels too good. your mouth shaped into a 'o and your hands are fumbling for something new to grab. eren has his head draped down to watch him slip inside of that pussy that cant help but suck him in.

he's whimpering when you clench- moaning when you're folding your legs around him to push in deeper. it's like he can cum from this alone. you just hugging him in has him gapping.

" pussy to fuckin' wet, fuckkk. " he's groaning out in between deep thrusts, pace picking up fast as fuck for someone on the verge of tapping out. your body is following his orders, back arched with intent to make him feel good. eyes rolling from the captivity of his being.

its almost to much when he pushes in to deep, hips runting into your poor cunt like she hadn't been through enough. his tip is ramming into that gushy spot inside of you that has your brain shuttering to working. your mewling loud -- unable to form a single coherent word.

legs pulled tight to hold him in, cunt tightening on his dick making his steady thrust sloppy for mere seconds before he's back to putting in work. dainty fingers coming to rest on his v-line, not pushing but not letting him reach that spot that makes you go fucking crazy. he's silent with how bothered he is about that hand, he knows you're still sensitive and recovering from those heavenly orgasms, but he's to entuned to stop when he knows it'll make you feel so, so good.

" move it. " he's stating with attitude, you refuse to and he only slows down. you whine from the loss. your moaning his name pathetically, lifting your own hips to get that feeling back before its gone. he holds your supple hips down, leaning down to kiss and fondle with your brown nipples.

" e'ren, come on! "

" you gonna keep that fuckin' hand down? " you nod, panting, surprised you were even able to speak in the first place. he's returned that pace little by little, watching your fingers retreat to one of the blue pillows behind your back, eyes closed.

head hanging low, hair coming out of that bun from all the tugging, he almost looks like a greek status above you- one hand on your tummy, squishing it down to feel the cave his dick is making, the other bringing your left leg back to his lips, folding you – he's to caught up in how response you are to his touches.

propping your ankle on his shoulder, leaning down to look you dead in your watery eyes. you cant shy away from nothing now. he's thrusting in deep, pussy gushing all over the sheets and his length. eye's faltering when it comes to keeping that contact.

" i'm so close baby. " he's warning you and your nodding to agree with him, your arms lifting to his neck, dragging him down for a kiss. tongue lacing with his like second nature – eyes shut when that knot in your guts is on the verge of breaking and broken cries are falling in between the kiss.

" gonna cum in you baby, you don't mind that d-do you? " to head-struck, your nodding like a idiot in heat. that gives eren a new goal, he's stroking in like a wild animal, biting his lip so hard it bleeds when you squeeze him.

trying your hardest to keep your moans in, eren pushes in one last time and hits that blurry spot that renders you brain dead. your moaning, clawing on his v'line with that new set to keep him from moving. cunt completely spent and aching again when eren is painting your walls white.

the warm feeling only making it worse, now he cant move or you might regret it. eren's heaving, one hand on the headrest to puff out and rush in the smell of sex, vanilla and shea butter.

" fuckkk i gotta' get you a plan b asap. "

⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀

©𝙀𝙈𝙋𝘼𝙏𝙃𝙄𝘾𝙇𝙄𝘼𝙍 any sort of stealing or modifying is prohibited, mess with your momma not me.

[httpuckdrop]

boyfriend? – ws2

will gets possessive (jealous) when seeing you with other guys.

pairing: will smith x friend!reader

genre: fluff, college!au

word count: 760

warnings: mentions of alcohol

author's note: been in SUCH a will mood recently, it's not even funny. he's just so !!!! it's not my fault actually :( anyways have this little blurb, hope u enjoy <3

will hates this.

he doesn't hate parties per se, just this specific one. he does think the party is good; the music is great, a lot of his friends are here, not too calm yet not too crazy. but he hates it mainly because no matter what he does, what room of the apartment he moves into or what classmate he chats to, he always ends up catching you in the corner of his eye.

looking at you is definitely not something will dislikes – on the contrary, he could spend the rest of his life staring at you without feeling bored for even a second. that's how beautiful you are to him.

but seeing you get flirted with and seeing people exploit the fact that you've had more than your share of the drinks table? he hates that.

he tries to handle it by moving along, finding new groups to join and new subjects to talk about to get his mind off you. cool, the school's football team won yesterday; oh yeah, that physics professor seems insane; did you watch that new movie?

it works for a while, but he eventually finds his eyes wandering off to you in every room. you're just that radiant, attracting his attention without even trying. that fact is something he's okay with, and he supposed he'll just have to get used to seeing you with other guys every once in a while, even if it's terribly painful.

but when that stupid football jock you've been talking to for the last fifteen minutes places his hand on your ass as he leans in to whisper in your ear – has he no shame? will asks himself – will has had enough.

in just a few quick strides, he has made it over to you, and his left arm drapes across your shoulders instantly. "there you are, baby," he says, leaning down to press a fleeting kiss to your temple. "been looking all over for you."

the guy takes a step back instinctively, his eyes narrowing at the sight. it takes a moment for you to realize what's happening, but when your head turns toward will, your entire face lights up. "william!" you exclaim, arms wrapping around his torso and pulling him in for a hug. he flinches at the full name – you're even drunker than he thought – but he relaxes once you're in his arms instead of that guy's.

"who are you?"

will looks back to the man you were talking to earlier. "oh, shit- i'm sorry, rude of me not to introduce myself." he holds out his right hand, his other one falling down your waist. "i'm will. nice to meet you, man."

the other guy reluctantly shakes will's hand, frowning slightly. "you two a thing or something?"

will leans the side of his head against the top of yours. "girlfriend and boyfriend for almost two years now."

your eyes widen at this, jaw dropping with a gasp. "boyfriend?" you ask. "you're my boyfriend?"

he chuckles, hoping he doesn't sound as nervous as he feels, but nods. "i think you-" he accentuates the word with a tap to your nose. "-have had a little too much to drink if you don't remember me."

the other guy leaves the scene looking a little nauseous, and will can finally relax a little. you, however, seem to not notice anything going on around you, still focused on his touch on your nose several moments later. "too much? no, i'm not even tipsy..."

"sure you aren't." will's hand reaches for yours, tugging on it as he starts walking out of the room. "come on, let's go back to the dorm."

"what dorm?" you ask, yet you reluctantly walk after him.

"your dorm."

once you reach the front door, he rummages through the millions of coats hanging on the wall before finding yours. he hangs it over your shoulders, trying his best to ignore the pout on your lips. "i wasn't done in there." you tilt your head to the side. "why are you forcing me out?"

"i'm taking care of you," he corrects.

"same thing." he lets go of your hand and your eyes follow his movements when he puts on his own jacket, already missing his warmth on your skin. "why?"

he shrugs. "boyfriend duties, i guess."

you step out into the cold together, and the fresh air helps you begin to come to your senses. yet, you find yourself mumbling, "if you're actually my boyfriend, you should kiss me. on the lips."

oh, how badly he wishes he could.

"another time, baby."

[lvlybin]

✶ is it new year's yet?

summary   ༝༚༝༚ … ZB1 as your New Year’s Eve kiss

reactions ! ૮ ྀི◞ ⸝⸝ ◟ ྀིა    ۫  ੭̲    제비스 x 𝓯!reader ⊹ ( library )

爱    ࿁ ⠀ ˚⠀ warnings … kissing duh, alcohol & drinking, mentions of sex, mentions of social anxiety, they’re at a club in gyuvin’s part, not proofread

✉️ happy one week since new year’s! lol I wanted to post something cute that was new year’s related so I whipped this up really quick. sorry that it’s so late from the actual holiday >_<

ㅤ ⎯⎯ㅤ 𝓙iwoong ﹙𝓴.﹚ㅤ

The winter air is sharp as you step out onto the balcony. To keep yourself warm, you wrap your arms around your bare arms, wondering why you hadn’t worn a warmer dress to this New Year’s event. In your defense, you hadn’t planned to stay this long. It was supposed to be one quick drink, saying hello to everyone, and then back to your apartment. But then you’d realized Jiwoong was there. 

     It’s not like you would admit it to anyone, but you’d stayed for him. The two of you had been growing closer throughout the year and after the short winter break from work, you were desperate to spend a little more time with him. As if the texting hadn’t been enough. “Getting some fresh air?” God, even the sound of his voice was enough to have your heart racing. You glance back to watch him exit onto the balcony as well. 

     He looked so good in a suit. “It’s stuffy in there,” you say, rubbing your hands over your bare skin as you smile at him. Jiwoong doesn’t hesitate to slip off his suit jacket, draping it over your shoulders before you can even protest and the scent of his cologne surrounds you. “Thank you,” you whisper and he nods once.

      “It looks like it’s about to snow,” he mentions, and, oh for fuck’s sake, he’s talking about the weather. You laugh and he looks over at you with a smile of his own. You suck in a small breath, the cold making your nose sting as he shifts closer to you. Both of you stand next to the glass railing, looking over the bright lights of Seoul as each person waits for midnight to strike. “YN,” Jiwoong says, snapping you out of your daze.

      You try to keep yourself from sounding too hopeful, “Yes?” Jiwoong opens his mouth to say something, only for a particularly loud firework to go off in the distance. You jump slightly, in surprise, and Jiwoong moves to settle you by placing his hands on your waist. The touch makes your body warm despite the cold. “Must be midnight.” Another firework, and for a moment, you watch as the glittering gold fizzles out in the dark sky against small snowflakes.

      Jiwoong’s eyes flick down to your lips for a fleeting moment before they return to your eyes. “Happy New Year, YN.” 

      You were tired of waiting. Raising on your toes slightly, you press a soft kiss to his lips, enjoying the look of surprise on his face as you pull away. You like the grin that follows after even more. “Happy New Year, Jiwoong–” You barely get his name out before his lips are back on yours.

ㅤ ⎯⎯ㅤ 𝓗ao ﹙𝔃.﹚ㅤ

“I am never hosting again,” you grumble as you finish wiping down the kitchen counter of your apartment, “Didn’t know our friends were such animals.” Hao’s laugh is loud from his spot in the living room where he’s picking up a few cups. You mentally thank your past self for not letting them stay all night, a few hours was clearly enough for them to do plenty of damage.

     “We just got done with finals. They’re just blowing off some steam,” Hao says as he walks into the kitchen holding a garbage bag. You pout as you glance at the bag.

      “I can’t believe Matthew broke that lamp, it was one of my favorites.” Hao coos softly at your complaint, setting the bag down. With your arms crossed over your chest, Hao places his hands on your shoulders to press a kiss on your forehead.

      “I’ll buy you another one.”

      “No, you’ve gotten me enough Christmas presents already–”

      “Then consider this a New Year's present.” You give Hao a pointed look as he pulls away. His thumb comes up to brush over your bottom lip. “None of that. You can’t stop me from spoiling you.”

      You let out a dramatic sigh, “Well there goes my New Year’s resolution.” Hao laughs again and your heart flutters at the sound. His arms wrap around you and he rests his chin on the top of your head. Slowly, the embrace causes the rest of your annoyance from having to clean up your apartment to melt away. He just had that effect on you–making everything feel okay. 

      Your relationship with Hao was hard to classify. He’d been your best friend ever since you started university, but it didn’t take long before it grew into something more. Something deeper. Now, it was a weird space between dating and not dating. You hated the word situationship, so you refused to call it that. Honestly, you were just waiting for the day when one of you forgets that you haven’t made it official and just starts calling each other boyfriend and girlfriend.

      “It’s midnight,” Hao whispers into the quiet atmosphere of your kitchen. And he’s right, you can hear fireworks going off in the distance. Pulling away from him a little, you glance back over your shoulder at the clock on your stove. Sure enough, it reads midnight. But when you turn back to Hao, you’re met with his lips on yours. It’s just a soft kiss, his lips pressing to yours for a few moments before he pulls away. “Sorry,” he mumbles, “But you have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do that.”

      But you do. Grinning, you use your grip on his shoulders to pull yourself back up to his lips. Your tongue slips into his mouth, swirling with his as Hao’s hands trace two paths down your sides to grip your waist. The two of you are out of breath by the time you separate again. “That was the New Year’s present I wanted.”

ㅤ ⎯⎯ㅤ 𝓗anbin ﹙𝓼.﹚ㅤ

Your boyfriend was such a genius. And while you knew he was romantic, this was by far the best surprise he’d ever planned for you. A small sigh escapes you as you settle into the hot tub, pine trees and a thick blanket of snow surrounding the cabin he’d rented for the two of you over the holidays. 

     “C’mere, baby,” Hanbin’s soft voice meets your ears as you sink further into the hot water, half swimming and half walking over to where he’s sat. The sight of his whisker dimples makes your heart melt as he helps you onto his lap, jets bubbling around you both to soothe your muscles. “Good temperature?”

     “It’s perfect,” you reassure. “This is exactly what I needed after skiing all day. God, I love how your mind works.” Hanbin laughs and you absentmindedly trace your thumb over the tattoo that rests between his collarbones. 

     “Wanting to see my girlfriend in a bikini and having her to myself for a few days is hardly genius.” You shake your head in disagreement. Snow falls lazily around you both, landing in his hair and yours as his ears turn a little red from the cold. Or maybe it was from having you in his lap. Hanbin had never really gotten used to that over the two years you’d been dating. 

     “Still.” You shift a little in his lap to reach for your glass of wine, taking a small sip before setting it back down. “Best New Year’s Eve ever. Best Christmas ever.”

     Hanbin lets out a small Oh as he wraps his arms around your waist, holding you closely to him. “I try. Especially hard for you. And you know…” You hum in acknowledgment. “2025 is gonna be a big year for us.”

     “Reallyyy,” you drag the word out a little as excitement rushes through you. You have a feeling you know what he’s referencing, but you won’t say anything about it, knowing he likes to plan things his way. Particularly when it comes to surprises and definitely when it comes to you. Like this little getaway. It had been bliss waking up every day to him and a stunning winter wonderland. Going into the small town for shopping and dinners. Going skiing and ice skating. And now, ringing in the New Year in probably the largest hot tub you’ve ever seen.

     The reflection of the blue water ripples across his face as he nods, steam rising off the surface from the temperature difference. “Really,” he breathes as he moves his hand to cup your cheek. 

     The kiss he pulls you into is soft and loving, like he’s trying to pour all of his affection into you through the one action. Playfully, his teeth nip at your bottom lip as he pulls away. “Happy New Year, baby.”

ㅤ ⎯⎯ㅤ 𝓜atthew ﹙𝓼.﹚ㅤ

The last thing you remember from New Year’s Eve was doing body shots with your roommate. It had been well before midnight when you blacked out. Hell, you weren’t even sure if you’d stayed up late enough for the clock to strike twelve. 

     Blinking harshly against the pounding behind your eyes, you peek your eyes open. Maybe it was the hangover but your bed felt softer than usual– this wasn’t your room. The walls were a shade darker, the bedding a deep gray, and all of the Pokémon characters and other figurines on the shelves were definitely not yours. You almost let out a small groan at the realization. Sure enough, when you glance down next to you, Matthew’s still passed out in his bed. He’s shirtless, and your heart drops along with your eyes and– Thank god. You’re not naked. 

     But this isn’t your shirt either. It’s Matthew’s. Which either meant that you’d stolen it last night while you were under the influence, you’d thrown up on the top you’d been wearing (which would be sad, you love that top), or certain activities had occurred the night before. Another rush of panic goes through you and your hangover is long forgotten as you reach to shake Matthew awake. “Matt!” He doesn’t stir for a moment, and you smack his bare shoulder softly. “Matt, wake up.”

     He grumbles at that, his eyes peeking open a little and you imagine that he’s feeling the same way you are right now. Hungover and confused. “What?” he mumbles after a moment, his voice rough with sleep. It’s like he doesn’t even register the fact that you’re in his bed. Or maybe he does with the way he rolls over, wrapping his arms around your waist and burying his face into your stomach. The action makes you freeze. You were used to him being touchy but this? This was new.

     “Why am I wearing your shirt?” Matthew hums at your words, but he doesn’t move. 

     “You wanted to sleep in it.”

     “Please tell me we didn’t–”

     “Have sex?” You hear him chuckle softly as he pulls away from your stomach to glance up at you. “Nah.” You let out a breath of relief and his brows furrow. “Do you remember anything from last night?” 

     You shrug, hands absentmindedly going to brush through his messy hair. “I remember doing body shots. That’s the last thing, though.” Matthew groans as he rolls onto his back. 

     “C’mere.”

     “Sorry?” you say, voice filled with confusion. Your roommate just gestures for you to cuddle into his side. Hesitantly, you scooch over before laying back down, resting your head on his chest as he wraps an arm around you.

     “Gonna have to remind you of our New Year’s kiss then,” he says before his lips meet yours.

ㅤ ⎯⎯ㅤ 𝓣aerae ﹙𝓴.﹚ㅤ

Superstitions were never something you’d believed in before, but you figured this was at least worth a shot. After all, you were going to need some extra luck if you wanted to follow through with your plan to kiss Taerae in approximately two minutes. Glancing at the bowl of grapes in your hands, you slip under Taerae’s kitchen table and begin to eat. 

     Only four of the twelve grapes are gone when your best friend’s face appears over the edge of the table. “What’re you doing down there?” his gentle voice meets your ears as you swallow.

     “Nothing,” you mumble, eating another grape. Taerae gives you a look before he moves to sit under the table with you as well. When he reaches for a grape, you slap his hand away. He lets out a small cry, but you know he’s just being dramatic. You would laugh if you weren’t running out of time to finish these grapes before it was the new year. 

     “It’s almost midnight,” Taerae says, watching as you continue stuffing your face with the fruit. “Seriously, what’s with the grapes?”

     “It’s for luck,” you say between bites. “Eat twelve grapes under the table and you get luck for the twelve months of the new year.” Taerae laughs.

     “And what do you need luck for?” Your face warms as you look down at the two grapes left in the bowl.

     “You’ll find out soon enough.” One more grape left and as you reach to take it, Taerae beats you to it. “Hey!” you cry softly, setting the bowl down as he chews, fighting back laughter. “Now I have to go get another one–”

     His large hands find your cheeks pulling your lips to his. He tastes like the grape he’d just eaten, and you’re sure you do as well. His tongue presses against yours as he coaxes your lips apart, deepening the kiss as the clock strikes midnight. When he pulls away, you subconsciously chase his lips, craving the feeling of his mouth on yours again. Taerae grins a little, giving you another small peck. “Is that what you needed luck for?”

     Your face warms, and you’re sure Taerae can feel it from the way his hands hold your blushing cheeks still. “How’d you know?” you ask shyly.

     “You’re more obvious than you think.” You laugh as you let your forehead fall to rest on his shoulder, both of you still crammed under the table. Taerae’s back was probably hurting, but he didn’t say anything about it. “And did you really think that I haven’t seen what sitting under the table means?"

ㅤ ⎯⎯ㅤ 𝓡icky ﹙𝓼.﹚ㅤ

One of Ricky’s favorite things about his relationship with you was that you were comfortable with staying in just as much as going out. And while you both loved your date nights out, it was usually him dragging you out to the restaurants or museums or wherever else you were going. This time though, you’d done the dragging to a scene that was definitely going to overstimulate you both.

     With small apologies, you push past people in the crowd filling the streets of New York’s Times Square, hand firmly in Ricky’s as you pull him along with you. The bright lights hurt his eyes and there were so many people around that the cold air couldn’t even touch his nose. His grip on you tightens a little, too worried about losing you in the busy crowd. Ricky had to remind himself that he was doing this for you. That you’d wanted to see the ball drop since you were little and used to watch it on TV with your family.

     “Come on!” you shout softly to him as you find a spot in the crowd to stand and watch. Ricky’s quick to wrap his arms around you from behind, protecting you from the way other people were shoving to try and get a better view of the ball before the New Year’s countdown began. You glance up at him. “You okay?”

     “I’m okay as long as you are.” And it was the truth. While Ricky may not be the biggest fan of crowds like this, he would do it for you. The way the shining lights illuminated the excitement on your face was worth any kind of social anxiety he might feel. Besides, having you in his arms like this, smiling up at him made all of those worries go away.

     “It’s starting!” you gasp softly as the people around you both begin the countdown. You’re quick to follow along, shouting the words like everyone else, and with a small chuckle, Ricky begins counting down as well. It’s like time slows as he watches your eyes, the glimmer of awe in them as you watch such a simple thing happen. It was adorable. He knew he should be watching the ball like you were, but he couldn’t take his eyes off your face even as the shouts of Happy New Year rang out around the streets. Confetti explodes from the top of buildings, raining down on the crowd and you tilt your head back to watch with a small giggle. 

     Your eyes meet his and somehow, your smile softens even more. Then, like the other couples surrounding you in the square, Ricky presses his lips against yours.

ㅤ ⎯⎯ㅤ 𝓖yuvin ﹙𝓴.﹚ㅤ

“D’you have a New Year’s kiss yet?” Were the first words you heard from the tall individual. You look up from your drink to the boy who approaches you as you sit at the table your friends had claimed at the club, expecting to tell off some ugly, egotistical douchebag. But the face that meets your eyes is anything but that. Fluffy brown hair falls over his chocolate-colored eyes as he smiles at you. Thank goodness you were sitting. If you were standing, you would’ve collapsed right into his arms at the sight.

     “Me?” The boy laughs as he nods.

     “Yes, you.” He offers you a hand. “I’m Gyuvin.” You give him your name as you take his hand. Being careful of your shoes, he helps you stand, and– Wow, he’s so tall. The top of your head barely meets his chin as his large hand grips yours. 

     “You’re offering your New Year’s kiss to a stranger?”

     Gyuvin shrugs, grin never leaving his pretty pink lips. “Isn’t there a saying of how you give a kiss to who you want to spend the new year with?” Your eyes flutter and your heart probably does too. 

     “Yeah–” He cuts you off as he wraps his arms around your waist, lifting you a little as he carries you towards the dance floor. There are several bodies in the space already, moving to the beat as the seconds to the new year slowly count down. A small laugh leaves you as Gyuvin sets you down.

     “Then consider this as me asking you out.” 

     “Well, you definitely get points for creativity…” you trail off as you wrap your arms around his neck. You have to stand on your toes a little to reach him, but you decide that it’s fine with the way his hands go to your hips. You could get used to this. 

     “Is that a yes?” You had a feeling you weren’t ever going to learn how to say no to him. So, you nod.

     His body presses closely against yours as midnight draws nearer, almost drawing out the anticipation as all of his firm lines meet your softer ones. Your eyes never leave Gyuvin’s as you both mutter words to each other, already feeling strangely comfortable and at home despite meeting only a few minutes ago. What seals the deal, though, is how deeply he kisses you once the clock hits midnight. Gyuvin’s tongue doesn’t fight your lips open, having enough common sense not to try to make out with you in public (especially since it was your first kiss with him), but that doesn’t stop him from holding you even closer to him somehow.

      And, yeah, this was the right decision, you conclude as he pulls away.

ㅤ ⎯⎯ㅤ 𝓖unwook ﹙𝓹.﹚

Giggling softly, you cling to your boyfriend as he carries you like you weigh nothing more than a feather. Gunwook stumbles slightly, and you know it’s from the drinks he’s had. The drinks you’ve both had courtesy to your friend group and the little New Year’s Eve party they were throwing. If you concentrated enough, you could still taste the sparkling bubbles and tangy grapes from the champagne. But you didn’t want to focus on that. You wanted to focus on the boy whose arms were wrapped tightly around your waist. 

      “Wookie,” you laugh as he tucks his face into your neck, your back meeting the wall behind you with a small Thump. He mutters a gentle sorry against your skin, but you don’t really mind. The alcohol is making you giddy and it’s making Gunwook clingy. When he pulls away to look at you in the darkness of the hallway he’d taken you to, your vision clears slightly. His skin almost looks like it’s glowing, rosebuds of blush blooming on his cheeks and you lift your hands to cup his cheeks. “You’re so soft,” you mumble, squishing his cheeks so his lips stick out a little. Gunwook’s pretty brown eyes crinkle into half-moons as he laughs at your words.

     He shifts your weight in his hands to lift you higher and you wrap your legs around his middle. As his large hands knead at the softness of your thighs peeking out from underneath your ridden-up dress, a small shiver goes through you. “I love you,” he whispers, lips finding your cheek. Then your forehead, then your nose, and finally, the corner of your mouth. “I love you sooo much–”

     “Love you too, Wookie,” you whisper, letting go of his face to hold onto his broad shoulders. Distantly, you can hear your friends begin the ten-second countdown to the New Year. They aren’t bothering looking for either of you, because they know you’re exactly where you want to be: in the arms of the person you love the most. Gunwook presses his forehead against yours as you wait for the cheers celebrating 2025 to sound. But as soon as the number One is shouted, Gunwook’s lips are on yours.     He’s quick to pry your lips apart, meeting your tongue with his as he kisses you deeply. You can feel him smile as the words “HAPPY NEW YEAR!” ring through the house. Yeah. This was the best way to ring in the New Year.

ㅤ ⎯⎯ㅤ 𝓨ujin ﹙𝓱.﹚ㅤ

“This is so embarrassing,” Yujin grumbles as the two of you continue down the driveway from your house. His parents wanted him back home by 12:15 and considering his house was a good fifteen-minute drive away from the friend's house you had been hanging out at, you were leaving a few minutes before the new year. The only problem? Yujin couldn’t drive. 

     Not that he couldn't, he just didn’t have his license yet, so you were stuck being his personal Uber. Not that you minded. He did though. 

     His hand grips yours, keeping them tucked in his coat pocket so you didn’t get too cold. “I swear, as soon as I can, I’m making an appointment so I can drive you around like you deserve.”

     You giggle, “What? You don’t like being my passenger princess?” Your boyfriend groans, the breath that leaves him showing in the air from how cold it is outside. “Seriously, Yujin, I don’t mind driving you around.”

     “But I do,” his small pout makes your heart melt. You weren’t sure how a person could be so adorable. “Makes me feel… I don’t know, less manly? Like I’m a child.”

     “We are children,” you remind him, squeezing his hand in his coat pocket as your head falls to rest on his shoulder. “One of us is just a child that can drive–”

     “Gosh, never mind,” he laughs and you smile a little, glad that he doesn’t take your teasing to heart. “It’ll be my New Year’s resolution. Being more of a stereotypical boyfriend.” You raise your eyebrows at that. The both of you are walking slower than you usually do despite it being cold, wanting to prolong your time together. 

     “And how are you gonna do that, hmm?” He looks at you, cheeks rosy from the chilly air and your eyes flick down to his lips for a moment. 

     “I’ll buy you more gifts.” You hum at the thought. “And… I’ll be more romantic,” he lists off his ideas as you begin to approach your car, stepping into the snow. It crunches under your feet as you walk toward the street. “But to start…” he trails off, your hands leaving his pocket as he stops in his tracks and you walk on. He pulls on your hands so you stumble back towards him, standing chest to chest. “I’ll do this.”

     And then in a move that’s much bolder than you were expecting from your boyfriend, his lips press against yours. It must be midnight, you think to yourself before melting into the kiss, enjoying the feel of the soft movement of his mouth against yours. Your forehead rests against his as you separate to breathe. 

     Breathlessly, you nod. “Kiss me like that again, and I’ll never bring up you not having a license again.”

[bird-inacage]

The Heart Killers EP7: The Boat Scene 'Do you want to jump or do you want to fall?'

So yep, joke's on me. I was so wrong about how this scene may unfold and the episode in general. Credit to Jojo for keeping me on my toes. I wanted to dedicate a post to this, both for the fantastic performances but also the great character beats here.

BISON'S RESOLVE FOR REVENGE

I kept wondering just how resolute Bison would be. I thought that if he saw how upset Kant was about him getting hurt, he may waver. But it actually seemed to have the opposite effect.

Bison is understandably livid at Kant. I think a portion of that rage is intensified because it's with himself. The betrayal cuts deeper due to his own negligence. He should have known better, and Fadel warned him as such. As the confrontation unfolds, Bison's steely resolve veers towards agitation and restlessness. A twitch. An itch beneath the skin. An almost defiant urgency to squash any margin for hesitancy or doubt - that the sooner this is over with, the less risk there is for him to have second thoughts. Khao does a wonderful job of trickling out only the tiniest of hairline cracks in that resolve, to keep us guessing.

Forcing Kant to jump could also be a test for remorse. 'If I tell you to jump, will you do it or will you fight back or even beg for mercy?' If Bison wanted Kant dead, he could have done it already. We see him consider all the brutal ways he could do so. And yet the one he chooses is actually the least hands on. Watching Kant enact his own demise seems to be a testament to something Bison wants an answer to: a confession perhaps. 'Are you sorry for what you did? Do you regret it? Do you feel bad for me? Was it worth it?' and most importantly 'Do you love me? Did you ever love me?' When someone hurts us, we often want them to admit to their wrongdoing. To take responsibility for the damage they've caused as it gives validation to our pain.

Kant is debilitated by fear, but he's also resigned to his guilt. It's been chasing him this entire time. So he doesn't deny or rebuff what Bison's saying. Doesn't try to deflect or swerve like he's done before now. Neither does he put up a fight for his life. He displays a bedded in helplessness, an acceptance that something you saw coming has finally caught up to you.

When Kant does jump, it seems to take Bison a second to register what's happened. The fact that Kant doesn't come back up. The realisation that Kant may actually drown and die. And he panics.

KANT LAID BARE

(This is my cue to gush about First's acting). I loved his choice of line delivery in this scene. How quietly he speaks. How small, tired, broken and subdued this makes Kant appear. It's such an unexpected but phenomenal choice. It provides a complete 180 to Kant's usual brand of flirty showmanship. That's isn't to say that version of Kant is entirely false but he's definitely been playing up the 'perfect boyfriend' bit. To be as smooth and charming as possible, and to say all the right things to win Bison's heart. This is the first time Bison is seeing Kant stripped of all that bravado. And what's left underneath? Just a man whose desperately afraid.

The sheer terror that First portrays here is so layered and visceral. He doesn't just capture that primal fear of death, but there's so much more you can read into outside of the little he does say. Underlying all that physical and mental torment is trauma, a childlike desperation that renders him completely at a loss.

He didn't have a choice when Chris threatened him to become a pawn. He didn't have a choice when it came to choosing between his brother or Bison. He didn't have a choice to walk away. And now he doesn't have a choice in how Bison wants his revenge. I've talked about the loss of control and agency with these two characters quite a bit, but this is the epitome of having your autonomy entirely stripped from you. Kant is both paralysed by his fear of drowning, but also by his guilt and knowing that he brought this on himself - having sealed his fate when he agreed to the job in the first place.

"I promise when you wake up, the version of me you'll see is the real me." What happens when you strip a person of all their defences? You get down to their rawest form. And now we're seeing it.

Thank god the pair reconcile next week, because this was absolutely agonising to sit through. Firstkhao have done it again, but did we really expect any less?

You can keep tabs on bird-inacage’s BL meta directory for my other long-form posts around The Heart Killers, which I’ll be updating in real time as the show airs.

[blanska]

I've seen that some people were thinking along the lines of "why does Veilguard make the Antivan Crows seem like the good guys, when this is a fucked up organization who've done and are probably still doing fucked up things?"

I think it's fair to think that BioWare should have shown more of the different sides of the Crows. But I personally don't mind this because to me it makes sense contextually.

Example: in DA:O all we knew about Tevinter that they are the evil blood mages from the evil blood mage country. In DA2 we met Fenris and this point of view was strengthened and it wasn't just a random stereotype anymore, because we've heard from Fenris what they were like. We've seen the effects of their action on Fenris. And we got to meet some of the evil tevinter mages personally. So now Tevinter was the evil tevinter blood mage country that we know more horrible details about.

Then in Inquisition we meet Krem, who is an average tevinter person. And of course it's logical that a country cannot be populated solely by evil blood mages, but we've never seen an average tevinter person before who's just like anybody else. And more importantly we met Dorian. Who is nobility. Yet he is not an evil narcissistic blood mage. He is against that. He criticizes his country and his countrymen harshly. But he also loves his country and tells us about its values and beauties. Suddenly Tevinter is not the evil blood mage country. It's more than that. Now we can see a more positive side of it.

In Veilguard we get to see the struggles of average tevinter people and not a lot of narcissistic nobles surrounded by their slaves. But it does makes sense, because all we do is run around Dock Town and these types of nobles will not be waltzing around in those streets. But now we experience what it must be like to live in the country where the narcissistic nobles, the evill blood mages and good hearted revolutionaries fight for power.

So back to the Antivan Crows. In Veilguard their city is occupied by the Antaam. Of course they're gonna fight the invaders. The people of Treviso have different opinions about them in this situation. Some see the Crows as the heroes who fight on their side against their current oppressors, and some actually think that ruled by the qunari might turn out to be a good life. And some of the Crows might care about the people of Treviso, but even if none of them did, they would still fight the Antaam, just like the Thread fights the Venatori in Dock Town. The Antaam took their territory and power. For Rook and the Crows the Antaam is a common enemy, so we automatically see them in a better light. They are allies.

And if we ignore the things that have to do with taking back Treviso, we still don't see the ugly side of the Crows. But who are we meeting? Who are we talking to? We're talking to three Talons, the leaders who want your help in their revolution. They have no reason to tell you fun facts about how they abuse the children they recruit or the adults for that matter. For once they are busy fighting a common enemy instead of each other; that's what they're focused on.

And who joins our team? Antivan Crow royalty. Not just any royalty: the First Talon's personal favorite. I think everyone growing up in the Crows had a fucked up childhood and Lucanis is no exception. But his childhood was way less fucked up - compared to Zevran "son of Nobody" Arainai - because he was privileged af. The possible death of the First Talon's grandsons was propably not a part of their training. Lucanis never had to kill anyone who he didn't think deserved it. Once again probably because he's Caterina's favorite and she knows he likes to take down evil people so she gives him those targets.

So instead of evil tevinter blood mages, the Crows might come across as ruthless heroes of the people. Because we meet them when they are united against Treviso's opressors. We meet the ones who are in charge.and comfortable, the ones who are privileged. And it's fine because we've met Zevran too, who showed us the ugly side of the Crows. And hopefully we'll get to see more sides in the future.

[moonjellysfeast]

My Own Galatea- Crybaby x Top Male Reader

cw; (C/n) is Code name, manipulation, abuse, unethical science, dehumanization, Crybaby is @yanderefarm's character

You were probably too young to be involved in such an experiment, not even proper college age nor finished with your classes. But, you were very advanced in your studies, you were still top of your classes despite moving up several grades when you were younger, and they were getting desperate. You remember sitting in the meeting, this company had really only planned to discuss simple matters as a way of showing you how you were expected to interact once you finished school and they actually hired you. They got caught up in more urgent matters and forgot you bore witness to their panic and desperation until you raised a hand to silence the room and flatly announced.

"I have the darling gene... I could probably further his infection. He'd listen to me, I promise" They weren't happy about it, but they were truly desperate, so you were hired.

You first met him in the facility's basement, he was in a large glass room, a small hole cut into the bullet-proof glass to keep you safe when talking with him. You had several psychology classes and so you felt confident in your scheme to make him obedient.

"Hello" You spoke softly and he turned to you, clearly upset, "It's nice to meet you. Do you have a name?"

He glared at you for a bit before walking towards the hole in the glass and quietly grumbling, "I do... A real one..."

You smiled at him, he was only a year or two younger than you, but you would have to treat him more like a child until he knew you were safe. You approached him, ensuring you looked as confident as you felt, you weren't scared of him and he had no need to fear you yet.

"Give me your name, then. We can't be friends unless you tell me at least that much" Your words were laced with honey, he eyed your sweet smile with suspicion and you watched his eyes shift. He was coming around to the idea.

"Elias... I think... no, I am right... I am named Elias..." Even just at the confusion of his name, his eyes were round and damp. You held back the tug of a grin to give him a gentle smile instead.

"You can call me (Y/n). Elias is a beautiful name. It suits you" He looked at you with awe now, like it was the first compliment he'd ever heard, "You know, the people here call me (C/n), isn't that a funny name? Do they call you something like that?"

"Yes. Crybaby... I don't like it" He'd looked so adorable, crouched on the other side of the glass, confessing his thoughts like deep secrets, and watching you with those wet eyes.

You had been completely correct in your assumption that you could further his infection, when you next saw him, his irises were clear heart shapes and he hopped up to greet you at the glass.

"Good morning, Elias~ You seem energetic" You mused as he fidgeted a bit and nodded. "I'd like to play a game today, if you're up for it"

"A game?" He was clearly wary, surely experiments had been done to him in the form of 'games' previously, but he had to trust you.

"It's like simon says. Do you know that game?" he shook his head slowly, "Well, I'm going to tell you to do things, but I only want you to listen when I call you Crybaby, Ok?"

"Why?" He whined

"Because, It'll be fun. Friends play games all the time and we're friends now! We'll start easy; Crybaby, sit down," He sat with little hesitancy, "Very good. Stand up, Crybaby," He stood, "Elias, please come closer"

He walked toward you and you made quite a show of disappointment, causing him to scramble back into place and apologize, already welling up with tears.

"No, no, it's ok. You forgot the rules. Like I said, we're starting easy so it's not a big issue. Crybaby, come here" He hesitated before scrambling to the glass window, tears streaming down his face already.

The games continued each day, once he was good at listening as crybaby, you started referring to Crybaby and Elias as different people, even giving them rules.

"Crybaby doesn't know my name, you only know me as (C/n), right? You pet his head, watching him nod along to your words. "Who am I?"

"(Y)- no... (C/n)..."

"Good boy, you're really learning. I'm sure Elias would be proud of you as well, Crybaby"

You also had begun entering his cell, he adored when you did and would cling to you until you demanded he stop. With becoming so close to him, you also had to begin enforcing all of your rules more strictly.

"(Y/n) I don't kno-" He crumpled to the floor the moment you hand landed on his cheek.

"That's not what you call me, is it, Crybaby?" You sneered as he cradled his cheek and began to tear up again.

"I'm sorry I'm sorry I'msorry- mhhn, Please don't be mad! (C/n), sir, please!" You placed a hand over his own, silencing him.

"I know you didn't mean it, but we can't have you being bad, can we? No, Crybaby, you have to be a good boy and listen to me. Now, you remember where it is, mark the artery I told you to."

He shakily got up and made an x on the mannequin's neck, precisely where you told him to.

"Good boy" you smiled a bit, " We'll have to work on your crying. as much as your name is apt, no one will like you crying so much when you start to actually work..."

There will be more of this fic but I am stuck.

[ropebunnykant]

god okay. let's get into it. i'm analyzing the boat scene shot by shot. click under the cut for more.

since i first watched the eclipse, i have been utterly in awe of first kanaphan as an actor. his ability to embody his characters is truly a masterclass in acting everytime, and throughout the whole show he has played kant expertly, down to making it clear anyone paying attention when kant is being fake and when he's being real, but god the boat scene. the boat scene is an insane feat and before i say anything about it i need to give first his flowers because holy fucking shit. holy shit. i had chills the whole time i was watching it because his performance was so real and raw and incredible. everything first has done in his portrayal of kant has led to this moment and it's so, so heartbreakingly beautiful.

the scene opens with kant waking up on the boat. he takes it in, the camera pans out to show the audience where is as well, and then we're back on him.

we have kant, waking up. kant, taking it in. and kant, fucking terrified. it all happens so fast but his fear is fucking PALPABLE in this moment.

he's disoriented, he's just woken up from being under sedation, he doesn't know for certain yet who even did this to him or how he got here, but what he knows is he's on a boat in the middle of the ocean and he's fucking terrified. and then he tries to move only to discover his hands are tied!

kant stands up and his breathing is so erratic and he sounds and looks like he's so close to crying, i mean just look at his face here.

it's a little blurry because he's moving, but you can SEE the fear and the panic and the building tears in his eyes.

and the thing that gets me the most is that when bison steps out, kant doesn't even notice him right away. he's in such a state of fear and shock and panic, that he looks back and forth before his eyes even land on bison.

bison is in plain sight, walking toward him with a gun, and kant doesn't even see him at first. that is how fucking scared he is in this moment without even knowing that bison is there.

but then he does see him. and bison is looking at him with such a purposefully blank expression but his eyes are red like he's been crying or he's about to and god, yeah, khaotung deserves his flowers for this scene, too because GOD

that's the face staring kant down when he's at his most terrified. and i think i just have to let the next screenshots speak for themselves because the facial journey kant goes on in the next shot is just. so much

you see kant, just before he registers what's in front of him. you see him realize it's bison. you see him realize bison is pointing a gun at him. like the way his face almost crumples seeing bison but then the fear is back in an instant.

bison looks at him. straightens his head like he's daring kant to speak.

and kant says his name. because what else can he say? he can probably put together himself that bison knows the truth now, so all he can do is try to get bison to calm down, to listen to him, if he can just explain. but the fear and panic are still there, so clearly.

and makes it even more explicitly clear he knows the truth, calls kant a traitor, mocks him about it. but it's also so heartbreaking because it shows how much bison doesn't believe any of it is real anymore. do you still remember my name? the thing you asked me for on our first night that i didn't give you? did you ever actually care what it was, or did you just need it for this too? has it ever mattered to you who i am?

and god this next part. this gives me such fucking chills the most.

you can see the moment kant starts to dissociate. in this two second shot, before the camera goes back to bison, you see kant lose his focus and start to shut down. he's running completely on autopilot, trying to distance himself from where he is and whats happening so he can try to get out of it.

there's still some emotion here, some focus in his eyes as he tries to get bison to calm down and let him explain, but he doesn't look to be as close to tears or as panicked as he was just a second ago.

but bison's not having it. everything out of kant's mouth is bullshit as far as he's concerned because he's been working for the police. why would anything he says now be true, either, especially since bison has a gun pointed at him? he'll just say anything to get out of it, won't he?

and god this next moment is soooo chills inducing too

kant looks around. he settles back. he realizes nothing he can say is gonna work. the camera goes briefly back to bison and then.

there is nothing behind those eyes. it's actually fucking chilling the way you can see how much kant is separating himself from this moment. how completely he is dissociated. everything else he says in this scene, which isn't a lot, is said in a complete deadpan. he is not. even. there.

bison is pointing a gun at him. bison is angry and wants to know who forced him. but kant doesn't flinch. kant's not even looking at him, he's looking through him. he's so subdued and out of it because he has to be. if we talk about fear responses, kant in his most terrified is subject to freezing.

bison looks almost confused here. he doesn't get why kant isn't telling him, why kant is so petrified. it's ironic, really, because bison brought him here on purpose. he knows that kant is scared of the ocean. but i don't think he realized how scared of it he was. how traumatized by it kant was to the point of completely shutting down. to the point that he literally cannot possibly explain himself right now.

unfortunately i've hit image limit, but i still have so much to talk about here, so you can find part two of this post here.

[twistedpink]

“If you, the beastkeeper, do not spread this email to 6 people before the end of supplementary spooky season, the one you love the most dearly will be cursed until the last eve has passed. Ignore at your own risk!“ Spam email aside, you’re not bothering your friends with it even for a joke,, A couple days pass and sure enough, (because isn’t your luck legendary?) your boyfriend is turned into a hideous monster- foretold to stay that way until the winterween season has ended :0 Will he attack you? How can you support him? And most importantly, will the snack stash last long enough to avoid the holiday rush?

Zombie!Ace Trappola

Ace was actually the one to send you the message, (like he doesn’t bother you enough) he thinks people trying to make extra holidays a thing is hilarious! He’ll also use whatever excuse he can to deny that he’s been turned into the dumbest monster there is,, You’re lucky it’s only for a couple days- else he’d start gnawing on you to get his protein in :) The “joking” about eating you was wayyy too soon, so for his last couple hours he’s tied up on the couch to avoid any sneak attacks.. Nothing’ll stop his smart mouth though, and he makes sure you know how much he needs you to come back! Whenever you do show up he says it’s just to change the channel, but his involuntary babbling (both sleep deprived and zombieish) says a different story <3

“babeee,,, C’mere, I won’t eat you. If I wanted to I would’ve, even then my bite’s not too bad.. BOO! Did I spook you??”

Banshee!Cater Diamond

You’d better have experience with subway surfers and stalking magicam, Cater’ll die if you can’t entertain him!! He phases through anything around the house, anytime he talks it’s uncontrollably loud, and he can’t even touch you :( He gets mini premonitions, but it’s not as cool as you’d expect. Since you’re not in danger with modern commodities, he gets visions of who gets canceled next or what’s going bad in the fridge :/ Cater flying around is much better than dealing with a troll- but he’s not happy about the pajamas he “died in”, and will make sure to be more fashionable in bed! <3

“EEEEEEEEEEEEEEE sorry, that pic is cute!! Can you video me again? I know it hasn’t worked yet, just one last try and we’ll take a nap, scout’s honor!”

Ogre!Jack Howl

If you thought Jack was too big before, he gets massive with the curse :0 Poor guy can’t keep up with the height- sheer bulk weighing him down and stopping him from getting his chores done (no matter how careful he is). You eventually resolve to put him on bedrest, but he can’t reach far enough to wash his back anymore, so you’re forced to rinse him off with a warm towel <3 The new mass has definitely affected how he fills his clothes out, and it hurts being so buff :( New stretch marks mar his biceps, and growing pains don’t seem that painful until you remember how bad they were at like fourteen. Massaging the ache from his muscles while you babble about your day’s all he could ask for, and he loves that you take care of him <33

“Oh, you’re running the wash? I’ll finish it, and it’s only right to fix that cabinet you’ve been talking about.. You don’t have to thank me! I know you’d do the same.”

Kelpie!Floyd Leech

Floyd is already unbelievable on his normal setting, but now you trap him in the bathtub?? Blashphemy! Getting a good soak wears his transformation potion down, so now he’s trying to drag you into the tub while being too tall (long??) to fit inside it,, You can hardly tell if the curse even affects him apart from the translucent sheen of his skin and the fact that his impressions are really good now. (He’s tricked you into opening the front door way too many times because he can imitate knocking now) Joking about drowning you is just a normal Floyd activity, but by the second pass of his tail going for your wrist, you decided to wait the curse out from your bedroom.. It’s for the best, but that doesn’t mean your pet kelpie doesn’t get lonely :(

“WAIT! I learned how to do a new noise come backkk :( Fine. Stay away, I don’t want you at my party,, *distant dolphin sounds*”

Werewolf!Epel Felmier

Two words, hell freaking yeah. No matter what you say he’ll take the transformation in stride- nobody else gets to be this manly!! He’s shoving new body hair in your face like a trophy, but you never remembered movie werewolves being so,, Clingy? Epel’s always feining for a scratch behind the ears to keep him in “peak form”, and unlike the other guys he goes out of his way to be in public. The curse gets him high off putting an arm around your waist and nodding at the beastmen he knows.. After his usual 3 hours of messing up the apartment before bed, the insomnia is ruff. Good thing his honey’s there to help him out <3

“I am NOT sum’ mutt >:( Vil’s jus got it in the ol’ melon to keep ma hair tidy, so you’ve gotta help!”

Chupacabra!Lilia Vanrouge

Lilia is obsessed with the little detail that this “blessing” picked him out of all the people in your life, and gets weirdly smug with it,, Nothing about his life changes too much (avoiding the sun and whatnot) but he does get a little “method” with his role as the beast to your beauty <3 A week passes in the blink of an eye, so you’d better treasure your rented monster! He takes every opportunity to nurse the sensitive column of your neck, babbling about some “unique instincts”.. For a month after the curse has subsided, you wake up with fresh bites along any exposed skin- Lilia’s lucky you think he’s so cute, not many would believe his naive act! He capitalizes on his boyfriend privileges, for they are nothing if not special <3

“Ah! You believe I am the night terror? You would blame the one you “love most dearly” for this?? Heinous!”

[frost-queen]

Romancing Mr. Bridgerton (Reader x Benedict Bridgerton)

Requested by: anon Forever tag:@missmelodramatic, @floatlosers, @alex–awesome–22  @merlieve, @queen-of-books, @glimmering-darling-dolly , @denkisclown, @wildiefleur , @meyocoko , @subjecta13-thefangirl , @m-rae23 , @harleyquinnswifeyfrfr , @melsunshine , @panhoeofmanyfandoms , @venomsvl , @the-uncoordinated-house-cat , @rosecentury , @evilcr0ne , @vviolynn , @niktwazny303 , @avada-kedrava-bitch-187, @erikasurfer , @slythetic  , @eliscannotdance, @p0nycurtis

Swallowing nervously, you weren’t sure how much longer you could hold this position. Having sit down for over an hour now. Feeling the sun bath on your face through the window. You needed to move, your body needed to change before you would actually turn into a statue. Taking a deep breath, you went for it. Turning your head towards the sun like a flower would do. Eyes closed to take in the sunlight for you could use all the sun’s blissful energy right now. – “Uh-uhm!” – you heard loud, making you turn your head. Benedict looking past his easel. Gesturing at you to take on your previous position. It made you sigh annoyingly loud to him.

“Are you nearly done?” – you asked with some irritation. Feeling your nose itch, you were even afraid to scratch it. To not ruin his sketch. Benedict came looking past his easel once more, holding his pencil between his fingers. – “You can’t hurry perfection. It takes a lot more time with you. I have to adjust so much to even make this sketch worthy of appeal.” – he replied with a teasing smile. – “Har har.” – you laughed out dryly. If you didn’t know him this well, you would’ve been insulted. Yet it was just his way of teasing. Throwing in sarcastic and laughing comments to make everything lightful.

Benedict focused back his sketch as you sighed again. – “I heard that.” – he spoke from behind his easel, not even bothered to look around. It made you cross your arms annoyed. Thinking half a second about it before setting back in to your position. Benedict appeared once more from the easel, making you throw him a sarcastic smile back. He smiled sarcastically back at you before gesturing at you to turn your head back right. So you did, watching him disappear behind paper once more.

Your gaze looked around the room to occupy yourself. Needing anything to fight this boredom. Gaze gliding to the side seeing one of his paintbrushes on a low cabinet. Pressing your lips together, you had an interesting idea. Remaining still as Benedict’s head popped up once more. Waiting for him to hide behind his paper once more to snatch the paintbrush. You held it underneath your nose, lips puckered up to keep it there. Now you only had to wait for him to look once more.

Benedict looked past his paper to you. Needing to do a double-check, eyelashes blinking rapidly with surprise. You could barely contain your laughter. Catching the paintbrush in your hands once you laughed loud. – “Was I supposed to find that amusing?” – he said making you roll your eyes at him. Having enough of modelling for him, you jumped off the stool. – “I…I wasn’t done yet.” – Benedict called out. You puffed his comment away, coming to take a look at his progress. Your eyes widening. Cheeks bloating up with anger. – “Benedict!” – you shouted loud slapping him hard against his arm.

“Au.” – he chuckled out. You snatched the paper from the easel to show it up more closely to his face.-  “You have been sketching the fruit bowl beside me this entire time while I sat there still!” – you tried really hard not to freak out, wanting to scold him for making you sit so boringly long with not even a single line of you drawn out. Benedict started to laugh as it angered you even more. Slapping your hand against his shoulder numerous times to punish him. Benedict unable to stop laughing.

“Y/n be gentle with him.” – Anthony said, speaking from the door opening. Having heard some commotion whilst passing, unable to resist looking. Looking upon the scenery of you beating his brother up. – “He!” – you called out pointing firm at Benedict to make your statement. Cheeks bloated from frustration. Sucking in the rest of your words for even though you knew Anthony for a long time now, you would not argue with him. You let go of Benedict so he could straighten his jacket. When Anthony walked out, you threw him an irritated glare. He could only smile annoyingly charming back at you. Having his head tilted, you so wanted to punch him again.

You helped Benedict clean up his sketching material. Collecting paintbrushes from all around. Benedict stood with his back to you, humming whilst putting his pencils back into the long wooden box. Biting your lip you weren’t sure how to say this. Express what you had decided a few days ago and had been wanting to tell him ever since. – “I’m going to do something different this season.” – you said out loud.

“Like what change your hair?” – he added a snort to mock you just that little extra. – “No.” – you replied firm, hands resting on your hips. Taking a deep breath, you let your hands fall to your side. – “I’m going to find myself a husband this season.” – you let out without warning. – “What?” – Benedict responded loud, nearly startling with how loud his voice was. – “It is my third season, Ben.” – you explained leaning back against his desk, looking painfully away.

“It’s my third season too.” – he answered with a shrug. – “But you’re a boy!” – you let out, gesturing at him. – “Man.” – he corrected you with a smug smile. – “Boy.” – you corrected, corrected him with a sarcastic smile. – “Clearly nothing is working for me as I don’t have any men falling over me.” – you told him. – “Would hurt their knees.” – he answered by bringing his knee up with a pained expression. Sighing loud, you sometimes found it irritating that when you tried to be serious, he was trying to make everything funny.

Feeling already too irritated that he wouldn’t listen properly to you, you had enough. Waving your hand to dismiss the conversation. Benedict removed himself from against his table, rushing over to you. Grabbing you by the wrist to stop you from charging out. – “Alright, alright I’m listening.” – he said tugging at you to stay put. You gave him a glare to not make fun anymore. He responded by throwing his hands up in defence. You exhaled deep making him look with actual concern at you. Throwing you those sweetfull eyes with slight furrowed brows. Trying to get a grip of your internal emotions.

“I am just hopeless.” – you let out, catching your face with your hands. – “Nah.” – he responded loud making you look between the gaps of your fingers. Hand slowly lowering at his dazzling smile. He came sliding his arm over you. – “You just need someone to teach you to flirt. To woo men.” – he responded giving your cheek a good poke. – “I don’t need to learn flirting!” – you exclaimed, feeling a bit offended. Benedict clicked his tongue. – “Your flirting is as stiff as a broomstick.” – he answered with a laugh.

You rolled your eyes at him, arms crossing. Hating to admit that he was spot on. Your flirting was bad. If it was any good, you would’ve found a match a few seasons ago. – “But do not worry my dear Y/n.” – he began pressing a hand on his chest. – “I will take the hard task on me to do so.” – smiling nobly back at you. You elbowed him back for that slight mockery that he always slipped in. He doubled over, rubbing his chest watching you take your leave.

The weather had settled with a soft warmness. Birds chirping happily up in the air. Waiting at the side of the gravely path. Waiting for perhaps the worst day of your life. – “Good day Y/n.” – Colin greeted you with a nod. You curtsied back at him, getting pulled back up by your arm by his brother Benedict. – “Alright, alright.” – he waved his brother away. Colin blinked confused, turning on his heel to keep up with his other siblings. You looked surprised down feeling him slap a fan against your chest to accept.

“What… what is this for?” – you asked confused examining the fan. – “To begin your first lesson.” – he replied with a teasing smile. Taking you by the arm to lead you in the opposite direction of his siblings. – “What… what do I have to do.” – you asked tapping the fan against your palm. – “You’re a girl. Flutter your eyelashes and wave your fan. Men are simple creatures. They would fall over a pleasing smile easily.” – he told you. – “Alright I’ll show you.” – you paused turning more towards him.

“No, you will show them.” – Benedict pointed at a few men standing underneath a tree. Chattering. – “Absolutely not.”- you let out already turning around to run away. Benedict knew what you were up to. Grabbing you by the shoulders. – “Come on.” – he forced out, pushing you forwards while you kept protesting. Leaning back against his hands so he couldn’t shove you so easily over to them. – “No, Ben please…” – you begged regretting ever asking. – “Don’t be a baby, you are the one that wanted a man.” – he breathed out, pushing you forwards to the men. You stumbled forwards as the men turned their heads curious at you.

“Gentlemen, I believe you are familiar with miss Y/l/n.” – he addressed. The men tipped their hats at you. You only gawked at them, feeling too shy to do anything. It took an elbow nudge from Benedict to get you started. – “What… what splendid weather… is it not.” – you uttered out, flashing your eyelashes perhaps a bit too much and fanning hard. – “Are… are you quite alright miss Y/l/n?” – one of the men asked. You nodded with a hard swallow. Benedict snatched the fan from you, having enough of your tornado wind coming at you. 

Smiling sheepishly and awkwardly back at them. He grabbed you by the shoulder, leading you away from them. – “Sorry.” – you told him, feeling ashamed. Benedict pinched his nose bridge. – “No, no it’s alright.” – he sighed out. – “We’ll just go again.” – he added. – “What?!” – you called out in a panic. Panic that he would endure this agony on you more. – “Just…” – he started snatching the fan out of your hands. – “no more of this.” – you gasped loud when he threw the fan behind him into the lake. Watching it settle on the surface for a moment before the weight of the water drowned it.

He forced you towards two other gentlemen. Introducing you and encouraging you to flirt with them. – “I… I truly like… your… hat.” – you nearly shouted out the word ‘hat’ for you had no other clue than what to compliment him on. Benedict shook his head, rubbing his fingers over his forehead in disappointment. With another embarrassment, he led you away. Forcing you towards new gentlemen for a third time. This time you could barely utter a word. Feeling extremely shy with five men staring back at you. 

Not able to contain the attention. Stuttering and stumbling over your words like a blathering buffoon. You were relieved that Benedict didn’t drag you for a fourth time to any gentlemen. The first day of lessons was already humiliating enough. So humiliating you immediately left for home. Not even taking the time to greet the other Bridgertons. Needing to get out of here as quickly as possible. To lay down on your bed and wallow in self-pity for how terribly right Benedict was. You were awful at flirting.

Loud muttering deafened out as your hearing couldn’t settle on one voice. Blinking almost tiredly as you stood by the buffet. A presence sliding next to you. – “Lesson number two.” – Benedict said, holding two fingers up. Sighing softly, you turned more to him, listening to what he had to say. – “You my terrible flirter.” – he booped your nose with a teasing smile. – “must talk to five men tonight.” – he finished. – “Five?” – you whined out at how difficult he was making it for you. – “Would you like to have seven then?” – he answered with a cheeky smile.

As a response you gave him a shove. – “Oh and I’ll be watching you Y/n.” – he called out as you had already turned half away. – “Like you have anything else to do.” – you muttered under your breath. Leaving to find five hopeless men to chat with. Feeling Benedict’s presence not far away as you ventured from room to room. Stalking you like a hawk. You found your first victim by the drinks. Approaching him fast.

“Good evening my lord.” – you called out, startling the poor man. Making him choke on his drink as the content splashed up in his face. Staring in shock back at him. He wiped his nose dry, coughing loud. – “I’m so sorry my lord.” – you apologized. Feeling too embarrassed to even continue the conversation. You turned on your heel, meeting briefly with Benedict’s confused gaze. Taking a run for it to venture into another room.

Hoping to get rid of the embarrassment you couldn’t seem to shake. You found another seemingly victim, approaching him with more ease. Laid-back to not give him the fright of his life. – “Good evening my lord.” – you started with a curtsy. The man bowed back at you. – “Lord Morrison, I’ve heard you like dogs is that true?” – you asked to stir up a conversation. The man’s expression turned blank. – “My dog recently died.” – he let you know. Lip quivering as he dropped into loud sobs. – “That… that is unfortunate…” – you answered with awkwardness as you had not expected such a reaction from him.

Foolishly you backed away. – “What happened, what did you say to make the poor man cry.” – Benedict spoke, falling in line with you. – “Apparently his dog died.” – you answered. Seeing how Benedict had to press his lips together to not laugh at that. To not laugh at how much of a fool you had made of yourself. – “Must I really continue this?” – you sighed out, not in the mood for it anymore. – “Yes, you must.” – he answered giving you a little shove to get you back on your path.

So you did trying to complete your task before the end of the night. Filling your evening with walking and mustering up the courage to speak to men. Speak with little effects as seemingly all that you said was not pleasing enough for men to make them fall over you. Utterly exhausted you let yourself drop in a chair. Having lost sight of Benedict. Feet hurting from wandering around for hours. If you could, you would flop your shoes off and rub your pained feet for all to see.

“You must be demanding.” – a man’s voice spoke, catching your sudden attention. Turning to look at the voice, you met up with a gentleman standing beside you. – “I beg your pardon?” – you blurted out, caught off guard. He chuckled deeply, hands shyly folded before him. – “I said you must be demanding.” – he repeated himself. Yet it only raised more questions with you to what he was referring to. He noticed the confusion on your face, gesturing at your feet.

“Your feet are in discomfort. It must be from dancing all night.” – he made himself clear. – “That is where you are wrong my lord.” – you replied with a smile. – “Is that so?” – he answered intrigued. You hummed loud, showing him your dance card. Dangling emptily from your wrist with a cord. – “Good gracious!” – he blurted out. – “These men must truly be blind then.” – he added. You fluttered confused with your eyelashes when he took your dance card in his hand. – “To not ask a fine lady as yourself for a dance.” – you watched as he wrote his name down.

You retrieved your hand, admiring the name on your dance card. The first ever name written down. – “If your feet allow you, I would very much like that dance.” – he spoke. You jumped up out of excitement. – “They allow it.” – answering with euphoria. The man laughed at your silliness. Taking your hand to lead you up to the dance floor. Coming to stand before you.

You greeted him before the music started. Violins and cello’s filling the room with their notes. Both of you stepped forwards, meeting there to step back. Stepping forwards once more to change positions, crossing with your backs at each other. Facing each other once more. Meeting again to come nearer with your side at his and back. He took your arms, letting you turn underneath them. When you weren’t facing him, you pressed your lips together to supress a wide smile. Filled with joy that a gentleman was dancing with you.

Benedict had been searching for you. For one moment, he had his attention drawn away. Only to find you nowhere near when he turned back. Now he roamed the halls wonderingly in search of you. Following the strokes of violins and cello’s. Entering one of the big halls. Finding his brother at the side-line. Gently pushing a man out of the way by his shoulder, he made his way over.

“Colin have you seen Y/n?” – he panted out. Colin pointed forwards, making his brother turn his head to look. Eyes widening on spotting you on the dance floor. With another man. Watching you waltz with someone. Turn and press your back against his chest. Compelled to stand at the side-line and watch. Watch one of his closest friends share a dance, with a smile on her face.

“Aren’t you happy.” – Colin said nudging his brother in the side. Benedict smiled forced back at him. Unsure what to feel, but happiness was not the feeling he would describe. Staring unsettling back. Overwhelmed by something he could not name. The only thing that seemed clear was that it disgusted him. That he felt the urge to pull you away. To yell at you to stop for whatever possessed you. Tensing his jaw ever so lightly he wasn’t sure he could supress his expressions. Having a sense of passing out, he took a stumbling step backwards.

“Are you quite alright brother?” – Colin questioned. Benedict swiped his hand across his forehead, feeling that it was sweaty. Not wanting to explain himself to his brother, he took his leave. Disappearing into the crowd in the hopes to drown out the events from just now. Finding his way to the outdoors, the wind gave him a cold shock. Bringing him back to reality. He grabbed on tight to the railing of the balcony. Laughing loud. Laughing at how silly he was being. Silly for actually feeling bothered by it.

Was it not his intention to help you. Was it not why he chose to do so. Laughing even more at himself for being so ridiculous. You were only Y/n. Just Y/n that he had known almost his entire life. So why did it bother him then? After the dance, you searched for Benedict to let him know the great news. To show him your dance card with the man’s name on it. To show him you weren’t a complete failure this season. Yet no matter how thoroughly you searched, you did not find him. You guessed that was the end of his lesson. Returning to your parents afterwards to leave for home.

You stretched yourself out, coming to lay down on the blanket. Staring up at the clear blue skies with a satisfying exhale. – “Lord Kingsley came to my house this morning. He brought flowers for my mama.” – you spoke turning your head to the side. Looking upon Benedict’s face as he laid beside you. He sighed deep, still looking up to the heavens. – “That is what a true gentleman does. Oh and he likes chocolate too, admires poets just like you.” – you nudged Benedict in the side with your elbow.

He barely moved, staring bothered in front of him. He sighed soft, turning his head to you. – “You have been annoyingly charmed by him.” – he let out with a sarcastic smile. It made you click your tongue. Benedict moved his finger up, pressing it against your cheek. Pushing against it, forcing you to tilt your face away from him. He was too bothered to even look upon you. Sighing loud, you were looking back at the clear skies. Curling up a smile. – “Stop it.” – Benedict spoke. – “With what?” – you answered. – “You are thinking of him, stop it.” – he made himself clearer.

You exhaled deep, coming to sit up straight. – “You are no fun.” – you told him. Benedict came up as well, mimicking your words with childish mockery. Leading to you to give him another shove and get up. Taking your leave from him as you didn’t need his mockery today. Benedict sighed disappointed with himself that he had chased you away. That was not his intention. He just couldn’t stop himself from vexing over Lord Kingsley whenever you spoke of him.

Benedict clasped his hands together to rub any dirt off. A shadow falling over him. Blocking out the sun on his back. With furrowed brows, he turned around to look. Only to find lord Kingsley to his annoyance. Benedict got up, collecting the blanket from the ground. – “What do you want?” – he called out bitsy. The lord cleared his throat nervously. – “You are friends with miss Y/n are you not.” – he asked. – “Yes.” – Benedict replied harsh. Ready to take his leave as he could not stand to be in this man’s presence any longer. Yet Lord Kingsley moved to block out his path.

“I… I was wondering if you could assist me in a matter.” – Lord Kingsley asked fumbling with his hands. – “What matter?” – Benedict let out, carrying the blanket under his armpit. – “I…I heard you are exceptionally good with words… I was wondering if you would perhaps guide me into writing a poem for miss Y/n.” – He offered. Practically begged for him to help. Benedict could only stare blankly at him. Needing to process his request till he fully understood it. An immediate response coming out.

“No!” – loud and clear. – “I…I beg your pardon?” – the lord stuttered out, caught back by his harsh response. – “No!”- Benedict repeated, bumping hard against his shoulder. Storming off before he would wrestle the man. His patience had taken a peak as he couldn’t take it anymore. He had one conclusion. He couldn’t stand Lord Kingsley and he couldn’t stand that he was with you. Dropping the blanket with his mother and siblings, he went to search for you. Search for you, for he wanted you to know the truth. Know the truth about Lord Kingsley.

He found you near the woods. Staring mindlessly at the ducks in the lake further away. – “Benedict?” – you called out when he grabbed you roughly by your arm. Pushing you, dragging you away from any meaningless eyes. Forcing you underneath a willow tree away from society’s prying eyes. – “What is going on with you!” – you shouted, forcing your arm free. Benedict was panting. Unable to keep his eyes away from you. – “That man is a fraud!” – he let out, pointing somewhere beside him. – “Wh… who is?” – unsure to who he was referring too.

“Lord Kingsley.” – he spitted out his name with disgust. His reaction made you scoff loud, turning away in utter disbelieve that he would react this childish. – “You simply cannot comprehend that I for once am wanted.” – you told him. Benedict grabbed you firmly by the arm, forcing you to look at him. – “Comprehend? Comprehend? He speaks of poetry yet cannot even fantom himself to utter a single word. To lay down his feelings with compelling words that flutter your heart.” – he exclaimed, eyes scanning yours desperately for understanding.

“Like you?” – you answered a bit rude. Benedict gave your arm another tug, not wanting you to look away. Forcing you to keep your gaze locked. Captured as there was no escape. His eyes staring longingly back at you. – “What is it truly to admire a woman!” – he called out. His words catching you by the throat, making you nearly jump out of your skin. – “To look at her and feel inspiration?” – he added in a more settling tone.

“To delight in her beauty… so much so… that all your defences crumble…” – his eyes venturing down at your lips. Settling there for a moment before he flashed them back up. – “that you would willingly take on any pain… any burden for you.” – he spoke taking a step closer to you. Touching your arm with his hand. – “To honour your being.” – he breathed out. – “With my deeds and words.” -  raising his hand to let his knuckles brush against your cheek. A heavy breath released from your lips, feeling a tug in your chest. Having the need to swallow to dampen the thoughts flashing your mind.

“For that is what a true poet would say.” – he spoke letting his hand rest there. His gaze flashing down to your lips once more. – “For that is what I say to you.” – he corrected himself. Your gaze lowered on his lips as well. Feeling your heart beat loudly in your chest. Relieved that it could not fall out of your chest. – “Ben…” – you whispered out leaning unconsciously closer to him.

Yearning for his lips on yours. Nearly feeling his breath on yours. Benedict allowed his other hand to hold your cheek. Cherishing your face in his palms. – “For you are all my inspiration Y/n.” – he whispered out before closing his eyes. Decreasing the distance between you. Letting his lips find yours. Pressing them gently on yours. Allowing them to settle there for a moment. Retrieving them with a shuddering breath.

Then his lips crashed down on yours once more. Craving more of you than he could ever imagine. Lips kissing you deeper, more rougher as you followed his pace. Grabbing for his back to let your fingers draw deep over his back. Needing him close, closer than he already was. Senses taking over as you became fully blinded by your surroundings. Hand moving to his neck as he deepened the kiss. Panting loud between short releases.

Out of breath, you parted ways. Yet not too far as he allowed his forehead to rest against yours. Panting out a laugh. You smiled back at him, flushed to the bone. He touched your chin with a wide smile before giving you another short kiss. – “I want us to have forever.” – he said. – “Starting from right now.” – you nodded as he took a step back. Taking your hand to lead you out from under the willow tree. For you needn’t be concerned about the season now. For you had romanced yourself a Mr. Bridgerton.

-----------------------------------------

Read more of my fics on my Masterlists!

[456x001]

okay huge essay incoming:

and this is based off a post i saw earlier by my awesome mutual @midnight--sadness (her blog is awesome btw) where she talked about gi hun’s ability to forgive in ho. so i’ll start off by prefacing some of the great points she made about gi hun’s trusting nature and his selfless ability to forgive others:

we’ve seen time and time again how trusting gi hun is even if it’s to a fault. it’s simply in his nature to trust and love and to care about other people in the selfless way he does. given that, i think he could forgive in ho. if he sees in ho actually working to make a change and make things right for the betterment of others that have been wronged by the games (and whether or not in ho will or actually even wants to is what we’ll be getting into later), i believe he can forgive him. despite all the horrible things he’s done, despite the unforgivable, irredeemable mistakes he’s made. he’s more than justified in not forgiving him but i’m just saying he might because if anyone could it’s gi hun. he’s made the point time and time again that he isn’t like the masked men and would never become hateful in the ways they are.

now let’s talk a bit about gi hun’s relationship with young-il. gi hun's worry for young-il during the games is so raw and heartfelt. he’s not just strategizing or playing to survive-he genuinely cares about young-il's well-being, even in a scenario where survival often demands selfishness. his willingness to risk everything to make sure young-il was okay shows how deeply gi hun values connection and loyalty. in ho, as the frontman, watches all of this unfold. seeing how much gi-hun cared for his alter ego “young-il" must have left a mark, even if in ho wouldn't openly admit it.

when the truth comes out that young-il and the frontman are the same person it's going to hit gi hun like a ton of bricks. gi hun will have to reconcile the caring, vulnerable young-il with the cold, calculating frontman. it will once again challenge everything he believes about people and their capacity for change. in ho, for all his control and detachment, won't be immune to this confrontation either. gi hun's unwavering belief in him as young-il could be the thing that cracks his carefully built armor.

this dynamic is so layered with unspoken emotions, unacknowledged bonds, and so much potential for heartbreak and redemption. it’s no wonder they gave us at the edge of our seats. now here’s the crux of the discussion. do we think gi hun’s belief in young-il's goodness, his inherent belief in the goodness of people could be enough to pull in ho back toward redemption?

we don’t know the answer to that yet, but i will say this. we’ve seen the final defying act of the villain sacrificing his life at the end for the greater good many times before. however, redemption doesn't always have to end in self-sacrifice. it could mean in ho finding a way to dismantle the system from the inside or choosing to protect gi hun and others while carving out a new path for himself. gi hun's belief in young-il could serve as a bridge for in ho to reconnect with the part of himself that still values humanity, without needing to face total destruction.

in a show like squid game tragedy feels inevitable but in ho's complexity gives him the potential to break free from that cycle of the self-sacrificial villain. if the writers explore his humanity further, there's room for a story where redemption and survival coexist— where he doesn't have to lose his life to find the good within himself.

it’s okay to hope. even in a world as bleak as squid game. personally, to me that feels a lot more compelling than the trope of self sacrifice that we’ve seen in the past. it gives in ho a chance to truly live with his choices, grow from them, and navigate the complexities of redemption, rather than taking the "easy" way out of a grand gesture. it’s a more challenging story to tell for sure but it would also feel satisfying.

i know it may seem like i’m trying to paint a fairy tale but here’s why i think it could work.

squid game thrives on subverting expectations. taking in ho down a path where he survives, changes, and potentially becomes an ally or disruptor within the system could be far more groundbreaking than another shock-value death. it could challenge the audience to grapple with forgiveness and morality in ways that are more impactful than a tragic ending. gi hun's unwavering hope in humanity could become the key to helping in ho see his own worth and capacity for change. in ho is such a layered character, and his survival would be more shocking in a show as grim as squid game. it would challenge the bleakness and give the story a deep emotional payoff. the shock value of how he survives and redeems himself could carry as much weight as a tragic death.

i really value the complexity and emotional depth in this show gives us in within the narrative and i can’t wait to see how hwang dong-hyuk continues to challenge the bounds of storytelling and reach beyond the obvious in season 3 as he’s done with these past two seasons.

[universalzones]

That man was related to Tangle? Well, Blaze supposed that's where Tangle get's her rather carefree and impulsiveness from, yet it seemed she was more balanced out than him. "You'll have to take Miles at his word seeing as I just met the man moments ago. He seems a bit to eager to step on toes, and perhaps should work on holding his opinion. Despite all that, I sensed he is a kind soul if only a bit, off." The feline felt it was a bit impolite saying that, though he certainly seemed more than a little rough around the edges.

"I think he's more than a bit off. I'm not completely sure what happened in the sewer when we all faced off with Mimic, though I heard he pulled him into some sort of space separate from us to face him head on. Not many in their right mind would fight someone they know is dangerous while also not knowing much about in a one on one fight." Kitsunami supposed Rowan might've been more focused on getting Mimic away from Tangle, though it was still a crazy play.

Belle would look off to the side hearing all the conversation going on and was feeling a bit uncomfortable. The tinkerer dislike hearing other's talk about someone behind their backs, even if she could understand the concerns. It was something her father just taught her was wrong. "Here, I'm all done," the puppet said handing the device back to Miles having finished changing everything she wanted to.

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"Yeah, that's a great plan expect for the fact Jewel is most likely trapped UNDER the rubble. So wise guy, what's flying over it going to do if you can't get me under it?" Surge wasn't in the mood to argue with anyone, let alone someone that she basically told to take a hike. "Unless you can lift up all this rubble by yourself you ain't going to be of much help hurt like that." The tenrec doubts even if the bee was uninjured he couldn't do that.

"Yeah, though you wanna know the difference between you and me? I'm a cybernetic freak who has a rather stupid healing factor and can get back on my feet in a matter of minutes. Even if I don't recover that fast I can still punch someone through a completely solid wall and then be on top of them to punch their face into the ground." It was a blunt and maybe extreme way of putting it, though it's not like she was wrong.

Surge was pumped up with so many cybernetics and enhancements that trying to put her down wasn't going to be easy. Not to mention she wasn't even sure if she could actually kick the bucket anymore, though that was one thing she didn't intend to test. "So, get your ass to the infirmary or I'll drag you there by your antennae."

Vector was crazy worried about Charmy at this point. He knew how gun ho he could be, and he practically thought he was super bee because of his enhance strength. But he was still a kid in Vector's mind and he was super worried he was in trouble. He was glad Espio was going to look for him, and kind of wished he could to. But he felt like one of them should stay here at the command center in case he came back.

" I get it Princess... but my kid is out there and i'm worried bout' im' hard for me to stay calm. I know he's practically grown now but... he's just prone to gettin' himself in trouble...But i'll keep it together no worries... i get we got alot to worry bout besides family..."

Plus after the outbreak, Vector had been more protective since he nearly lost the kid then. He didn't want to lose him now. He was tense and it showed, but also revealed Vector's rather big heart, after all he took Charmy in after his hive shunned him.

Espio was annoyed by Rowan, and his insistence on working alone--- but then he'd be a hypocrite if he said a damn thing. He was no better. and frankly he couldn't sit around much longer either. But hearing Vector so agitated, he thought it was best to stay put sighing and letting Rowan go. He took his position near Vector as a form of comfort, but deep down, he didn't trust Rowan and wasn't sure what to think of him yet.

" Can we trust him? "

Espio asked glancing at Blaze with an unsure stare as Espio was naturally mistrustful. But Miles was quick to quell his worryies as he dug through the presidents social media accounts.

" He's related to Tangle i believe, i already checked his file he seems like a good guy. Just doesn't work well with authority... I think he'll be fine, we should focus on dealing with GUN... guess we have to wait and hope Jewel is ok... but if Charmy was with her i'm sure they are both fine... "

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Charmy buzzed his wings in annoyance at the Tenrec, he had a mission to! wasn't like he was that banged up! He was alot tougher then people gave him credit for. Alot stronger then people realized, after all he could easily haul Vector and Espio around at the same time when he was a kid! now it was childs play! Bee's were strong after all! it was like par for the course for insect mobians!

" yea... sounds cool and all--- or i can fly you over it and avoid the hassle? Look i can haul my 600lb dad around with ease i think i can handle you greenie "

He huffed and crossed his arms though ended up wincing as he touched his bad shoulder. It wasn't broken but was still messed up, and probably needed to be in a sling! But he was a tough kid, and not willing to just abandon his mission cause he took some lumps! Maybe he was being foolish but, he had alot to prove! He was really worried about Jewel!

" Besides! if you were busted up you'd keep going to... so don't give none of that! i can handle myself... you aren't my dads so i'm going along like it or not! "