#anyway when i see this thing i think of the one episode of the anime that i SWEAR exists

[hopefull-mindset]

Hi!! How are you?

What are your thoughts on the komaeda OVA?

Oh my god! I never saw this, my bad. I’ve been doing fine, but the essay is kicking my ass everytime I write at least 4 paragraphs. Komaeda in the OVA…

I love the idea of the OVA, I think it makes a lot of sense that instead of completely going braindead, the Neo World Program (as a therapeutic device) would end up triggering a version of their ideal world to hide away the traumatic experiences they had gone through to support their fragile minds after death. The ambiguity of the ethics to doing so fits the nature of the simulation very well. However, I do wish this topic could be explored outside of just an episode long OVA. It’d be nice if it were a movie or light novel instead. Sad.

(This was getting longer than I thought, more thoughts bellow. Very extensive thoughts on what I didn’t like and what I did.)

I have my problems with the OVA, like what happens after he leaves the pod. It’s very meaningful to me that Komaeda took Hinata’s hand as that’s a first step towards a hopeful future for the both of them, but I’m also a bit iffy on Hinata calling himself both Izuru Kamukura and Hajime Hinata. I understand why he had introduced himself like that as technically “Izuru Kamukura” (the state) is still himself and that’s not going to suddenly go away. It’s said in the ending of sdr2 that he’d choose to live on as Hinata, which is an ambiguous statement on how he currently is mentally, but still somewhat hopeful.

It really would’ve been better if there was no dr3 anime as the point of the ending is that you don’t know if things will truly change for the main cast, but there was still and effort to see it through. Anyway, my main problem with him introducing himself with “Izuru Kamukura” (the identity) is that the point of rejecting it in the first place was the fact this identity is not his own. This identity is the representation of ideals gone bad, HPA’s worst problems bundled up into one person, and Hinata’s own insecurities killing him.

This is why you’re thrown into a trial grounds to shoot down the thoughts and insecurities of a “Izuru Kamukura” who’s just Hinata’s with long hair and red eyes. This had always been himself, but he doesn’t have to be like this. So when he rejected this identity, he had not been rejecting what he had become outside of the simulation (that’s counterproductive), he’s rejecting a future where he still had thoughts like that. He is reclaiming who he was on his own accord. So it’s a little nitpicky of me to say anything since it’s not that big of an issue, but hmm.

Besides the very obvious complaint of the fact that everything is going too fast to actually see proper development, I have two issues with post-simulation Komaeda. The first one is just a problem I have with how they wrote Komaeda in the anime in general. He’s too… open? It’s hard to explain. This isn’t about his honesty. I do love that they made sure to keep Komaeda’s smiling, soft faced character. The dissonance between that and his actions is the point and very important. However, there’s still a problem when he’s a little too expressive with certain emotions.

They get his archetype wrong. I won’t get too into it here because it’s not that important to the OVA, but the point is that you’re always supposed to feel that distance in Komaeda’s emotions and actions. His views are divorced from reality because the material world is not livable for him. He’s stuck in his head and always scared that he’ll just hurt someone when he genuinely starts caring about them. So Komaeda would not at all hug Fuyuhiko and Kazuichi!! It’s honestly questionable why he even did that.

It doesn’t matter that, for whatever reason, he was friends with them in the fake world. Even if he still felt like he had a connection with them (don’t really understand why though, this entire choice was odd because neither of them like him and his emotional attachment to literally any of them is nonexistent compared to how he feels about Hinata), he would never do such a thing so easily. It takes him rationalizing that everything in Island Mode was bad luck just so he could convince himself to ask to be Hinata’s friend.

Even UTDP and DR S gets it more correct with how his relationships with Hinata was formed, but still a bit distant with everyone else. Like he’s more present with class activities, but Kazuichi still comments on how Komaeda talks to them like they aren’t people, but instead just some other version that doesn’t exist. That’s just how Komaeda is. He doesn’t hate his classmates, but he’s always hung up on his ideals first. The whole reason he can make a proper bond with Hinata is because he’s not talented.

This brings me to my second point, and I’ve brought this up before when talking about post-game Komahina. Komaeda would NOT at all act the same as he did in the simulation. Where’s his lost feelings on his ideals slowly crumbling from the inside after seeing the Ultimate Despair still trying their best for their future? Where’s his even harsher emotional distance to everyone else? Komaeda would never praise them for their talents, having used them for despair.

Like maybe Servant would, the car crash version of Komaeda. Komaeda in despair is a total mess, visibly confusing himself in his conversation with Izuru Kamukura. That guy would totally say that symbols of hope using their abilities to cause despair will only lead to the brightest hope of all. He’s probably so funny when he interacts with other Ultimate Despair, I wish we got to see more of him. Insulting them and praising them in the same breath.

But usually when people depict post-game content, the simulation events get put to forefront first in how they act instead of completely resembling who they were pre-game. A reading that Komaeda is acting the same he usually would because he refuses to pick apart his world view is fine because that is how Komaeda can be. He wouldn’t just let go of them entirely, it’s his lifeline. He can only accommodate it.

But, here’s my problem with the OVA. If he’s getting on that boat, then it must mean that he’s accepting a path similar to Hinata. To want and expect a future for himself is a huge jump for Komaeda’s development. Again, this is a bit nitpicky, but Komaeda should be showing more resistance. This keeps coming back to my problems with who’s writing this story and the time limit on what they could do with this story. I should stop talking about this minimal stuff.

Onto actual content from the fake world hahah. I don’t have much to criticize with this because it’s just a rendition of what Komaeda thinks would be an ideal world. One where everyone is happy while he still gets punished by bad luck for just being Komaeda. His self hatred runs deep as someone who considers himself a source of despair just by existing. Other people make a good point about how his luck in the fake world doesn’t affect other people, but it makes you wonder if Komaeda unconsciously still thinks his parents are dead in this world.

Komaeda’s “ideal world”… how ideal is it? He’s friends with his classmates, but he still thinks of himself as a background character. Again, it goes back to Komaeda’s psychology and his worldview being on the bigger picture rather than the individual. Komaeda is still Komaeda after all, even when he shows a side of himself that hates talent. It’s an unconscious thought he thinks is nothing like himself, but deep down under Komaeda false ideal that even he believes in, I’m sure that he has resentments against what he believes in being absolute truth.

Out of everything the anime has done with Komaeda, this is the most correct one and plausible path to explore when it comes to Komaeda’s psyche that he shoves deep down. I think of it as a play on Hinata’s question about what he would do if he lived in a world with no despair and hope in FTE. Komaeda’s reaction to it fascinates me so much?? I don’t think he’s ever entertain the idea because he can’t imagine a world where his luck doesn’t exist and doesn’t have to experience total extremes at all times.

His reaction is so…. neutral. There’s nothing positive or negative he expresses against this question. Like he’s responding to a hypothetical that has nothing to do with him. But, I’m sure somewhere inside of him, this question would tear him apart. Is he jealous of normal people? Is he jealous their supposed ignorance and false confidence that they can be someone? Does he hate them because of envy, deep down? Or like this OVA is saying, does Komaeda hate talent as a source of a horrible issue that makes it so the individual can never be happy no matter which one they are?

Of course, his unconscious feelings in talent have to do with his feelings on his own talent causing him as much distress as it does others. I don’t think Komaeda genuinely hates normal people or ever has. The way he talks about them has to do with viewing their collective worthlessness to society as fact. It is interesting though to pick at some of those thoughts Komaeda might be having if he hadn’t brainwashed himself so thoroughly. Him reacting horribly to the flashing thoughts of the game was so scrumptious.

The only other part to comment on is World Ender, the coolest concept ever that existed for so little time. I’m exaggerating, but analysis-wise he’s sooo good. A break in Komaeda’s ideal world thats destroying his illusion being a Hajime similar to how he looked when he chose a future Komaeda never did, just to get him to come with him on their path? kyaaa!!! So cool!!

Like I do think the way World Ender does it is a bit too abrupt and I still think his character could be perfected to be even more with how he destroys the illusion for Komaeda (it could even be called too cruel), but then I might as well just rewrite the OVA hahah. For what he’s worth as is, the abruptness is just like how Hinata feels to Komaeda. Imagine meeting a guy that cuts through everything you believe in, makes using your ideal system on him hard, and even after finding out the worst news in the world, you’re confused as to why you still care for him…

Alright, no more talking. I have nothing else to say right now about the OVA. So all in all, I like the idea of the OVA, but I can get nitpicky about things that don’t line up with Komaeda’s initial characterization. I don’t think the fake world needs much criticism because it’s just a conceptualization, but… I would’ve loved to do more with the whole idea.

[front-facing-pokemon]

[luna-the-cretar]

I will never not love Sarnax taking phrases too literally. Especially since it usually involves him trying to be helpful, and not understanding that it’s just a phrase

Like Victoria mentioning the phrase “catch more flies with honey than vinegar”, and this man was SO ready to give Victoria tips on how to actually catch flies. I just. I can’t. I love him so much.

It’s like Shepherd keeps saying, Sarnax is a little rough around the edges but he means well.

[haru-chi]

Now that Miharu's arc is done and I gathered my thoughts and my strength, I feel like talking now for a bit ...

-contain manga spoilers-

Firstly, what the anime has done wasn't so bad at all, in fact I think they did the best they can without changing much which's I'm kinda surprised with for this season overall, it has the least changes out of all seasons so far (?), even the production value is far better than the last two season which was something I worried about tbh yet was pleased in general despite few little things 👀

With that being said and out of the way .. what come next isn't "hate" at all, so don't mistake it so :)

I found the anime version just lacking something .... it just didn't feel the same for some reason ... maybe the perfect word I find to describe what I feel is "detachment" ?

I don't know, was it because they simplify things which made things lose its gravity? Was it because they omit certain lines which had moved me the most in the manga ? Or was it that their interpretation of certain scenes was different than the manga vibe I got ? or they put emphasize on not what I thought they should've been ?

It's like, I felt Seiji/Miharu's burden, longing, wishes didn't hit that heavily ? Even Natori's inner struggle and action ... It's like I'm detached in certain way from their emotions which I don't even know if that's the perfect word to use but can't find a better word for what I felt ...

Hmmmmm, it's like, in the anime you feel like an outsider watching those people's story and struggles while in the manga you're an insider seeing all of this firsthand because of those little details etc thus you'd feel/understand it all better >>> don't know if this is a perfect example ><

I wondered if this was because they didn't do an extended hand before it, but as a manga reader this doesn't matter much for me so that's not it ...

But then I realized that this actually an on-going anime issue I always noticed and felt ... I even experience it firsthand being an anime-only way back then in the distant past ....

I feel the anime treat Natsuyuu's stories as standalone more than they should .. like aside from big arcs (mostly exorcist) then it doesn't matter what order everything else goes to ..maybe most fans think so too .. they don't realize that there IS a seamless story-flow under it all .. not all story follows it yet most stories can rely on it for building up be it on-going issues or questions and answers around it be it indirectly or directly (take an extended hand and Miharu's stories for example)

I was under this same misconception too back then, which's why when I jumped to the manga I was shocked by its depth and way of storytelling that genteelly indirectly connect most of its stories, which's why it resulted in Natsume's growth ...

His growth wasn't because of that certain story you just noticed it in it but was a result of the small ones before it which you thought was unrelated yet in fact it was a build-up and added depth to his character (maybe I'll talk in depth about it in different post?)

What I'm trying to say is, most story's order is important than some people think, and Midorikawa pay close attention to that and it's part of her storytelling and style which I really admire and love ... how there is an unspoken rule or something that put into attention few details or add more depth to the world/characters without directly saying so and that easily to miss ....

Do you remember how Homura's arc was something she wanted to do from early on yet because Natsume wasn't ready so she withhold for a very long time ... or how she didn't reveal Seiji had a sister before revealing that Taki had a brother (Seiji's sister arc was the next vol from Taki's brother reveal if no one noticed btw which's something I love and always wanted to mention and talk about)

That's why I said the anime treat Natsuyuu's stories as standalone more than they should and alot of things can gets lost ....

Miharu's arc didn't happen until an extended hand story happened before it .... and those stories are too important to each other ...but since I talked about this in a different post, I won't go about why that is here...

But this anime mindset results in Miharu going first which even after watching it I still find it a weird decision since there was room to do an extend hand then finish the season with Miharu's arc ....

I'm here thinking how such a simple thing can change your perception of things greatly or how can omitting or putting emphases on certain thing can change your view of them... I find that interesting but in the end that's why because of this the anime can never reach that same depth, that same unspoken indirect beauty ....

I really wonder why ? I feel like they had an idea or certain view about Natsuyuu which isn't wrong per say but can be harmful or a hindrance in the long run ?

Miharu's arc in the anime had me just setting here thinking and trying to understand why I find it lacking or feel this detachment and absent of gravity or weight from it that I felt in the manga ....

I'll stop here, it just I don't get it and kinda feel disappointed ? Sad ? Tbh I really don't know what I should be feeling other than I wanted something more for one of my best arc, it wasn't the worst yet wasn't that great either :)

[sskk-manifesto]

Ep 5!!!

[softservesoymilk]

Wow I love asshole gay people (things have ALIGNED in the ASTRAL PLANE and Pav is WATCHING SOMETHING?? 🤯)

[burymagdalene]

Crazy Little Thing Cold Love - S. Reid x Reader

Where the fierce cold brought by their holiday with the team to a ski lodge leads reader and Spencer to seek warmth in more ways than one in their room. Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!reader Genre: Fluff and Smut (18+ pls pls) tags: softdom!Spence, fingersucking, dry humping, lots of messy kissing, fingering, oral (fem receiving), handjob, piv sex, overstimulation (I can’t help it), praise, fluff, of course, they love each other big time! wc: 6.1k. a/n: I genuinely did not think more than 20 people would read my last (first) fic, I was smiling ear to ear and stalked everyone who liked it basically. I hope this isn’t too long. I don’t know what the fic length sweet spot is. Anyway, I was imagining our pretty boy in the Alaska episode 5x21 while writing this. MERRY CHRISTMAS YA FILTHY ANIMAL

Despite not knowing how to ski, when Spencer invited you to join him and his team for a quick holiday to a ski lodge in Colorado, you nearly melted in excitement. 

You’re over at Spencer’s apartment, bag readily in hand, watching him try to find outfits for this occasion. “Well.. I’m not going to be skiing, so I think regular clothes will be fine, hm?”

“Just bring a couple sweaters or something, that’s what I did. And a swimsuit.” You comment as you lay on your stomach on his bed, scrolling through your phone. Spencer takes his head out of his closet to spin and look at you.

“I didn’t even think about that. Of course. Thank you.” He mumbles and walks to his dresser, unsure if he even has swim trunks here. In his bottom drawer he digs through ridiculous ties and socks he’s forgotten about and begrudgingly finds the only swim trunks he had since highschool.

You scoot your body towards the end of his bed, leaning your head over to look at the way-too-short purple swim trunks he’s holding up with an unmistakably gloom look on his face. “Oh… you have to try those on. Right now.” You request through giggles. 

Spencer stands up slowly placing the trunks in front of the trousers on his legs to see how the size difference from a pre-pubescent Spencer contrasts to now. How badly he’s about to be humiliated in front of his coworkers. 

It’s nothing too horrifying, just blatantly un-Spencer in a way that has you both laughing at the ridiculousness of it. Seeing your boyfriend in short shorts has yet to occur! Regardless, Spencer slips off his slacks and pulls the shorts over his legs, jumping to put pants on for the first time in his life.

Spencer does not look bad. The shorts are too high up, he has probably grown about 6 inches since he picked these out. The tag is still on, he’s never even worn them. They sit nicely fitted on his upper thighs and he has his hands covering his face laughing as he shows you. In an over exaggerated manly voice you laugh out a “do a little spin for me hot stuff” at a groaning Spencer.  

“Babe,” Spencer laughs “I cannot be seen in these. In front of my highly respected team as well. In front of… Morgan.” He begins to take them off and throws them into his duffle bag anyway. 

“Noooo you gotta. Plus it’ll probably be just the two of us in the hot tub or whatever at a time. We’re not all going to be sitting in it together. At least I hope not…” You giggle a bit at the image. You have to give Spencer props though, him a few years ago would’ve cancelled his RSVP or purposefully left the swimsuit at home leaving him to a trip of staying in a random log cabin reading. 

It’s not for a case, so the team does not have access to their own plane, making it so that you and Spencer are doomed to wake up at 5am to meet everybody at the airport. You give out multiple sleepy sidehugs, unable to believe how equipped everyone is at waking up at unbearable hours. With this though you are able to sleep through the flight from D.C. to Colorado just fine using Spencer as your pillow. 

The ski lodge made you gasp when you arrived. Snow that was not present in D.C. covered every inch of the area; two levels of wooden panels lead to a huge snow slope behind the lodge. Through many “ooh’s” and “aah’s” it was finally revealed that only Rossi, Hotch, and JJ knew how to ski. Though, Emily and Morgan were equally as interested in learning from the best. This left you, Garcia, and Spencer to inside activities; watching your friends ski, groaning at lack of cell service (Garcia), reading, and the wonderfully heated pool and hottub that rested on the porch overlooking the slope. This, of course, made everyone squeal. 

Rooms were doubled up and you and Spencer unpacked your bags chatting with Morgan who was leaning against the doorway regarding ski tricks.

“If you’re so uncoordinated and haven't touched a slope in your life, why would you care about how skiing can aid astronauts mobility?” Morgan questioned Spencer's rambling about astronauts who have experience with skiing and had an easier time walking on the moon. 

“Well I’m not walking on the moon anytime soon either I just think it’s fascinating that cross country skiing-”

“What is that?” Morgan interrupts Spencer when a sweater covering his trunks in his bag gets put away, revealing the tiny purple fabric. You start giggling as Spencer sighs. Morgan walks into the room and picks them up from his bag. “What does this sweet girl have you wearing for her, Reid?” He teases.

Spencer definitely grabs them from his hands “Nothing! I got them when I was in highschool, I don’t go swimming a lot.” He sighs and looks down at you shaking his head as if to say “what did I say?” without speaking. 

Morgan relents seeing Spencer's face redden a bit. “Ah, pretty boy, well, this look might be good for you, I can’t wait.” He exits laughing after ruffling Spencer's hair. 

Spencer plops down on the bed next to you, scooping you in his arms. “This better be the most heavenly hot tub I’ll ever experience…” he sighs into your neck. You wrap your arms around him too, running your nails softly over his back and whisper back “Oh stop. You deserve a break, it will be.”

Later that day after playing a few rounds of Spades, everyone decides it's time to face the cold, put on gear and ski. Or watch them from the patio. It’s amusing even though you have no concept of how they’re going down with such elegance. It almost looks too easy for them. You have two sweaters on and a ski coat. Apparently, coming out with one sweater and a coat was so offensive to Spencer that he made you tack on another layer. “You’re the coldest person I know, please add another, baby”. Spencer, who was bundled up himself, pleaded as you spun around on your heels to redress yourself without protest because you know he’s right. 

With your chin tucked into your hands, pressed between Penelope and Spencer, you all take on the roles of pseudo-Olympic commentators to pass the time. The horrible butchered transatlantic accent coming from you all worsened by the warmed eggnog held between cold palms. Spencer eagerly grins as he sees Morgan stumble a bit in his boots, “Yikes, not a good start for Morgan, whose first Olympics is this year. Now wait, wait, it is down to the wire but…YES, it looks like Morgan has gone for the gold and succeeded. Such a momentous moment in the young athletes career-”

Penelope slaps Spencer's arm, doubled over laughing at the fake news anchor voice he has adapted for this role he has put on. “Stop, stop, he’s going to get mad at you!” You all wipe the smiles off your faces and put on fake serious ones as Morgan trudges back up the slope, looking more suspicious than if you had just kept laughing. He shakes his head in disappointment towards the three of you.

All sort of tipsy and numb from the cold decide to go back inside. The rigorous ski activities today coupled with the early morning, causes the rest of the team to head to bed early. You and Spencer run towards your room at the same time, pushing past each other in the door frame as you try to stumble into warmth. 

You slide your coat off and plummet to the ground to turn on the space heater with a speed as though it was a bomb you had 3 seconds left to disarm. You put your hands near it to warm them, looking up from the floor to Spencer who is smiling down at you from the bed. He silently motions with his head for you to sit over by him.

Whining and pulling yourself away from the heater, you get up and stand between Spencer's slightly open legs. He places his arms behind him and slouches back on his palms to get a better look at your face from where you’re standing. He tilts his head innocently to the side and squints at you. “Is somebody too cold? I would’ve never guessed that…” 

Scoffing and pulling your arms around yourself to conserve heat you mumble back “Noooo… I mean. Just my hands. Hah, they feel like they’re made out of molasses.” Spencer gives a mocking sort of pitied smile up at you, which you ignore by the good graces in your heart. He shifts his weight back onto one hand and slips one of his chilled palms up the front of your sweater to your waist. You wince at the juxtaposition between your flushed skin under your layers and his icy hand. 

You grab his wrist from under your sweater with an icier hand. “Don’t… torture me.” You beg at him. He furrows his eyes together and pouts, as if the idea of removing his hand from the curve of your waist would drain all the blood from his veins. Spencer hums and takes it off anyway, sitting up straight and taking both of your wrists into his hands, placing them together so he can cover your hands with his, moving back and forth to spark some friction into them.

The heat starts quickly from your fingertips to your wrists and you hum in content. Spencer whispers a “Yeah, you’re okay,” in response. “Your hands are freezing, I’m sorry angel.” Very malleable from the sweet heat you’re finally getting, Spencer continues to move your hands so that your palms are facing his face now. He kisses your fingertips softly, the warmth from his mouth makes you let out an almost silent moan. 

“S’that nice?” He looks up into your eyes, you still standing there like if you moved all the heat you’ve accumulated on this spot of the floor would vanish. You nod breathlessly. Spencer smiles at your response, not wanting to tease you further, preferring the flush in your cheeks his warmth is supplying you over his taunting. He begins to press more soft, slow kisses over your fingertips, moving your hands at his will by your wrists. 

Then there is a progression to open mouth kisses on your palms, he bends your hands down to kiss over each of your knuckles, eyelids open and trained on your face. Spencer rubs his cheek on the back of your hands and moves them again so the sensitive skin of your inner forearms are facing him. Rolling up each sleeve of your sweater, he coos at the goosebumps that raise from the air on your newly exposed skin. The kisses start from your wrists up to the crux of your inner elbow. You get a second round of goosebumps from a different source now.

You let out a rush of air at the sensitivity picking up on your arms from his mouth, from the cold. Spencer places one last kiss on your arm and nips the inside of the sensitive skin there. At this you can only make a pinched face and mutter out a simple, “Spence.”

He can’t help but grin at your placidity, he’s used to your sharp tongue, but this evening you’re nothing but soft sounds and looks. Your goosebumps soon fade as he rubs your arms up and down a few times and slides each of your sleeves back to their rightful places. “Warm?” He questions finally.

Truthfully, the space heater has kicked up enough that you don’t feel like your life's on the line anymore and you on the outside are just as warm and fuzzy as you are feeling on the inside. Still, being doted on is never something you would allow to run short if you have any say in it. “Mmm… my fingers just can’t. Get warm?” You don’t even believe yourself.

Spencer decides to take pity on you anyway through the “woe is me” act you’re executing poorly. “Ahh. Pesky things. Let me try something.” Spencer picks up your right hand again with the delicacy of picking up a butterfly and places your fingers against his lips again. This time though as he’s looking up at you and cupping your hand with both of his, he positions your middle and ring finger down so that they’re the only two pressed against his lips.

Starting off, he kisses them like before, sickly sweet, only with your warmth in mind, then ups his ante a bit. With a small parting of lips, Spencer's tongue tentatively pokes out around the fingers. He’s testing the waters. Easily, you give an eager nod of approval. 

Another hum falls from Spencer's lips as he takes your two fingers, to the second knuckle, deeper into his mouth. Sucking your fingers now and staring up at you, you shuffle yourself closer to him, straddling his legs and resting your other hand against his shoulder for purchase.

Spencer’s hands slip from yours and find a place under your sweater again, and this time you let him with no complaints. You take your hand from his shoulder and cup his jaw gently with it, guiding his head back slowly, allowing him to take in more of your fingers. Spencer sucks them gently and moans around them when your fingers grip his jaw a bit too hard. You drop the hand that’s grabbing him. One has to be careful not to bruise the jaw that’s sucking their fingers. Something like that.

Letting go with a gentle pop, Spencer takes a breath of air and pushes his face up to meet yours in a wet kiss. Your wet fingers cup his face as he takes your bottom lip between his teeth and tugs. 

“Mmpf-” You groan, pain spreading lightly in your mouth now. You briefly think of your first kiss, how feather-light it was that you hardly even felt him there with how tentative he was. After all this time you’ve enabled this boyfriend of yours to use his teeth to nip you like a territorial kitten who is privy to love biting. 

With an open mouth you kiss him hard in a rebuttal that has him smiling against your lips. “Hmm, don’t groan, you’re not going to break,” he wraps his arms around you fully, moving his mouth to your ear now, “helpless little lamb-” his voice gentle despite his mocking candace. 

You don’t feel like baring your teeth, fully satisfied with allowing Spencer to push your buttons until he inevitably notices your novel docility and rewards you for it. You know him like the back of your hand. 

Wrapped in his embrace and legs open over top of him there’s an instinctual need in your brain needing you to grind down on him and a more voluntary decision bred from embarrassment that is saying too soon too soon. In the crossfire of these conflicted thoughts your thighs concoct an awkward shaky squeeze motion and immediately lift up from him. 

“Going somewhere?” Spencer says in a pretend-serious tone before snickering at you once you silently sit back down on him. He understands you just as well as you do him and slips the arms that are under your sweater to brace your hips against his. “Is this what you wanted? You can take whatever you want from me.”

Sitting back down to where you were previously on his lap you card your fingers through his hair. “How chivalrous…” you murmur against his lips before you open your mouth to kiss him again. You have learned how to utilize time being spent while kissing Spencer over the course of your relationship. Rather, you have learned how to kiss each other in a way that signals immediately to the other that you’re needing this to progress past dry humping. The way your lips are slotting together and the way he’s pulling on your lips with his is a blaring sign. 

After you let out a shuddering sigh while pulling away for a breath, Spencer uses this opportunity to usher you so that your back is flat against the bed and he’s resting his arms around your head on top of you. With one of his hands against your cheek and the other caging your head in you easily slip back into the version of yourselves that tremble with need, this desperation not well suited for either of you. Intolerable.

Spencer’s thigh is regrettably too far away for you to grind yourself against and in order to shake the throbbing at your center you wordlessly take his hand by your face and bring it down over your jeans. He takes the hint immediately cupping you so you can grind against his hand through the thick fabric. 

He likes to pull away for this part. Spencer stops kissing you so that while he’s rubbing your clit through your pants he can hear your unoccupied mouth moaning while he kisses along your jaw and neck. He thinks of it as a cheat code really, he gets to keep kissing your skin while simultaneously hearing your progression from moans caught in your throat to small whines and begs.

Surprisingly, Spencer is the first to break and ask for the fabric barriers to be discarded, which makes you proud because you’re the one who’s the most impacted by your (basically) industrial grade jeans prohibiting you from feeling your boyfriend's fingers against you. 

“Baby, these are killing me,” He’s already moving above you to unbutton your jeans and shimmy them down to around and off your ankles. “I promise I’ll keep you warm.” In all honesty you’ve forgotten about the biting wind outside and the slopes of snow toppling over, but you appreciate the sentiment regardless. The idea that being cold will genuinely stop you from having him inside you right now is laughable.

You sit up and take off your sweater and undershirt as Spencer is working on your lower half. Working as in mouthing over your cunt through your panties as you struggle to unhook your bra at the visual.

Your legs are parted, thick white socks still up to your shins, and once Spencer threw your jeans to the ground he laid between your legs to kiss and lick over your panties. You keep fumbling with the clasp whenever he sucks or kisses over your clit. Not the most efficient moment of your life. “J-Jesus, I can’t get this off.” You huff and break him out of his pussy-induced stupor. 

Spencer comes up from between your legs and shuffles over and unclasps your bra with such elegance that you can’t even comment on it because you know he’s boasting over it in his head. Instead you pull over his sweater and shakily unbutton the top half of his button up shirt while he works on the bottom half. Your hands briefly meet over his middle button and he kisses your forehead with a smile as he pops the last one open for you both. 

His own slacks are thrown off alongside yours on the floor and you both grab at each other to take off one anothers underwear in such an eager manner that you have to laugh at each other for a moment before finally sliding them off. 

Spencer guides your head with his hand behind it as you slowly lay down besides him. Knees propped up and together, he places one of his hands on the outside of your thigh, gently running his fingers tips up and down the skin. “Why don’t you go ahead and open up your legs for me?” He asks between petting your leg.

Now, he must notice that it would be too easy for him to open them for you, like he so naturally comes to do. He’s coaxed your thighs open, held them down from the backside of your knees while you squirm from his lips sucking your clit, pushed them together and to the side when you’re squeezing his sides too tight while he’s fucking you. There is something delightfully humiliating about spreading them open yourself. So eager to display for him the shiny wetness that has been coating you for a demeaning amount of time, like gifting him a bashful merit badge for his effortless work.  

You look up at him through your lashes, his eyes are fixed on the softness of your lower belly, waiting for the moment you start to move so he can see your sex being revealed the instant you do it. Pervert. Taking one of your hands away from the bed you trail it slowly from the bottom of your ribcage to the very part of your stomach that has Spencer transfixed. Teasing yourself and Spencer simultaneously, you push your hand between your closed thighs, still hiding yourself slightly, and dragging up some of the wetness you collected with your first two fingers.

This time your fingers go into your own mouth, sucking off the taste of yourself while you watch Spencer mouth breathe and the tip of his dick start to dribble. Poor thing. “I love you.” He whispers into the air, incentivizing you to just do what you’re told. 

Embarrassment flushes your chest as you part your legs for him, putting both of your arms lazily above your head, finally rewarding him with saying “I love you” back once your thighs are on opposite sides from each other and your pussy is on full display. 

He shuffles closer to you on his knees, arm reaching out to softly run his hand on the inside of your thigh. “Look at you… can I touch?” Spencer’s asking like he doesn’t know if he doesn’t you’ll die.

“I’ll die if you don’t.” He should get where you’re coming from. He smiles meekly to himself, proud, or maybe just plain excited, and spreads apart your lips with his fingers. Your toes curl in on themselves as he slides his middle finger through you, spreading your wetness and mulling your ache. It’s almost too much to watch this near-inspection and you turn your flushed cheeks to the side and look at how his dick is a matching shade of red to your face. You love this part. Tangible evidence to how he feels about you, not that you need any more, but seeing right in your face how being with you makes his thighs tense and cock heavy puts a smile on your face.

With two fingers now he’s collecting the sticky soft wetness that never stops collecting in times like these, and rubbing your clit with them in such a gentle way you scoff out a “Please-”

Immediately he gives in, he’s not a professional at avoiding your begs even when it's looking like he’s going to be in charge. Pressing his fingers harder against you he rubs faster circles onto where you’re pleading for it. “Being so bossy. We haven’t even started.” He quips, trying to gain back some of the fervor he has for being in control, not just sit back, be a good listener, and give give give. 

Your clit throbs helplessly against his fingers. Wanting them harder and faster, wanting them inside you, in your mouth, against your throat, you can’t help but whine at the possibilities montaging in your head. Spencer watches a small dribble of white essence leak from you, mutters a “Jesus” to himself and slides his two fingers off your clit to inside of you. You choke on your moan, not expecting to be so full so quickly, it’s perfect. Spencer isn’t teasingly fucking you with his fingers. He knows how to curl them, he does so. He knows to put his forearm into it in the way that makes you stamp your legs shut. He’s fucking you quickly and easily with them as you bring your hands over your face.

“There, Spence.” You mumble against your hands, biting the skin of your palm to be courteous to everyone else in the house right now.

“I know.” He pushes against that spot in you that’s made you cry and rubs with a pressure made with love. You buck your hips and let him get away with whatever he wants to do with you, but the noise coming from his fingers in you makes you want to float out of your body. 

Brows furrowed and head pressing back against the bed your hips start to twist, with a mind of their own, turning over onto Spencer's hand. This part you can’t control. “Mmm, Spencer. Okay, okay, fuck.” You’re bargaining in your own way, for something neither of you know, but Spencer figures out every time. He slips his fingers out and places them on your clit again. Wet and pruned from being inside of you, he can move fastly against it as you gasp.

“I wish you could see what I see right now. So wet. You’re about to ruin these sheets the first night, baby.” He laughs gently at you. 

“Th-then stop touching me.” You bite back. Immediately scared of the idea of him following through. 

Spencer would literally never do that. He rolls his eyes a bit and furrows his brows at you when you make eye contact. He hums and adds a third finger to rub circles against your clit, two not being enough anymore for a precise massage with how wet you are.

Moving slowly back flat against the bed, your pelvis gives up on trying to crush Spencer’s hand underneath them. When his other hand trails down to fuck you while he rubs your clit you look for a way to thank him without bringing humiliation to yourself for years to come. You feebly grip the base of his dick, palm fairly loose around him as he’s currently milking all of the strength from your limbs. 

Spencer plainly laughs at this, it’s so you. He’s making your brain leak from your ears and you can only pump him lightly a few times. The one instance where you two have tried to 69 this story ended a similar way, with his tongue doing unspeakable things while you can just moan around his dick and wetly kiss it. It’s hard to do things while he’s fucking you. 

You huff, wanting his pretty leaking dick to be getting the same amount of attention as you are. Keeping your one hand on his base to keep it from bobbing, you reach over with your other hand to rub his tip, smear himself all over the sensitive top. He’s stopped laughing now.

“Please don’t make me cum right now.” Spencer pleads softly as he starts to quickly rub your clit from side to side now instead of the circles he was doing before. Fuck, talk about a competition. Your back arches up from the bed as your hand falls limply from where it was on his tip.

Wanting to inform Spencer on how you can’t jerk him off while he’s touching you so he should just start fucking you properly is not a sentence in your capabilities right now so you try your best with a “fuck me fuck me fuck me.” Doesn’t leave much for interpretation.

He slows his fingers and pulls them away with a sad “sorry, angel…” after glancing at your sour face from the lack of stimulation you’re getting now. He slips off the bed entirely to grab a condom from his bag, and throws it on your stomach for you to open after his fingers slip trying to tear the wrapper himself from your wetness still on his fingers. 

Fully situated between your legs again now Spencer looks up at the ceiling briefly while you roll the condom on him as if saying a prayer for composure before he’s inside of you. You can’t help but smile at this as you start to rub him between your legs, grabbing his attention back onto the task at hand.

Whenever Spencer first slides into you, you have to make sure to keep your eyes open to watch his face since he nearly always wears the same angelic face that you never get to see elsewhere. His mouth becomes a small “o”, his eyebrows are furrowed together, but not like he’s squeezing them down, they’re pulled up in a blissed out expression as his eyelids flutter closed. Heavenly.

He’s got one of your thighs in his grasp and he’s pushing it up against your ribs as he begins a steady pace with his hips against yours. There’s strings of your slick attached to his upper thighs from your inner legs rubbing against him. Maybe you are making too much of a mess out of these poor clean sheets.

After his initial haze of trying not to come instantly, Spencer brings back down his right hand to continue flicking your clit back and forth with his wet fingers. You bite down on his shoulder to keep from terrorizing your housemates. Your propped up foot, still covered in your warm socks, thuds softly against his back as the other one grips onto the sheets. 

“Feel nice baby?” Spencer asks into your hair as you bite down onto him.

How he could ask you this is beyond you, though you suppose he’s indirectly asking you to feed into his praise kink. “You feel so perfect Spence,” you whine against him. “unhhh…might be a bit too obsessed with your cock” you slur and laugh a bit at the end, not sure what will do it for him. Nevertheless he lets out a choked whimper and loses his rhythm. Bingo. 

His weight is pushing you down so you can’t wiggle away from any of the stimulation he’s giving you. It accumulates quickly and, just laying there and taking it, you don’t get enough time to warn him you’re close. You weren’t close really, it felt good and then you came. Sucking in air through your teeth your thighs squeeze around Spencer, who is murmuring “oh baby…” into your ear. 

You want to kick him for how good he’s making you feel. It feels unfair and you want to throw a tantrum based on how his fingers are still rubbing your twitching clit and how much you love the feeling of drowning in his pleasure. You’d never throw a tantrum though. Right now, Spencer has caught you in a completely willing mood where you’re closer to proposing to him than anything.

It’s dizzying. Your mouth is wide open in shock as you let him touch you into overstimulation and you don’t even realize it till he lets go of the vice he had on your leg and brings his free hand to put his thumb into your mouth. Latching onto it immediately, you use it as a buffer, a gag, to prevent yourself from making too much noise or mouthing off. You bite down a little on the digit and drool rolls down your lips to your chin. Spencer takes his thumb out, collects it, and pushes it back into your mouth.

Spencer reverts back to rubbing your clit back and forth with his middle and ring finger, losing purchase a few times with how wet you are, but finding his way back to your sweet spot just as quickly. You feel the second orgasm building this time around. Your eyes shoot open, you suck softly on his thumb and he looks back down at you, recognizing the pleading look in your eyes.

“Yeah. Y-yeah, angel. S’a good girl-” he gives his sort of permission and you cum so hard you don’t realize he’s finishing right behind you. 

He’s petting your hair with his hand, both wet from either your cum or your spit and you try to shove that complaint out of your head because of how sweetly he’s moaning above you as he finishes. He’s done cumming but he tends to keep sliding into you after, not ready to give up the whole experience yet. This is when you hear his prettiest sounds.

You cup his cheeks and kiss all over his face and he softly smiles and finally pulls out of you, laying on his back and scooping you on top of him. Tracing a finger over his lips softly you whisper how impossibly good he always makes you feel, how he gets you so wet that you didn’t even know you had that much in you till the tips of his ears go red and he pinches your side. 

“Open for me.” He asks one more time after shaking off the blush that has accumulated from your praises. You smile and open, finally sucking off what’s left of yourself from his fingers. He pops them into his mouth after yours without a second thought and you cannot believe this is the man who gets the heebie jeebies when he has to shake hands with someone new he meets. They should be the ones hesitant to shake his hand with where they have been.

Both feeling ridiculously sticky, you shower together, not even bothering to unpack your toiletries, just using the too-lemony-smelling products the lodge has provided you with for free. Spencer washes your hair for you so you don’t even need to complain to him about how he’s dirtied it and you both trot back over to the bed with fuzzy robes on. 

You cover your face with your hands at the unmistakable wet patches all over the sheets and Spencer collects them quickly and pops them into the washer. 

Exhausted, you both lay side by side on the barren bed as you wait for the sheets to be done. Mumbled against your lips a proposition, “I want to see you in that hot tub.” He clearly feels bad for the goosebumps littering your torso that he’s subconsciously been trying to rub away for the last twenty minutes after you left the heat of the shower. 

Blinking blankly at him for a moment in silence you purse your lips, “I was thinking about the hot tub too.” The thought of removing yourself from the room that has cold leaking back into it from the lack of physical activity now is thrilling.

Spencer laughs and sits up next to you on the bed. “Everyone is so exhausted from waking up early and skiing all day that we will be all alone so I thought now would be a good-”

“Yeah,” you nod your head enthusiastically at him. You can’t remember the last time you were in a hot tub and it sounds like a dream right now. “Let me get my suit.” You both wobbly stand up and you retrieve your swimsuit from the drawer, laughing while you toss Spencer's trunks back at him. He’s so blissed out from the sex that he doesn’t even mention the trunks, he just slips them on and heads out. 

You make Spencer step onto the freezing porch first after you demand him to take the cover off the hot tub for you both, this was his idea after all. Watching from the glass door you blow your breath onto the glass to draw a little heart with an “S” inside of it in the fog. Spencer blows you a kiss in return as he skimpers out in his purple trunks and enormous ski coat.

The alternation between walking out in a swimsuit in that ungodly temperature, into the hot jets of the hot tub feels like whiplash, but once you’re fully submerged you giggle happily and sway your hands under the water.

You and Spencer play footsie under the water like two lovesick teenagers at a pool party as you look off the balcony at the snow. You nudge him under the water a bit before talking,

“Thank you so much for bringing me to this, seriously. I feel like we’re on our honeymoon.” you joke.

Spencer hums and takes your hands into his, rubbing the outside of your hand with his thumb. “Mmm, well on our actual honeymoon I’ll probably have to take you somewhere warm to avoid all this teeth chattering.” He teases back at you, but his words have an underlying sincerity that makes you sink yourself down into the water to your chin with a smile.

“You’re gonna marry meeee,” you respond in a sing-song voice, Spencer grins back for a moment then looks at you and nods earnestly. 

“How could I not?”

[foursidecity]

Anyways I think everyone should go watch win or lose, I feel like 90% of what I'm seeing is posts about how they censored a trans character and 10% of people actually praising the show for what it COULD do with what they are given, im not saying disney didn't do a bad or whatever, but it's one thing to to recognize the failings of a greedy corporate entity, and another to completly ignore and degrade the writers and artist that poured their souls into this series and that character

Here's what DIDNT happen:

-Disney didn't remove the trans plot line because of the election, theyre just like that. Theyve done it before theyll do it again regardless of the political climate, don't blame this on trump, blame it on network execs<<this is a fairly new take and it's so stupid. Animation takes time and the editing was done a year before the show released

-the character is still in the show, and will have her own episode still in the next batch of episodes released, we really don't know much information about her now still, and I'm holding out hope theirs even a small refrence to the original storyboard/script. But really at this point we just don't know how much has changed

-disney stepped in, pixar had nothing to do with the changes, only pointing this out because the writers at pixar obviously wanted this character to happen, but disney didn't want that story to be told on their platform, it's important to. You know, know your enemy and not just point fingers at everyone in the vacinity

-Chanel Stewart voiced Kai and is a trans voice actress, I don't see alot of people mentioning her and you should, she put alot into this character and was obviously really upset when her story was changed

This post isn't about letting disney off the hook, by all means pirate it, I actually encourage you to! But how often do you get an animated show about co-ed sports? That's something in it's own right that I'm amazed they were even able to keep in script, how often do writers get to try to make trans storylines that resonate with and include trans people? Even if it didn't go through, we know about it, talk about it!! Spamming 'fuck disney!!!' Under every pixar post isn't doing anything

[leriexoxo]

Call Me Noona

Sub! Jisung x Dom! Reader

Tags: smut, sub!Jisung, slow teasing, edging, oral (m receiving), power play, light dom!reader, accidental hentai discovery, striptease, friends-to-something-filthier, overstimulation, begging, praise & degradation, desperate needy Han Jisung, soft aftermath, unprotected sex

Word count: 8.3k

Summary: It was supposed to be a normal movie night—until you stumbled across Jisung’s well-hidden hentai stash. He tried to stop you. You watched anyway. And the way he squirmed beside you, all flushed and flustered, calling you noona without even realizing it?Let’s just say… you liked the way he sounded when he begged. Now you can’t stop pushing his buttons—and he can’t stop calling you noona.

This work contains mature themes, MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!!!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You were sprawled across Jisung’s bed like you owned the place, one leg hooked over the other, fingers lazily tapping through his movie folders with the TV screen mirroring everything from his laptop.

“Seriously,” you muttered, eyes squinting at the endless rows of file names. “How do you even have this much downloaded? You single-handedly killed streaming culture.”

Jisung groaned from the floor where he was sitting cross-legged, elbow propped on his knee and cheek squished against his palm. “I like having options, okay? What if the internet goes out one day and I can’t access Crunchyroll?”

You rolled your eyes with a grin. “Yeah, because God forbid you go a day without watching someone scream about friendship mid-fight.”

He smirked at that, but didn’t argue.

You scrolled past a bunch of series titles in Japanese, barely glancing at the years or episode counts. Half of them looked like gibberish. Some had thumbnails, some didn’t. But one caught your eye. Simple title. Clean file. Just one episode.

“Ooh,” you said, clicking before he could react. “This looks artsy.”

“No—wait—no no no not that one—”

Too late.

The screen went black for a second, then faded into the opening shot. Nothing too wild at first. A girl standing in the rain. Very Studio Ghibli vibes. The camera panned up…

Then straight into her cleavage.

You blinked. Jisung scrambled to his feet, tripping over a hoodie on the floor in his rush to get to the laptop.

“I swear I didn’t mean—that folder wasn’t supposed to—just give me a sec—”

You held up a hand, stopping him. “Chill. It’s fine.”

He froze mid-crouch, staring at you like you’d grown three heads. “…Fine?”

You nodded, casually grabbing the popcorn bowl from the nightstand and tossing a few kernels in your mouth. “It’s just cartoon porn, right? You’re not gonna die if I see a titty or two.”

Jisung looked mortified.

The screen lit up with another scene—this time two characters way too close for a casual conversation, rain-soaked clothes clinging to animated skin. The girl made a soft sound as the guy leaned in. A second later, the moaning started.

You didn’t flinch. But you felt Jisung tense beside you.

You smirked a little. “I mean… not bad. Plot’s kind of dramatic, but I get the appeal.”

He was standing rigid, like he was bracing for impact. “We can turn it off. Seriously. It’s not—this isn’t—I didn’t think you’d ever—”

“You’ve watched this whole thing?” you asked, interrupting.

His ears turned red. “…Maybe.”

You tilted your head, giving him a once-over. He wasn’t even looking at the screen anymore—just staring at the carpet, fists clenched at his sides like he was holding back a scream.

Cute.

You patted the spot next to you on the bed. “Come on, Sungie. Sit. We’re already halfway in.”

He looked at you like you’d suggested committing murder. “You’re seriously gonna—?”

“Yup.” You popped the p and smiled. “Don’t be weird about it.”

He hesitated for a beat. Then, like his body was moving against his will, he slowly climbed onto the bed beside you. Not touching. Barely breathing.

You kept your eyes on the screen, but you could feel the heat radiating off him. The occasional twitch of his knee. The way he sucked in a breath every time the moans got louder.

You leaned in just slightly. Close enough to smell his shampoo.

“So… is this your go-to?” you whispered.

Jisung’s breath hitched. “I—uh—w-what do you mean—?”

“You know.” You licked a bit of salt from your thumb. “When you’re in the mood.”

He didn’t answer. Couldn’t. His eyes were wide, locked on the screen, but they weren’t really watching anymore.

And when the next moan hit—a sharp, needy whimper that echoed around the room—you noticed it.

The way his legs shifted. The faint outline beneath his sweats.

Oh.

This was going to be fun.

You didn’t say anything right away. Just let the silence stretch between you, broken only by the slick, wet sounds coming from the TV. The kind that would’ve been embarrassing even in porn—especially in porn—but in animation? It was somehow worse. More exaggerated. Intense in a way that felt… intentional.

Jisung was a statue beside you, barely breathing. One wrong move and he’d probably combust on the spot. He’d pulled a blanket over his lap, which might’ve been subtle if his entire soul wasn’t screaming embarrassment. You caught the way his knuckles tightened on the edge of it every time the moans on-screen got louder.

You glanced sideways, pretending to adjust your seat, and yep—there it was.

The faint twitch of his hips. The way his thighs subtly pressed together.

The way his hand shifted beneath the blanket like he was trying to nudge his hard-on into a less painful position.

Gotcha.

You smirked and leaned back a little, drawing your knees up and wrapping your arms around them, feigning nonchalance. “You know, for someone who begged me to come over and hang out, you’re awfully quiet.”

“I didn’t know you were gonna find that folder,” he muttered, voice tight, ears practically glowing red.

“Mmhmm. But you didn’t stop me either.”

“I tried! You clicked it too fast, noona!”

There it was—noona. Said in that panicked, pitchy whine that made your stomach flutter. A little desperate. A little helpless. You wanted to hear it again.

You grinned. “Okay, so let’s say hypothetically I’m sitting here watching hentai on your bed and your very respectable, totally innocent reason for owning it is… what?”

He groaned. “Don’t do this to me.”

“Do what, Sungie?” you asked sweetly, shifting your legs so one of your feet brushed his ankle.

He tensed.

“I’m just trying to understand,” you went on, voice dropping just slightly, playful but edged with curiosity. “You like this stuff, don’t you?”

“I didn’t mean for you to see it—”

“That’s not what I asked.”

Jisung looked like he wanted to melt through the floor.

His lips parted, but no sound came out. You could see him trying to fight the words—his pride, his shame, the fact that you were watching him crumble one flustered breath at a time.

You let the silence answer for him. Let the soft moans and wet slaps from the screen fill the space between you.

Then, slowly, you leaned forward, propped your elbow on your knee, and rested your chin on your hand—watching him with lazy interest.

“So what do you do when you watch this, when no one’s around?” you asked, voice low and smooth. “Do you jerk off right here in bed?”

He made the tiniest gasp.

Your eyes dropped, just for a second, to where the blanket twitched again. A helpless little shift. Like his cock heard you and flinched.

And god, he was hard. Painfully so, judging by the way his legs clenched when your gaze lingered.

You smiled.

“You’re really not gonna make it through this, are you?”

Jisung’s throat worked around a swallow, and when he finally looked at you—eyes wide, lips parted, hands death-gripping the blanket—you felt the spark of it. Control. A flicker of power. A crack in the tension that made your skin prickle with anticipation.

He was fighting it. So hard. And failing.

Exactly how you liked it.

You could practically feel it pulsing off him now—heat, tension, humiliation thick enough to taste. The moans from the TV were getting louder, wetter, the kind of exaggerated audio that would’ve been funny if not for the way Jisung was visibly suffering beside you.

He was still under the blanket. Still pretending like he was fine. But his chest was rising faster now, his hands clenched in his lap like if he let go for even a second, he’d lose the last thread of his composure.

You tilted your head and smiled sweetly. “So… which part do you usually come to?”

He choked on air.

“I—what—”

“C’mon,” you murmured, nudging his knee with your own. “You’ve obviously watched this before. You know the plot. What’s your favorite scene?”

“I’m not—fuck, I can’t—”

His voice cracked halfway through, and he covered his face with both hands, shaking his head like that would magically make you disappear. But it didn’t. And he didn’t move away. If anything, he was squirming closer, shoulders tight, thighs pressed so close together it looked painful.

You shifted, turning toward him a little, letting your leg brush against his under the blanket. Casual. Gentle. But deliberate.

He jolted.

You leaned in, voice low. “I’ll tell you mine if you tell me yours.”

His fingers peeked down from his face just enough for you to see his wide, glassy eyes. “You—you don’t even like this stuff—”

“I like watching,” you said, gaze dropping again to the subtle, twitchy movement beneath the blanket. “Especially when you get like this.”

He let out a soft, frustrated sound—half breath, half whine—and bit down hard on his bottom lip.

You inched closer, your thigh now fully pressed against his. Your hand slid down to rest just beside his lap—not touching. Just hovering. Your fingers flexed ever so slightly above the blanket, like you might move. Like you could—at any moment.

Jisung stared at your hand like it was a live wire.

“You’re really hard, Sungie,” you whispered. “I didn’t even do anything.”

“That’s the problem,” he whispered back, voice trembling.

You almost moaned at that.

Instead, you let your fingers trail forward—just a little—brushing the edge of the blanket. “You’re throbbing.”

“I know,” he said through gritted teeth, shoulders hunching.

“Do you want me to touch you?”

His head snapped toward you, eyes wide in panic and hope and sheer, desperate disbelief.

But your fingers didn’t move any closer. They stayed right there, just above the spot where you could see him twitching. You could practically feel the heat of him through the fabric.

“Say please,” you whispered, lips curling.

He whimpered.

That tiny, high-pitched, completely involuntary sound that made your stomach drop and your thighs clench.

“Oh my god,” you breathed, grinning. “Did you just whine, baby?”

Jisung’s entire body curled inward. His face was buried in his hands again, voice muffled but still audible. “You’re killing me…”

You leaned closer, lips just inches from his ear. “You’re such a mess. All I did was sit next to you and press play.”

Another whimper. Slightly louder.

You could feel how close he was to breaking. No touching, no kissing, not even a hand under the blanket yet—and he was already leaking, hips twitching like he didn’t know whether to thrust or hide.

God, he was perfect like this.

And you weren’t done yet.

—

You hadn’t even touched him.

That was the part that was really driving him insane.

Your hand was right there, hovering above the blanket like a tease, so close he could feel the air shift every time your fingers moved. And he wanted it—God, he wanted it so bad he couldn’t think straight.

The worst part? You were calm. Like this wasn’t doing anything to you. Like you weren’t fully aware of the absolute meltdown happening next to you.

His hips shifted again—unintentionally, stupidly. A tiny jerk up toward your hand before he caught himself and froze.

You caught it.

You felt it.

And your smile turned downright cruel.

“Aw,” you cooed softly, “Sungie… were you trying to hump my hand?”

He gasped like he’d been slapped. “No! I— I didn’t mean—”

You leaned closer, your breath brushing his ear. “It’s okay. You can. If you want.”

A full-body shudder rippled through him.

“I can’t,” he whispered, and his voice broke like something inside him snapped with it. “I—Noona, I can’t.”

You froze.

Then smiled.

That little “noona” slipped out like a secret—unthinking, accidental, soaked in humiliation. A slip of the tongue wrapped in submission.

He was so far gone.

“I think you can,” you whispered, inching closer. “Or do you need help?”

He whimpered.

You let your fingers dip lower—still not touching, but now brushing the faintest hint of pressure against the blanket. Just enough to make him twitch again, like his cock had a mind of its own.

Jisung made the softest sound you’d ever heard from him. Barely a noise. Just a choked little gasp, like he was trying not to cry.

And then—so quiet you almost missed it:

“Please…”

You blinked.

He said it again, this time louder, voice wrecked and shaking.

“Please.”

Your breath caught.

“Please what, Sungie?”

His hands were fists now, gripping the edge of the blanket so hard his knuckles had gone white. He still couldn’t look at you. Couldn’t say it. Not that part.

But you weren’t letting him off that easy.

“Tell me what you want,” you murmured, fingers grazing the slightest pressure against where you knew he was throbbing. “Use your words, baby.”

He gasped again and shook his head. “I c-can’t.”

“You can,” you said softly, drawing circles with your fingertip on the blanket. “Or I’ll stop.”

His whole body jerked. “No! Don’t—don’t stop—please…”

You smiled. Sweet. Warm. Patient.

Then whispered, “Beg.”

And that was it.

Jisung broke.

“Please touch me,” he gasped, breath hitching between each word like they hurt to say. “Please, I—I’m so hard, I can’t—I need it, noona, please just—just touch me, I’ll be good, I swear, I’ll—fuck, I’ll do anything—”

You could feel it. The way he was straining under the blanket now. He was throbbing.

“God,” you breathed, just watching him fall apart, “you’re so fucking pretty when you beg.”

And he whined. Full-on, breathless, trembling and red-faced.

Completely, deliciously ruined.

“Please,” Jisung whimpered again, the word catching on the edge of a sob. “Please, noona, I’m—I need it, I’m so—fuck—please…”

He was trembling under the blanket now. Shaking like he was on the edge of something he couldn’t crawl down from. Eyes glassy, thighs clenched so tight he was probably cramping. You watched him fall apart and felt your chest swell with it—fondness, lust, power. All tangled together in one hot little knot low in your stomach.

Your voice was barely a whisper. “Okay.”

And then—finally—your hand slipped beneath the blanket.

He gasped.

Not a sharp sound. Not a surprised one.

Soft.

Like relief.

Like he’d been holding his breath for an hour and was only just now allowed to exhale.

You slid your hand over the tent in his sweats, slow and teasing, feeling the heat of him pulse through the fabric. He was hard. Rock hard. And so wet—the front of his pants soaked through with how much he’d been leaking.

You let out a low hum, stroking gently over the damp spot. “Poor thing…”

Jisung made a strangled sound—half cry, half moan—and his hips lifted slightly off the bed. He was trying not to thrust, not to grind into your hand like some desperate little thing, but he couldn’t help it. His body was moving before his mind could stop it.

Your palm pressed a little more firmly.

“You’re dripping through your pants, baby,” you murmured. “You’re really that needy?”

He nodded, frantic, panting against his fist like he was trying to muffle the sounds spilling out of him.

“Look at me,” you said.

He did. Barely. Just a flick of those wide, wet eyes up to yours.

You leaned in, stroked him again—long and slow this time, from base to tip—and whispered, “You’re such a good boy.”

He whined.

The sweetest, softest little noise, punched right from the center of his chest.

“You’re gonna let me take care of you, hmm?” you cooed. “Just relax and let noona touch you. You don’t have to do anything.”

“I’m—I’m gonna come,” he gasped, hips jolting into your palm, “I can’t—I’m gonna—”

“No you’re not,” you said sweetly. “Not yet.”

You pulled your hand back.

He cried.

Not loud—but enough to make your heart stutter. A choked little sound like someone had just pulled the rug out from under him.

“Shh,” you soothed, pressing a kiss to his cheek. “You’re okay. You’re doing so well for me.”

He nodded, trembling. He didn’t even realize his hands had grabbed the hem of your hoodie, clinging to it like a lifeline.

“Breathe, baby,” you whispered. “You’re gonna be good and wait for noona, right?”

Another tiny nod. Barely there.

“Good boy,” you said again, and god, the way he shuddered under your praise made you feel drunk.

You slipped your hand back under the blanket, just resting it there over the soaked spot in his sweats, not moving—just letting him feel you.

“Let’s try again.”

He didn’t speak.

Couldn’t.

Not with your hand cupped over him, warm and steady, applying the faintest pressure to his swollen cock through those soaked-through sweats. He was trembling too hard to move, thighs shaking from holding back, lips parted like he was still trying to beg but the words had been knocked clean out of him.

You dragged your hand in a slow circle, barely pressing—just enough for friction. Just enough to feel him twitch under your palm.

Jisung’s breath stuttered out of him like a sob.

“You’re so sensitive,” you whispered, lips brushing the shell of his ear. “I bet you could come just like this.”

He let out a choked moan, fingers curling tighter in the hem of your hoodie like he was clinging to you to keep from unraveling. His hips rocked into your hand with a slow, broken rhythm—tiny, desperate thrusts, as if he was scared to move too much but couldn’t stop himself either.

You smiled and stroked him a little more firmly. “Do you like it when I touch you like this, Sungie?”

He nodded frantically, whimpering, but you weren’t satisfied.

“I wanna hear it.”

His head dropped back against the pillows, throat tight, chest rising fast. “I— I love it. I—please—noona, it feels so good, I—fuck—”

Your whole body sparked at that.

The way he said your name—noona, in that breathless, broken voice like he was handing you every ounce of control he had left. Just giving it to you, willingly. Needing you to have it.

You rewarded him with a slow, deliberate stroke.

And he gasped.

Not loud. Not sharp. Just a soft, overwhelmed little sound—like relief, like pleasure, like he’d finally been given permission to feel it.

Your fingers slid under the waistband of his sweats, warm skin to skin now, and his body jerked. His cock was soaked at the tip, twitching against your palm as you wrapped your fingers around him for the first time.

He cried out softly, hand flying to cover his mouth.

You kissed the side of his neck, nuzzling into his skin as your hand slowly—cruelly—started to stroke him.

Gentle.

Measured.

Like you had all the time in the world.

“God,” you whispered, “you’re so pretty when you’re falling apart.”

And he was.

He was falling apart—legs shaking, hands trembling, mouth spilling the quietest, neediest little noises as you stroked him slow and wet, letting his pre-cum slick your hand.

He whined again—full-bodied, almost like he was about to cry.

“Please,” he whispered, voice cracking. “Please don’t stop. Please, noona…”

You smiled into his neck, never once speeding up.

“Just a little more,” you said. “Be good and wait for me.”

He sobbed. Nodded. Let you ruin him.

And you kept going.

Just enough to keep him on the edge.

You could feel it in the way he was pulsing against your palm—hot and thick and aching. He was close. So close. And still you kept it slow, your fist sliding along his shaft in long, measured strokes, just enough pressure to make him twitch, just enough rhythm to keep him teetering on the edge.

He was trying so hard to be good.

Trying not to buck up into your hand.

Trying not to sob every time your thumb swirled over the weeping tip of his cock.

You leaned over him, voice low and soft and cruel. “You wanna come?”

“Yes,” he gasped, hips jolting up involuntarily. “Please—please, noona, I need to—”

You cut him off with a sharp squeeze at the base of his cock.

He choked on a moan, thighs shaking beneath you.

“You need to what?” you asked, cocking your head. “You gonna be a good boy and ask me right?”

He nodded so fast it looked like it hurt.

“I want your mouth,” he whispered, voice shredded, “please—please suck me off, noona, I’ll—I’ll be good, I’ll do anything, just—just let me come, please…”

You exhaled slowly through your nose, heat pooling between your thighs at the sheer need in his voice. That desperate, raw edge that made your pulse pound.

“You think you earned it?”

He whined, hands fisting in the blanket now. “Yes—no—I don’t know—I just—please, I want your mouth, I want it so bad—need it—”

You didn’t make him wait anymore.

You slipped down the bed, pulled his sweats down to mid-thigh—and fuck, he was pretty. Red and flushed and dripping, twitching against his stomach like he’d explode if you so much as breathed on him.

And you did.

You leaned in, warm breath ghosting over his soaked tip, and Jisung shuddered so hard the bed shook.

You looked up at him from between his legs. “Gonna be a good boy and come in my mouth?”

He let out a wrecked little sound—half sob, half yes—and nodded again, barely able to hold eye contact.

You licked a slow stripe up the underside of his cock.

He screamed into his hand, trying to muffle it, but the noise still broke out of him, loud and wet and helpless.

You grinned, then finally—finally—wrapped your lips around the head, sucking him in slow and deep.

“Fuck—!” he cried out, body jolting like you’d shocked him.

You moaned around him, letting the vibrations ripple through his cock as you sank lower, swallowing him halfway, then bobbing up to suck just the head, tongue swirling around the slit where he was still leaking for you.

Jisung was gone.

Totally undone.

“Please,” he whimpered, a high, broken cry, “don’t stop—please, noona, I’m gonna—gonna come—”

You looked up at him again, your hand stroking what your mouth couldn’t reach, and gave him the softest, most indulgent look.

“Then come for me,” you whispered around the tip, lips brushing.

And he did.

With a strangled moan and a full-body jerk, Jisung came—hard, hot, all of it spilling onto your tongue as his hips stuttered and his thighs trembled under your hands.

You didn’t stop until he was whimpering, twitching, so sensitive it hurt.

Only then did you pull off slowly, licking your lips with a hum of satisfaction.

“Good boy,” you murmured, crawling back up beside him and cupping his flushed cheek. “You did so well.”

Jisung could barely breathe, eyes dazed and glassy, chest heaving like he’d just run a marathon.

You kissed his temple and smiled.

—

Jisung didn’t come out of his room for hours.

You didn’t bother knocking.

He needed space. Or at least, he thought he did. You’d seen the look in his eyes after he came in your mouth—glassy, overwhelmed, too stunned to speak. And now, judging by the silence down the hall, he was probably wrapped up in a ball of existential dread and leftover arousal, replaying every humiliating little whimper he made with his face buried in his pillow.

Which was fine.

You were in the kitchen, stealing his last packet of ramen.

He could sulk. You weren’t worried.

But Jisung?

Jisung was spiraling.

He’d taken one look at his reflection in the mirror after you left him wrecked on the bed and nearly short-circuited. His mouth had dropped open like he was looking at someone else. Some needy little version of himself who begged, and cried, and humped your hand like a virgin loser with a mouth kink and zero self-respect.

And you’d smiled. The whole time. Like it was cute.

Like he was cute.

It was making him insane.

He hadn’t even meant to say that. Noona. That slipped out like it was embedded in his nervous system. He only ever said it when he was flustered, embarrassed—helpless.

And now you probably knew that.

Now you knew everything.

He paced. Stopped. Paced again.

Then slammed his fist against the wall and groaned.

He had to say something. He couldn’t go back out there and pretend nothing happened. He had to clear the air. Get his dignity back. Reclaim a shred of pride.

He had to man up. So he did.

Sort of.

He came out of his room wearing a hoodie and shorts that hid absolutely nothing. Still red-faced. Still looking like he wanted the floor to swallow him whole.

And you?

You were sitting on his couch, sipping hot broth, completely unbothered.

You looked up when you heard him approach, smiled like you’d just remembered he existed.

“Oh hey. You good? That nap must’ve knocked you out.”

Jisung froze.

“…A nap?”

You slurped your noodles. “Mhm. You were all tuckered out, so I figured I’d let you rest.”

His jaw fell open.

You said it like you hadn’t wrecked him. Like he hadn’t come in your mouth and collapsed into the mattress like a short-circuited robot. Like he hadn’t sobbed into his own hoodie while your hand slowly jerked him off for ten full minutes.

Like that hadn’t happened at all.

You didn’t even look at him differently.

“I—” he started, then shut his mouth.

You turned to glance at him, calm, patient. “You okay?”

He stared.

Then looked away.

Then forced himself to meet your gaze.

“I need to talk to you about what happened.”

You blinked. “Okay.”

“…Earlier.”

“Yeah?”

“When you…” He paused, face reddening instantly, “…you know.”

“I sucked your dick,” you said plainly, watching him with an innocent tilt of your head.

He flinched.

“Oh my god—don’t say it like that.”

You shrugged. “I’m just saying what happened.”

“That’s the problem!” he burst out, hair sticking up like he’d just pulled at it. “You’re so chill about it, and I—” He gestured at himself, vaguely distressed. “I’ve been locked in my room for hours because I literally cannot stop thinking about how pathetic I was.”

“You weren’t pathetic.”

“I begged.”

“And it was hot.”

His mouth opened. Shut. Open again.

You sipped your soup.

“I can’t look at you,” he muttered, dragging a hand over his face.

You gave him a slow, cheeky smile. “But you can call me noona.”

His whole body went still.

You watched it land.

Watched the heat crawl up his neck like wildfire.

“I didn’t— I didn’t mean—” he stammered, ears turning scarlet, “That’s not—I only do that when—”

“When you’re embarrassed?” you offered sweetly.

He groaned, face crumpling into his hands. “Oh my god.”

You scooted closer on the couch, socked foot nudging his thigh. “You were really cute, you know.”

He whimpered.

“I mean it,” you said, softer now. “I liked it. You were so open with me. So honest about what you wanted.”

He peeked out through his fingers, still sulking, still red.

“…You’re not gonna stop messing with me, are you.”

You grinned. “Absolutely not.”

He groaned again—but quieter this time.

And he didn’t move away when you leaned into his side.

—

It’d been days since you touched him.

Days since you had him in your mouth, soaked and shaking, calling you noona like it meant something—like it slipped out from a place so deep he didn’t even realize it was there. You hadn’t brought it up since. Not even once.

But he’d been acting different.

You noticed.

You always noticed.

Jisung had a way of drifting toward you now. Sitting closer than necessary. Hovering in doorways when you were in the kitchen, pretending to be busy while his eyes tracked you from behind his bangs. He hadn’t looked you directly in the face since that night. Couldn’t. But he kept orbiting you like he didn’t know how not to.

And honestly? It was adorable.

So you decided to play with him.

The whole group was over at Chan’s place. A casual hang, nothing special—snacks, games, bodies flopped across beanbags and the floor. You ended up next to Jisung on the couch, thigh pressed to his, just barely.

You didn’t pull away.

He didn’t either.

You kept your voice light, playful, engaged in the group chat as usual. But under the surface, you started your game. Small touches. Innocent, on the surface. A light hand on his wrist when you passed him a drink. A brush of your knee when you shifted. Fingers ghosting over the nape of his neck when you leaned across him for the remote.

He flinched at that one.

You didn’t even look at him.

Just smiled to yourself and kept going.

He wasn’t saying anything—but the way he kept swallowing, the way his thigh twitched under yours, the way he kept adjusting the hem of his hoodie like he needed to hide—oh, he was feeling it.

And he had no idea how obvious he was.

You leaned in close at one point, pretending to inspect his phone screen. “You okay?” you murmured, quiet enough that no one else would hear.

He nodded too quickly.

“Yeah,” he said, voice a little too thin. “Fine.”

“Mmm.” You trailed your fingers down his forearm as you leaned back again. “You seem tense.”

You didn’t miss the way he shifted.

Didn’t miss the way his breath caught.

He didn’t respond.

You turned your attention back to the group.

Let him stew.

A few minutes passed. Jeongin was yelling about Felix stealing his banana in Mario Kart. Jisung hadn’t said a word. You could feel the heat coming off him like a furnace now, his leg trembling ever so slightly where it touched yours.

Then you dropped a piece of popcorn between his legs.

Deliberate.

You reached down to grab it.

Your fingers grazed his inner thigh.

Jisung made a sound. Barely a breath, but enough.

You heard it.

You smiled.

And then—slow, subtle, with only the two of you in on it—you leaned over and whispered, just for him:

“You missed me, didn’t you?”

He didn’t answer. Couldn’t. His face had gone scarlet, ears burning as he shifted slightly away—but not far enough to break contact.

Then, barely audible, like it’d been dragged out of him against his will:

“…Noona.”

You bit back your grin.

Because now you knew.

He wanted more.

And he didn’t even know how to ask for it.

You couldn’t stop the smirk that curled on your lips.

You’d been playing with him all night, and now you were done pretending. You knew what he wanted. You could see it in the way his eyes darted over you when he thought no one was looking. In the way his body tensed whenever you made a move, every touch sending an electric jolt through him that he was too embarrassed to acknowledge.

It was cute, how much power you had over him.

And you weren’t about to let that go.

The game was fun, but it was time to finish what you started.

As the group started to thin out—Felix and Jeongin arguing over who could carry the most snacks, Chan swearing he’d make up for the mess—your eyes never left Jisung. He was still sitting there, but there was a visible tension in his shoulders, a tightness around his jaw like he was holding something in.

You could practically hear his heartbeat.

You stood, casually walking toward him, the edges of your smile curling up with a dark, secret intention. You weren’t sure if he was aware, but his body was already reacting to you, the way his eyes tracked your every move, the way his breath hitched when you came into his space.

“Hey,” you said, voice smooth and innocent. “I need to grab something from my place. You wanna come with me? I’ll give you a ride.”

Jisung blinked, the hesitation flashing in his eyes before he nodded slowly, like he was too lost in his own head to come up with a reason to say no. His throat worked as he swallowed, fighting to control the panic that was starting to edge in. He didn’t want to go, but he couldn’t say no to you. Not anymore.

“Yeah, okay,” he muttered, his voice tight, like he wasn’t sure what he was agreeing to.

You could see the war in his mind. He didn’t know if he should resist. But he wouldn’t. Not when the tension between you both was too thick to ignore.

You led the way out of the apartment, your fingers brushing against his as you reached for your keys, feeling the buzz of anticipation thrumming under your skin.

The ride to your place was quiet, too quiet, but there was an underlying tension that made every second feel thick, drawn out. Jisung sat too stiffly next to you, and you could tell he was fighting himself—his body was practically shivering with need, but his face was doing everything to hold it in.

You pulled into your parking spot, and when you stepped out of the car, you didn’t wait for him. You were already moving, hips swaying in a way you knew drove him crazy.

By the time you reached your front door, you could feel him lingering behind you, his gaze almost burning into your back.

You turned just as you unlocked the door, catching the nervous flicker in his eyes. “You’re not leaving yet, are you?”

His gaze flicked to the ground, avoiding your eyes. “I—I wasn’t planning on it…”

“Good.” You smiled sweetly, opening the door and stepping aside, letting him enter first. “I thought we could have some fun tonight.”

His body tensed the second those words left your lips. You noticed the way his eyes widened, then narrowed as he processed your meaning. He didn’t have to say it, you could feel his reluctance, but you could also feel the way his body wanted to follow.

He took one step inside, then another, and finally, the door clicked shut behind him, leaving the two of you in the silence of your apartment.

You were in front of him in an instant, your fingers catching the hem of his hoodie and tugging it upward. “You look so good when you’re nervous,” you murmured, your lips close to his ear.

He inhaled sharply, unable to fight the shiver that ran down his spine. “Noona,” he whispered, low, his voice breaking with that same nervous energy.

“Shh,” you soothed, almost patronizingly, as you peeled the hoodie off his body, revealing the tight t-shirt underneath. You let your fingertips trail across his skin, watching the way his muscles jumped under your touch, how his breathing quickened with every inch of contact. “You don’t need to be nervous, Jisung. I’m not going to bite… unless you want me to.”

He stuttered, a low sound escaping from his throat that he couldn’t contain, and you could see him unraveling. The distance between you both was closing, every touch sending him closer to the edge of what he could handle.

“You’ve been so good for me,” you cooed, trailing a hand down to rest just above the waistband of his jeans. “And you know what happens when you’re good, right?”

His throat worked again, his fingers twitching as if he wanted to touch you but didn’t have the guts. “What… what happens?”

You didn’t answer with words.

Instead, you moved closer, pressing your body flush against his. His breath hitched as he felt your heat against him, and you took a moment to just bask in the way he was falling apart. He couldn’t even look at you directly anymore—he was too shy, too humiliated by how much he wanted this.

And you? You loved it.

You had the power. You held all the cards.

“Let’s see just how much more you can take tonight.”

The door clicked shut behind you both, and Jisung took a small step back, his fingers nervously twitching by his sides. He didn’t know where to look—anywhere but at you, really. The weight of what had just happened, the pressure of everything building up between you, was almost too much for him to handle. His chest was rising and falling rapidly, his thoughts scattered.

But you weren’t going to let him think.

You watched him, your eyes burning into his as you crossed the room slowly. He flinched slightly when you moved, but you didn’t care. You reached out, trailing a finger down the side of his face, lingering just under his jaw. The touch was soft, teasing, but it made his skin flush, his body already betraying him.

“Can’t believe you just let me lead you all the way here,” you purred, voice low, practically dripping with a dark satisfaction. You didn’t even need to say more for him to understand exactly what you meant.

Jisung opened his mouth, but nothing came out, like his voice had been stolen by the intensity of the moment. His hands fidgeted at his sides, shifting uneasily from one foot to the other.

“You look so cute like this,” you teased, stepping closer. “All flushed and nervous. Don’t tell me you’re scared now, Jisung.”

“I—I’m not scared,” he stammered, but there was no convincing it in his voice. You could see how badly he wanted to take control—how much he craved to prove himself to you, to show you that he was more than just a shy mess.

But you weren’t having any of that.

You closed the gap between you, pushing him lightly against the wall, your body pressing flush against his. He gasped at the sudden proximity, his breath hitching as his hands hovered around your waist, but he never quite touched you. His fingers trembled with restraint, as if he knew better than to act without your permission.

“Please,” he whispered, his voice desperate, but still so soft, so willing to let you lead.

“Please what, Jisung?” you purred, tilting your head, your lips curling into a wicked smile. “Tell me what you want. Tell me how badly you need it.”

His throat tightened, and for a moment, he seemed to freeze, caught between the urge to stay obedient and the overwhelming desire to let it all spill out. His eyes fluttered shut, and he bit his lip like he was fighting a losing battle against his own desperate need.

“Want you,” he finally mumbled, barely audible. “Want you, noona.”

You felt the power surge through you at the sound of him saying it, and you took your time. You didn’t rush it. You leaned in closer, letting your breath brush against his ear, your lips grazing his skin just enough to make him shiver.

“Want me?” you repeated, soft and taunting, as you let your hands slip under his shirt, your fingers dancing across his skin in a way that made his breath catch. “Is that all you want, Jisung? Are you sure?”

He nodded quickly, a sharp, needy sound escaping him as his hands finally, finally found the courage to rest on your hips, pulling you tighter against him. His body was trembling now, like he was losing control, and you could feel how badly he wanted it.

“Please, noona,” he begged again, his voice low, strained with the weight of his need. “Don’t tease me.”

But you didn’t care about his pleas. You could see the way his eyes darkened as he struggled, still too shy to take the next step but wanting to. He was so damn desperate.

You knew exactly how to handle him.

Reaching down, you undid his pants with slow, deliberate movements, just enough to drag it out. You watched his face twist with frustration, eyes flicking between your hands and your face, unsure what to do with himself. You teased the waistband of his boxers with your fingers, but you didn’t pull them down. Not yet.

“I think you’ve been waiting long enough,” you finally whispered, giving him the release he so badly craved.

Jisung let out a shuddering breath, his body finally relaxing in defeat as you took control, his cock springing free from the confines of his boxers. His eyes fluttered shut, and he let out a broken moan when your hand wrapped around him, just once—enough to drive him wild.

“You want it, don’t you?” you murmured, your voice like velvet, though you were far from gentle. “You want me to finish what I started?”

He couldn’t answer. He was too far gone, shaking under your touch as you stroked him slowly, carefully, watching him unravel under the pressure.

“Please,” he gasped, his voice barely above a whisper. “Please, noona, I can’t take it anymore.”

And that was all you needed to hear.

You leaned in close, your lips brushing his ear as you whispered, “What noona wants, noona gets, Jisung.”

His chest was heaving, his body trembling under your touch—and you hadn’t even started yet.

Still pinned to the wall, pants shoved halfway down his thighs, Jisung looked ruined already. His lashes fluttered, lips parted, his cock twitching in your hand as you gave him the slowest, laziest stroke imaginable. Just enough to keep him there, teetering, aching.

“You’ve been thinking about me, haven’t you?” you purred, your voice a soft blade. “Every time you touched yourself. Every time you watched one of those filthy videos.”

He whimpered. Literally whimpered. And it went straight to your core.

“I—I didn’t mean to—” he stuttered, eyes glassy, desperate. “I just—fuck—couldn’t stop.”

Your grin widened. Exactly the answer you wanted.

“Well,” you whispered, drawing back slightly, “I think it’s time I give you something better to fantasize about.”

You stepped back. Slowly. Intentionally. His hands twitched toward you like he couldn’t bear the distance, but you just tsked and shook your head.

“No touching,” you warned, voice firm. “If you want this—you watch. Hands behind your back, pretty boy.”

He swallowed hard. Then obeyed. Just like that. His wrists pressed to the wall behind him, his cock bobbing helplessly in the open air, flushed red and leaking already, the image of pure obedience and pure lust colliding in one trembling body.

And then—you started undressing.

Deliberately slow. You held his gaze, never letting him look away. Every piece of clothing peeled from your skin like a secret he wasn’t supposed to see. His breathing turned ragged. His thighs trembled. You hadn’t even touched him again yet and he already looked close to tears.

Your bra hit the floor. His knees buckled.

“Fuck,” he whispered, voice hoarse. “Noona—noona, please—”

You stepped closer. Your hands skimmed up your own body as you walked, swaying your hips with wicked intention. “You like this, baby? Like watching me take my time just for you?”

His mouth opened to answer, but only a broken gasp came out.

Then your panties dropped. And he lost it.

Suddenly his hands were on you, grabbing, clinging, pulling you back against him like his body had stopped listening to his brain. You let him. You let him.

You didn’t miss how hard he was rutting against your thigh, panting desperately, moaning into your skin like he was starved. His fingers fumbled across your waist, hips, ass, like he couldn’t decide where to touch first.

“I—need you,” he gasped, helpless. “Please, please, I can’t—I need—”

Your lips brushed his ear. “You want to fuck your noona?”

He whined.

Your fingers slid between your legs, slow and taunting, just enough to coat yourself. You grabbed his cock and guided him to your entrance.

“You get one chance to behave, baby,” you murmured. “Make it count.”

And when you finally let him in—

He broke.

Jisung cried out, a choked, wrecked moan as he sank into you, his arms wrapping around you like he was trying to climb inside your skin. His hips moved with frantic desperation, rutting into you like he couldn’t control himself, like his body was acting on pure need.

“F-fuck, you feel—you feel so good, noona—” he whimpered, hips snapping hard against yours, the sound of skin on skin echoing in the room. “Been dreaming—fuck—been dreaming of this—”

You kissed his neck, dragged your nails down his back, and he whimpered again.

His thrusts were erratic, messy, driven by pure instinct. He buried his face in your shoulder, clutching at you like his life depended on it. His breath was hot and ragged against your skin.

“Need you, noona—need to come inside—wanna come so bad—please—please—”

You shushed him, whispering filth into his ear, telling him how good he felt, how sweet he was when he begged. Every word made him moan louder, lose rhythm, his control slipping like water through shaking fingers.

You clenched around him—tight, deliberate—and he cried out, biting down on your shoulder as he came, hips jerking wildly, cock twitching deep inside you. His whole body went stiff, then soft, collapsing against you like his bones had melted.

You held him through it, even as he trembled, even as he whimpered into your skin, still whispering broken apologies between his breathless moans.

But all you did was smile.

Because this was just the beginning.

—

Sunlight crept in through your half-closed blinds, golden and lazy, washing the room in a quiet warmth that didn’t match the wreckage of the night before.

You stirred. Barely.

Your body ached in all the right ways. Limbs heavy, thighs trembling at the faintest twitch. You blinked up at the ceiling, lips parted in a breathless little sigh as the memories hit you all at once—his moans, his hands, the way he begged, the way he fucked you through every single orgasm you gave him permission for.

You felt like you’d been dragged through heaven, ruined by a boy with too much energy and not enough self-control.

And then—movement beside you.

Jisung.

He was curled up against you under the sheets, hair messy, lips kiss-swollen and still curved up in the faintest smile. One arm was lazily draped across your stomach, and the other curled under his cheek like he was the innocent one here.

He looked utterly blissed out.

You hated how adorable he was.

“Morning,” he mumbled, voice hoarse with sleep. His eyes cracked open halfway, still glazed, warm and dopey. “You alive?”

You groaned.

“Barely,” you muttered, unable to stop the grin pulling at your lips. “You’re insane. Who the hell fucks like that and still has energy to keep going?”

He giggled. Actually giggled. And you felt the vibration of it through your ribs where he was pressed against you.

“Guess I was just… really excited,” he whispered, rubbing his cheek lazily against your side like a cat. “You stripped for me, noona. You had me fucked up. I had to give it back.”

You rolled your eyes, shifting slightly—then freezing as your thighs protested the motion, sore and jelly-like. “I literally can’t feel my legs.”

His head snapped up, eyes wide, and then that soft grin stretched into something a little too smug.

“…Really?”

You narrowed your eyes.

He bit his lip. His ears flushed. But the pride in his expression was unmistakable.

“I knew I was doing good,” he mumbled, voice just the tiniest bit cocky through the sleepy rasp. “You were so loud. I was like, holy shit, this is real.”

“You begged the whole time,” you shot back, nudging his thigh with your knee—though the motion immediately made you regret it. “Don’t act like you didn’t cry on orgasm number three.”

He groaned and buried his face in your stomach, too embarrassed to argue.

“I was sensitive! You kept squeezing me—what was I supposed to do?!”

“You loved it.”

“…Yeah.” He peeked up at you with the softest little smile, all sheepish and clingy again. “I really loved it.”

You carded your fingers through his hair, letting your nails lightly graze his scalp, and he melted into your touch like butter. It was almost ridiculous, how this sweet, flustered boy was the same one who’d left you shaking just hours ago.

He kissed your hip gently. Then again. And again. Just soft little things, like he couldn’t stop touching you even if he tried.

“Can we stay like this all day?” he whispered.

You sighed, sinking further into the mattress, the ache between your legs humming in agreement. “We don’t have a choice. I literally can’t walk.”

He grinned. Absolutely beamed. Then cuddled up tighter against you, slipping his leg between yours, like he was trying to steal the last bit of warmth from your body.

“Then I guess I did good,” he said softly.

You glanced down at him. “Jisung?”

“Yeah?”

“…Next time, warn me.”

He giggled again, and your stomach did that stupid fluttery thing. His lips brushed over your skin, fingers trailing nonsense patterns over your side. He looked like the happiest boy alive.

And honestly?

You kinda loved that it was you who made him that way.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Authors note: so this was a bit long and we arent really due for a jisung update yet but my friend really wanted a subby jisung fic so i had to write, kinda got carried away lol.

I hope you liked it still, it means a lot to leave me your comments and likes and reblogs! Thank you!

[tackykachowch]

Hey guys remember that terrible letter in s2? Well, how about I tell you that it's actually worse than it seems?

Alright. For the purpose of my point being more clear I'll recite it here. *barely held in gag*

"Silco. I've looked everywhere, but it's clear that you don't want to be found. Oh, God, I'm shit at this (THEN WHY ARE YOU EVEN WRITING IT YOU STUPID IDIOT. Sorry). I'm sorry. When she died, I lost my head. I told myself that what I did to you was for the greater good, that you deserved it. But the dirt was on both our hands. Anyway, you know where to find me. Blisters and Bedrock"

So, it is obvious that Vander regrets what he did to Silco and that he doesn't view him as a "villian of the story" anymore, so to speak. His murder attempt was purely emotional rather than motivated by ideological opposition or something else. Great.

Buuuut let's rewind to the very start of the series. Right to episode one. There. Take a look at these screenshots.

So Vander says to Benzo that there's someone on their side (the Undercity) who is worse than enforcers. Not even someONE, but someTHING. This implies quite a big level of resentment if you ask me. While he's saying that, he looks at his right hand and touches his uhh...I don't. Know how this thing's called I'm sorry. Let's call it a leather cover. There's clearly a reason why he wears it now, and this seems to be connected to the "thing" they're talking about. Alright. I guess we'll find out more about this later.

Fast forward to episode three. Heeeeey, what is THAT??

So Silco cut his hand?? Well, that all makes sense now then. Something brought Silco and Vander to a conflict, which resulted in Vander trying to kill Silco, and Silco cutting Vander's hand when he was escaping from him. For now (💀) we don't know what exactly caused such a rift between them, but it apparently was something pretty serious considering that Vander even stopped referring to Silco as a person. While he does later says to Silco that what he did to him was wrong, but nothing indicates that Vander changed his opinion on WHY he did it.

Now, there could be an argument that Silco did something that made Vander hate Silco AFTER the river scene, and this is why Vander thinks so badly of him. But earlier in the same episode we see THIS reaction from Vander when Silco appears.

So here's the question: why would Vander react like that to seeing Silco if he knew of something horrible he did post their fallout? What's more likely, he hasn't heard anything about Silco AT ALL, whether he's dead or alive or what he does. So Vander's opinion of Silco ("something worse than enforcers") formed prior to their falling out and it didn't change over time.

Now that we have all that information let's go back to our dear, favorite letter.

Uhhhh so. Vander is an incredibly awful person???? Either that, or he has an extremely severe case of amnesia. Because why would he go from wanting to reconcile with Silco and not blaming him for what happened straight into thinking that he's worse than enforcers and not even a person?? Or in his mind these things can coexist somehow?? And to add to all of that, apparently he never told Benzo the truth about their falling out, and made him think that Silco is an "animal". What, was Vander so butthurt by Silco never contacting him that he went full 5-year-old-mode "Humph!! I hate you now!!" and proceeded to lie to everyone about Silco?? So much for a reasonable and peaceful leader of the Lanes, huh.

But we all know that's not the case at all. The case is, of course, that writers forgot to rewatch season 1 and made up a reason for Vander and Silco to fight which is not at all aligns with what we knew about them and their relationship before. This is, ladies and gentlemen of the jury, one of the biggest cases of negligence in storytelling that I've ever seen.

[devosin]

— LATE NIGHTS & FLASHING LIGHTS !! episode one : taco bell & shitty tuesdays . .

♡. Spotify playlist | Updates, every Friday !! — Vil Schoenheit x reader | Y/n pov . .

You stare at your phone screen, waiting for the phone call to end, and for the screen to fade to black—A sigh of relief escapes you as you finally hear the line close, the familiar sound of a phone call ending brings you such overwhelming relief, you'd think you just paid off a million dollars worth of nonexistent debt. 

You let yourself fall back on your chair, your publicist had landed you into another event you could care less about all in the name of publicity, and honestly you wish you had the heart to tell her, but you’re well aware that Jean only wants the best for her clients, and each decision had a reason behind it . . —But who the hell goes to a dolphin event anyways?—They’re like the cruelest sea animal!

You stretch your arms, and stare at the pile of clothes spread at the top of your bed and floor. It was the first day on set, nothing major would be happening, only meeting the crew and learning of the plans for the show—and you’d like to make a good impression—anything below show stopping would be an insult to yourself . . and your stylist who suggested a bunch of outfits with the clothes you now have on your bed and floor. 

You let out another sigh, wishing you could just fall back asleep instead of dealing with whatever it is you got yourself signed up to, “I should take a shower”, you mumble to nobody in particular. 

Time: 10:32 am Location: Y/n’s Car

You stir the car into the drive thru of some random Taco Bell that fell on the highway—Normally taco bell for breakfast isn't ideal, and in all honesty will never be your ideal . .  It's a bold move to take the most diarrhea-inducing meal right before a first time cast meeting, but when life gives you taco's, one must oblige. 

Time: 11:43 am Location: Y/n’s Car 

You had parallel parked your car somehow—To be fair ninety percent of the time you park your car with hopes and prayers, and sometimes you forget to fill your gas up entirely, which proves to be really annoying since it's a three hour drive to the capital city where you film mainly, and you have to drive there a lot . .  Your parents would be ashamed to see your yearly towing costs due to a forgetful gas repayment. 

You always seem to assume that somehow the distance to get to your designated location will magically change into a couple minutes and won't waste your gas as much, which quite literally never works, but are you going to learn from your mistakes? . . Most likely not. 

You stretch your arms one more time, taking a few deep breaths and a sip of your drink, before you finally grab your tote bag and head into the studio. 

Time: 11:52am Location: Inside the studio 

A shiver racked over your body the moment you entered the studio—'Dear seven it's fucking cold in here'—you thought, mentally noting that you should ask Amanda when you meet her if there was a way to turn up the heater, it’s literally winter . .  they can’t expect you to film in this situation right? 

As if on instinct a distinct cheery voice could be heard from the farther corner of the room, "Y/n!! You're here", a petite brunette makes her way up to you . .  way too energetic for this early in the morning, "Hi, Amanda", you greet her, a bit awkwardly, not knowing how to exactly approach the conversation. 

“Yes! That’s me, we're just setting up right now, I’m so glad you came.”, she smiled, “You can put your bags on that chair over there, we're just getting a few things sorted, so feel free to introduce yourself to everyone.”. 

"Omg, it's so great to finally see you! . . and like meet you", she seemed so excited, for some weird reason, her energy rubbed off on you, easing your nerves, "Sorry if I'm late, traffic was horrendous", you mumbled, “that’s completely fine, you live further out East right?”, she asked curiously, and you watched as she fiddled with her clipboard checking off random things. 

“Yeah”, you reply dryly, shoving your hands in your pockets, “It’s usually a three hour drive, it took four today”, she nodded along, “Well, if you’re hungry we have snacks in that room”, she points to one of the random staff rooms, “You and Vil will be sharing a dressing room, if you don't mind—If you do I can totally work something out!”, she quickly corrects herself. 

“No it’s completely fine”, you smile, it wouldn’t be the first time, a lot of films on a shorter budget opts to have actors sharing a dressing room, and this is the first ever late night show for the company, you wouldn’t be surprised if sorting things out is already eating a chunk away at the budget set in placed.  

“Speaking of Vil . . Where is he?”, you ask, looking around curiously at the room, you see a bunch of other staff members and crew, who wave hi to you and you wave back. You’ll have to greet them properly later, but you’ll put that to a back burner until your social battery recovers to its full level. 

“Vil?”, she stands in place, thinking for a couple seconds, “He left an hour ago”, you raise a brow, “He came like really early in the morning, said he was getting breakfast and had a meeting, and that he’d be back . . maybe . .  soon?”, she walks around, throwing some pointers to some of the crew . .  it looked like gang signs but the crew understood so who are you to judge, “Honestly I don’t remember much.”, she whispered to you, like it was a secret of some kind, “But . . I did plan a meeting between the two of you tomorrow, you’ll be meeting at this cafe, it’s really private and I booked the area so you guys can comfortably talk about the show, if that’s alright with you?” 

“That’s great actually!”, you smiled, that just gives you one less thing to worry about.

Amanda is actually just a random character based off of no one in particular, I felt like a really sweet manager would be really fun <3

Taco bell . . . no y/n's were harmed in this process (They had pepto bismol in the car dw)

Previous chapter | Masterlist | Next chapter . .

— LATE NIGHTS & FLASHING LIGHTS !! ♡. Synopsis : VIL SCHOENHEIT recently signed a contract under Descendant. Inc for his very own late night show, only to find out his co-star and fellow co-host is none other than Y/n L/n, someone he hates despite knowing very little about them and never having met them, previously. Y/N L/N, an actor who made their debut 3 years ago and hasn’t been able to catch a break since, recently decided to sign a deal with Descendants. Inc to host their new late night show “late nights & flashing lights”, as a break from acting . . Only to find out their favorite long-time actor will be co-hosting with them. Tune in every Friday, for a new episode of “late nights & flashing lights” to see if these two hosts can find a peaceful work-bond amidst their judgements . . and quite possibly even love? . .

♡. Want spoilers ?! . . Join my server . . !! (or to be namedropped <3)

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♡ . Ask to be tagged... (If you don't see yourself up here, I cant tag you)

© devosin , do not repost, plagiarize, translate, or adapt my work without prior permission and or confirmation.

[silverwarewolf]

DUNGEON MESHI EPISODE 24 THOUGHTS

Oh, I had asked to see what the party's thoughts regarding the changeling situation were, especially when it came to their lifespans, but I didn't think it would turn out like this!

GOOD FUCKING JOB, CHILCHUCK. YOU'VE TRAUMATIZED MARCILLE EVEN FURTHER. Oh but I do so love the horrors of this situation of theirs. Marcille babygirl I would like to hug you and have a nice chat.

Anywya, on we go to think about Falin and any solutions that might help us here. Which is great! I love how much foreshadowing there is (in terms of what I've been vaguely told about the manga).

Laios Touden's problem solving skills, everyone.

That's honestly the SICKEST weapon design, I'm so on board with you Laios. This could be Kensuke's Halloween makeover. BUT DONT JUST TAKE THOSE MUSHROOMS WITH YOU OH MY GOD

... was this the opening sequence foreshadowing everyone was freaking out about? was that it? (don't actually tell me, though. if it was it, say yes. if it wasn't, don't say anything)

no comment here I just love them.

I just will never get used to elfshi's hands being Like That. But it's also kinda nice to see him and Izutsumi working along so nicely! Like, don't even get me started on how Izu is presented as the pickiest eater of the party (Marcille has been dethroned severely) and usually you'd see that presented as a Hassle, but here in DM, Senshi doesn't even bat an eye. He knows and respects Izutsumi's tastes and preferences and works his meals out around it! That's such a based thing for him to do. <3

This is a renaissance painting. (I love it when they adapt Ryoko Kui's visual gags and I LOVE when she does zoomed in faces like this. Truly one of the artists ever)

I did not have "Laios gets Pissed On" on my bingo card but every day I grow more and more convinced that the animators KNOW what they're doing and - OH MY GOD IS THAT SENSHI'S DWUSSY. ELFSHI ALTERNATIVE TO PANTY SHOT.

Ah, yes, Izutsumi sprawls all over them when sleeping, we been knew, again it's a little unexpected to see it front and center but I guess it works to demonstrate them returning to - THAT WAS LAIOS??? AND CHILCHUCK IS JUST LIFTING HIS LEG LIKE THAT?? OKAY THEN. SURE.

(and then there's a few more seconds of laiosfoot and laios bedhead)

BUT HEY THEY'RE BACK TO NORMAL

1) Yep, they're back to normal.

2) Laios I love you and I love Gothsuke but someone needs to be careful about biohazards and it's not going to be you.

3) Add this to the "Marcille Donato gets threateningly close to you in three steps" folder.

4) Truly only they can match each other's freak. When the NECROMANCER is telling you not to do something, don't do it! I know last time you smuggled a "normal" sword, it turned out to be useful, but I'm sure that's not the case here!

5) Poor Laios tho. I'll learn to blacksmith just to give you a cool sword. <3

I'm so glad they kept this. One of the silliest touden siblings moments. 10/10 no notes. Also, Falin is never beating the blunt force trauma allegations.

IS THAT CHILCHUCK'S WIFE. ARE YOU - MA'AM. HELLO?

"Why aren't you a twink like I thought you'd be?!" gets adapted! (I'm pretty sure that's the scene meant to be here, anyways)

I get it, girl.

Oh dear, they're going to eat Falin. And SENSHI was the one to suggest it! For a guy who was just fighting the doubts of accidental cannibalism a week ago, you're taking bold steps forward.

(I do love how it mirrors Laios' kindness back then, in truth. Even if it's an idea so shocking and dire at first, it comes from a place of reason and logic and love)

Marcille "I said I wanted to eat her OUT, not eat HER" Donato Izutsumi "That's going to taste gross as fuck" Izutsumi Chilchuck "If it brings her back..." Tims Laios Touden, the man with a thousand things on his head right now, two of which I reckon are "I don't want to eat my sister" and "Dragon-Chicken... what might it taste like?"

Yes, well. Valid as your concerns are, Laios, because how the fuck would five people eat THAT much meat, you can't just ramble on about what dishes you're going to make out of your sister.

(...I get it, though. I mean if you're going to eat, might as well make it good, right? I know no one wants to grill one of Faligon's ribs but I'll go ahead and say it would be worse to tell them to eat her raw)

FUCK! we DID lose those scenes about the twin bell that toshiro kept!! forever sad about that.

oh my godddd they're going back into the dungeonnn we're going to reunite with themmm

I know they're really fucking competent, I mean, Namari and Toshiro are already described as pretty formidable warriors (and we've seen it), and Kabru is... admittedly much more geared to fight humans but he's a decent fighter either way. And a good leader!

Speaking of, where the fuck is everyone else.

I know they're meant to be scary (and I suppose they are! If we have the reference that, firstly, marcille is an excellent spellcaster so these elves could be just as good in their own areas of expertise, yes?, and secondly, the canaries are Well Known)

... plus, Namari, Toshiro and Kabru are wary of them. Namari, Toshiro and Kabru are wary of them.

BUT damn it Lycion, I need to- (gets dragged off stage)

Anyway, while we wait for the next season (WHICH HAS BEEN GREENLIT! WOHOO!), have these wonderful images of chicken falin being a cathedral painting (...if cathedrals ever added dragons, i guess) and my beloveds, who have finally returned!

[growling]

*average self-proclaimed safe space tumblr blog voice* I soooooo support people with schizophrenia that must be so hard to you anyway I just saw some weird looking woman talking to herself right outside my house im fearing for my life should I call the cops. Yeah dude I support all the adhd havers in the chat just try to pay attention when I talk to you it's not that hard it's like the least you could do to show some regard for the other human being in front of you. Like it's fine to have memory problems but why did you forget this one thing in particular that was important to me do you like not care or anything you should try harder. I am one of the only real mental health advocates to still exist in this world I hear your struggles that being said I hope I never get to meet one of those irl sociopaths or people with aspd whatever they call them now they're so freaky and they can blend into society so well you might never know if you're actually face to face with an actual socio i mean person with aspd in the store absolutely one of my biggest fears what if they torture me in their basement. I absolutely empathize with all the people in here suffering from delusions as long as they like, don't actually show it or have one concerning me that'd be highkey uncomfy leave me out of this dude im not talking to you until you get help, anyway my fav character from my anime just presumably died but i still think they actually survived im sooo delulu lol. We should push for more wheelchair accessibility in our cities I agree but like it's so difficult to tell how many people are actually disabled and who are actually faking it, like, ummm why did that "wheelchair" "user" guy stand up just now cover blown lmaoo…. Yeah I support people with facial differences but I still have a right to be disgusted you can't control my emotions anyway can you tag your selfies as #body horror this deeply triggering to me. Speaking of triggering can you also pleaseee hide your scars or at least warn us beforehand jesus do you know how many people genuinely do not want to see it. Here is my extremely fast strobing lights and flashing gifset #epilepsy. Yeah I loveee girls with bpd beautiful princess disorder am i right they're so interesting the stigma sucksssss i'd love to get to be one's favourite person as long as they don't actually have any of those weird or violent symptoms or don't go into any of their "episodes" near me like that's a bit dramatic….. I deeply feel for those who had underwent narcissistic abuse from the hands of an npd I think my shitty ex boyfriend was a narcissist too tbh #surviving narcissism here are 10 signs you are dealing with a narcissist and here's a tutorial on how to trigger a narc crash to epically own them anyway does anyone else think we should start enforcing mandatory castration of all the newly diagnosed narcs like you know what happens when they reproduce right. But I am willing to support them as long as they go to therapy to get that fixed it's just you know. Anyway sometimes hospitalisation is fine if they're genuinely a danger to themselves like what do you want them to go live on the streets or actually get help?? I support all the people dealing with being a professionally diagnosed disordered system and I think it's sooooo terrible how literally 99% of the youth population nowadays is purposefully faking it for attention I did my research (1 minute google search, 2 minute r/fakedisordercringe scrolling session and consulting a single system that agrees with me). It's just not believable to me that there's really that many people with it isn't it supposed to be rare… Also are we really sure all those alleged people in their heads are really real or just their imagination maybe all of them are actually faking it huh food for thought. I am very uncomfortable with nonverbal high support needs ppl actually having sex like consent is supposed to be explicitly verbal only and, are we really sure they can even consent arent they like basically children. You can't call me ableist I'm literally autistic

[sparrowlucero]

Instead of discourse about showrunners and lesbians and whatever, I'm gonna bring a different type of discourse...whats ur fav and least Dr Whomst monsters. Hard mode: only the practical ones.

ok so I do like all the obvious ones, I like the angels, I like the vashta nerada, I like the not-things, I like the eternals. Here's a few deeper cuts (focusing on the tv show specifically):

they peaked with these maggots. they rock. pretty sure they're made with taxidermy? really great puppetry. I really like this thing:

what a cool design for this kind of forgotten midseason episode.

this is such a fun design for a langolier-type monster. I love how their crest and tail gives them the silhouette of a grim reaper

The 60s cybermen rock. I feel like they're hesitant to use them often in the modern show because they do look very 1960s but I think there's something really uncomfortable and evocative about the cloth faces that's lost when they're cool metallic robots. The mix between looking like an old diving suit and the implication of there being a chopped up person inside is gnarly and I love it. Simple, creepy, iconic design.

My favorite design in the show is probably this:

The 456 from the spinoff series torchwood. They didn't need the puppet to emote or move a ton since it spends the entire season in a little tank obscured in mist, so they just went crazy with the design and made it really bizarre looking. Extremely top tier alien. Anyways, negative. I really don't like this satan. the satan kind of sucks. the impossible planet is great atmospheric sci fi horror; every image of build up in it is haunting and leagues ahead of the climactic scene where he meets the satan. It singlehandedly kind of kills the vibe.

Personally I would have just kept the actual appearance off screen, just have it be eyes in the dark or something. Apparently they also tossed around the idea that it would end up being a normal little girl who was chained up in the cave and I think that would have visually fit the rest of the episode better.

I'm really not big on the modern design for the sea devils (the green one on the right). I think the classic ones clearly took a lot of direct influence from real animals and generally is a pretty thoughtfully realized design, the modern ones seem like they were first and foremost using the classic ones for reference and didn't quite capture the nuance of the design. Sad, as I would really like to see design for these guys with modern puppetry.

I think this is actually a pretty contentious opinion but the work of the specific studio who headed this redesign generally wasn't my favorite. Apparently there was some sort of major, semi public falling out between the fx studio that had been working on the show since 2005 and the people who started running the show in 2018, and they were briefly replaced with a much less experienced studio. No hate to them of course (I think this was actually their first job like, ever, and a lot of the work was done in crunch time?) but the difference did stand out to me:

[pumpkinstrawbrew]

been rewatchin' BTAS recently. so here's is some of my absolute fav episodes to name. 📺💥

...

(naturally, that's not all of my favorite episodes, haha. BTAS is just nearly perfect in terms of writing of an animated show. aside from a couple of lackluster eps, an' a few that i just don't personally care about much.

but anyways … 

‘blind as a bat’ was one of those eps, which actually made me so paranoid as a kid. losing your sight is one of the scariest things, which can happen to a person. an’ i love how they portrayed this via bruce, whose whole life is literally him fighting crime, but how will he do it now, when he can’t see anything? like, it doesn’t stop him of course. but man. it was so gut punching. BTAS not only understood batman / bruce, but they also gave him a lot of vulnerable moments like that. i mean, this was also one of like 2 or maybe 3 eps, where we see bruce tear up an’ it’s always gonna tug at my heart strings. admittingly, penguin mostly was there just to be well, an asshole, but i like how much it says about him, when he giddily an’ sadistically corners bruce, fully enjoying the fact, that he’s helpless. 

‘eternal youth’, i gotta appreciate how terrifying this episode is. an’ the utterly messed up the concept behind it. i think, that BTAS had really nailed the fact, that poison ivy is honestly a horrifying person. her rapey gimmick aside, her motivations an’ how far she’s willing to go for it … oh, she’s such a delightful psycho! i love, love ivy who acts like this. a proper female villain to boot an’ who’s also not a one trick pony, but can bring a lot of more of awful an’ chilling things to the table. not to meantion, that it's always good to see batman's other rogues, than the clowns to threaten batman's loved ones, esp if they had no idea that they do it.

‘joker’s favor’, for what it worth i’m happy, that i still can fully enjoy joker an’ harley’s characters at least in some media. i suppose, arkhamverse is fine too, but over the years, i feel like both of the clowns were overused in literally everything under the sun to the point, where i’m unable to stomach them in most outlets nowadays. i jus’ don’ wanna look at them or hear about them or anything … but here? oh, what a blessing! the best harley to ever exist. an’ one of two jokers, that i actually really like. as for episode itself, this has such an interesting flavor to it. not only we get to see what it’s like for a normal gotham citizen to be at the wrong place an’ at the wrong time, but also what smth like that can do to an otherwise a simple, everyday man. also, the joker crawling on his knees like a coward is always great. since i feel like many writers forget that aside from a crazy murdereous psycho, he’s also supposed to be a narcissistic wimp, who’s deeply afraid of death. an’ it was harley’s debut ep too. she’s so casually evil in it as well. an’ that’s kinda why i drew her without a mask btw. since we do see her face in that very ep.

‘nothing to fear’. i’ve talked so much about that ep, but i don’t mind talking about it yet again. a life changer episode for me. i also remember that while ‘pretty poison’ was entertaining as heck, an’ ‘on leather wings’ was breathtaking in some scenes, i’m pretty sure, that it was ‘nothing to fear’, which fully convinced a child me, that i will be always on the clock, sitting next to tv to watch every following episode of this show. so, yeah, forever gentle of this one an’ the concept behind it. also so many parallels an’ bruce’s fee-fees. i love how jonathan would always have that deeper, private key to bruce’s mind. an’ how bruce is always there to terrify him right back. 

‘read my lips’, when i was a kid, the twist of that episode made me so intrigued. bc i wouldn’t have ever thought about who the main villain was an’ how the show would handle it. like, you would expect a villain in typical sense. a man or a woman. or smth like that, not an actual dummy an' person who controls him, but belives that he's not. i love how this whole thing made bruce low-key paranoid as well, bc at some point, he also almost believes that the dummy is alive an’ cursed or smth. i also love how he doesn’t right away realizes that arnold is mentally ill an’ not just pretends like he is. bc it would have been such a clever scheme, if it was one to begin with.

to conclude this all, i will prob for sure ref those eps in my upcoming BTAS fic, bc yeah. i have a tunel vision in a way lol. but mmm, BTAS really feels like timeless classic at this point.)

[vroomvroomwee]

Reasons I think platonic Radiostatic will reconcile in season 2:

1. Wayy to many hints to their past friendship. Eg. the torn photo, Alastor’s distaste towards modern tech, Vox asking Alastor to join his team, Aalstor posing for Vox's cameras even though he hates having his visage recorded, Vox knowing Alastor will try to make a deal with Charlie - he knows him well, etc etc. As well as all of the parallels between them: sceatching the table, "what did you say?", the nun/proest and chef/waiter combos, the fake smiling, their similar looks, etc. And they wouldn't have put all those arbitrarily. Animation is difficult and every single shot is intended for a purpose.

2. The Lucifer/ Stolas parallels.

I know this is a weird one, but hear me out. Both Lucifer and Stolas started off as cruel, emotionless, rich royal bastards who didn't particularly care about sinners or hellborn. Then they turned into depressive dads who have problems with their wives and are estranged from their daughters. All of a sudden, the evil tyrants became "nice" characters who've never done anything wrong and who we should sympathise with.

I'm bringing up the Lucifer/Stolas parallels because another thing that happens in Helluva Boss is Biltz and Fizz's reconciliation. They drifted apart due to a horrible accident that was neither of their fault, then they detested each other for years. When they reunite, they do it under exigent circumstances where they realise their falling out was tampered with by outside parties. One of them (Blitz) would absolutely sleep with the other, while Fizz is not at all interested (sounds familiar)

Viv clearly has a pattern in her shows, so I'm hoping it extends to Radiostatic too.

3. Based on Viv's latest posts on blue-sky, she's really hyping Vox up. I don't think she would focus on him so much if he turned out to be plain malicious instead of the evil but pathetic capitalist we all know and love. If he really does hate Alastor and does something horrible to him, I don't think Viv would be cheering Vox up this much (especially not with all the rabid allegations that she supports or endorses SA). If Vox really is in every episode of s2, then the possibility of an emotional scene between him and another character is more likely to happen.

4. When asked "who is the person Alastor cares about most?" Amir opted not to answer and instead only said we should wait until season 2. I don't see a reason he would withold something like that unless it's a crucial piece of information that might spoil something. The only people that this could apply to would be Alastor’s mom, or Vox.

5. "Sad and complicated" I think this alone corroborates the existence of a past Alastor/Vox friendship that turned sour

Anyways, here's to me praying Vox doesn't do anything awful to Alastor in season 2, and instead, the evil men become friends again and cause mayhem for everyone else 🕯