#bc the blue tint was her thing

[youcanfacethis]

Taylor Swift I know you won’t do this but I need a list of your top reads every month and for you to suddenly create a brand new lipstick line just for my own sake!!! I will buy every color!! I will read every word you recommend!!! pls!!!!

[shouyuus]

18+, pitfighter!vi brainrot, bc its girl-dinner time tw: sorta smut, sorta obsessive!vi, codependent relationship, not quite yandere but the vibes r kinda there, but still fluffy bc im me duh

pitfighter!vi who fucks you like she's trying to leave a part of herself inside you, who holds you so hard that the next morning, you wake up to the blue-tinted ghosts of her fingers along your hips and thighs, the dull blossoming bruises littering your neck and shoulders, rings in the shape of her teeth like strange, demented flowers (or perhaps like footprints) the way they trail along your skin, inked there for all to see.

pitfighter!vi who fights like she's trying to break everyone else in the same way she wishes she were broken herself, all fevered, focused rage, and none of the restraint. no patience, only the blunted sting of a punch well-aimed, an elbow to the ribs, a knee to the groin, spit trailing out the edge of her mouth, a grin crooked and bloody hinged between her lips bc she knows when she looks up and scans the crowd, she'll inevitably find you there, watching her with your wide, alluring eyes.

pitfighter!vi who thinks she knows the depths and widths of hunger, has seen and felt it all, growing up in the lanes, and there are so many different kinds, aren't there? the kind that aches dull and deep in the stomach, the kind that claws and roars open in her chest, the kind that tingles like spider-poison all along the length of her spine. still, she's never quite felt a hunger like this -- the kind that threatens to consume her from the inside out the first time she sees you, and at first, it might've been a wholly vindictive thing -- perhaps its because there'd been something in the shadow of your smile that reminds her of -- well, it doesn't matter.

but the first time she kisses you (in the crush of bodies on a crowded dance floor, the music too loud, the bottom of her boots tacky with spilled drinks and blood and whatever else), you'd run your thumb along the line of her jaw so gently, traced the lines of her face with a touch so soft it ran a fissure through her car-alarm heart, and when she'd pulled away, you'd smiled as if she'd given you something other than just the jagged, broken bits of herself.

later, you'd told her that you still appreciated it then. bc it looked like that was all she could afford to give; and she gave it to you anyway.

pitfighter!vi who does not think she will ever get enough of you, and still, the more she gets, the more you give, the deeper the hunger grows. it yawns open inside her, huge and dark and cavernous, carving into her the more that it's fed, and by the gods do you feed it -- the way your head tilts back to allow her access to the smooth expanses of your throat, the darling, moon-lit landscape of your bare chest and shoulders, the way you're so pliant beneath her, your trust pouring from you like drink. and she drinks. and drinks. and drinks.

drinks till she's head-dizzy and heart-full. drinks till her vision blurs but for the sight of you, the shape of you so familiar to her waking moments it does not shock her in the least the first time she wakes up in the morning to the after-images of you in her dreams.

pitfighter!vi who, for the first time in her life thought she had lost all direction, but now -- she feels like at least there's still someone worth protecting, worth fighting for. and she knows, she knows it's not entirely healthy, how much and how hard she falls for you, knows that perhaps it is not the best thing for a woman like her to make someone like you the still-point of her turning universe, you, who manages to shine despite the grime that collects in the city around you. you, who is softness made into an act of defiance, who, one night, curled against her side, told her that there's a certain vindication to smiling in the face of a world who would love nothing more than to rip the joy, bleeding and raw from your throat.

"it's not always easy... actually," you laugh, the sound sweet as spring water as it trickles over her skin, "it's really fucking hard but... why not do it anyway?"

"what, be happy?" her own voice is low and cracked from the fight earlier that night. but you'd kissed a line down her throat and told her that you loved it when she moaned.

"yeah. if the whole world wants us sad and angry... what bigger fuck you is there than to be... happy?"

pitfighter!vi who lets you draw the dark lines down her cheeks, but they're neater than she'd done them herself, who kisses your fingertips when they're stained with the black of her hair-dye, who laughs fully for the first time in... she doesn't even remember how long, when you lean forward and trace a tiny mustache with the leftover ink on your fingers right over her mouth. who sinks into the sound of your laughter like a warm bath, letting it soak into her sore muscles, unspool the tension coiled in her shoulders, the rictus threatening to settle in the set of her knuckles.

she lets you sooth over the harms and hurts that had followed behind her, nipping at her heels like disobedient dogs her whole life, lets you kiss her brows and pull her behind you as you point at the new graffiti art that wasn't there the week before.

pitfighter!vi who has always had a fierce love for zaun because it's her home, but has never stopped to consider just how beautiful of a place it is until she meets you -- and it is beautiful, an angry, pulsing, rebellious beauty, raw and dripping with shimmer-soaked ichor. a beauty carved of disparate limbs and desperate parts, one that is hard-earned and well-fought, the same beauty found in the darkest hours of night, right before the morning dawns, the same beauty she finds reflected back at her when she sees her blurred reflection in a pool of spilt blood on the fighting pit's arena floor.

zaun hums to the tune of debauchery, and for the first time, she's with someone who allows her to be greedy, allows her the breadth and width of wanting so freely. and she thinks it might be spiraling into a full-blown obsession, the way she can't go three seconds without thinking about you, wondering where you are, what you're doing, what you're up to. and you always tell her, tell her about the flowers you saw growing from a crack in the sidewalk, the shaft of sunlight hitting a shard of broken glass in just the right way, how sometimes if you close your eyes and listen, the ticking and clicking noises that run like a baseline thrum through the entire city almost sounds like birdsong.

pitfighter!vi who can't say she's ever fallen properly in love (she thinks that perhaps, once, she got real close), but wonders if this is what it feels like, to feel the void of your physical absence like the itch of a phantom limb, so she does everything she can to keep you close, glares at people if their eyes linger too long on you as the pair of you walk down the street, doubles down on her training regime so that she can fend of anyone who even breathes wrong in your direction.

who can't help pouting every time you pull away to do anything -- to grab another bag of snacks, to ask the bartender for another drink, to listen to something loris is saying -- she has to tamp down the urge to pull you back, to meld you to her side and never let go.

pitfighter!vi who starts to get more strategic with her fights, who saves up money now bc she wants to take you out to dinner, or just buy you nice things once in a while. who spends way too many hexes and cogs on a bouquet of fresh flowers, ones that aren't tainted or bred with the faint, sickly shine of shimmer, and she thinks its all worth it to watch the smile break across your face like dawn over a brand new day -- brilliant, blinding.

she blinks, watching with a fond smile as you fuss over the flowers in your tiny apartment, the space small but cozy, everything neat and in its place. you put the flowers into a tall, slightly chipped glass mug and set them by the window, admiring them from this angle, then that.

"y'like them, angel?"

you nod, grinning as you throw your arms around her, "i love them, vi! i love them so much!"

"good. i'm glad you like 'em. just..." her voice trails off; you cock your head.

"just, what?"

she shrugs, "ah -- just, i always thought it was sad getting flowers cause... they'll wilt someday, right?"

but when she looks back at you, still caught up in her arms, you're still smiling. and there's a fox-fire glint in your eyes that makes something in her stomach twist hot.

"well, there's one kind of flower that won't wilt that i wouldn't mind having here all the time..."

vi blinks, a dry heat creeping up the back of her throat, her heart a wild, fluttering thing caught beneath her cage of ribs.

"yeah?" her voice is hoarse as she swallows around the hope pooling on her tongue like blood. "and what kinda flower is that?"

you lean in, your breath a whisper along her parted lips.

"violets."

pitfighter!vi who moves in three days later, with nothing but some old clothes and her punching bag, which you'd already made room for (somehow) hung up from one of the high rafters in the kitchen, next to the tiny dining table tucked into the corner. who spends the next three days fucking you on every available surface (and some unavailable ones, like against the fridge for instance), telling you that it's only right to christen things now that you're officially living together.

who doesn't bother to wonder if things are moving too fast, and dives in head first because that's the only ways she's ever known to how to do things. who thinks, blithely to herself one night, the warm shape of you curled next to her, sleeping so soundly it almost breaks her heart, that you're probably the first good thing she's ever gotten stuck on -- and she's gotten stuck on a lot of things (fighting, boxing, the guilt, the shame, the anger, the world-ending sorrow of losing it all). its one of the things vander had always warned her about.

"you get into things too hard, kiddo -- gotta learn to pace yourself."

but she doesn't care, because hard's what she was raised on, and it's how she plans on loving you, god, if it's the last thing she does, right or wrong, so be it.

pitfighter!vi who still has her bad nights, still drinks a bit too much sometimes, but at least you're always there to keep her from going too far. and you're the only one who can pull her back, the only one she'll listen to when you tug the drink away from her hands and slide it down the bar towards loris, who'll eye it for a second before downing it and settling up the tab, nodding towards you even as you sling an arm around vi's middle to lead her out of the bar.

who still wakes up screaming some nights, her eyes wide and unseeing, scrabbling at you, tugging you into her if only to bury her face in your shoulder, her whole body wracked with dry-heaving sobs.

"my sister used to think there were monsters under the bed, and make me check down there every night before going to bed," she murmurs, her face inches from yours, her words soft and ever so slightly slurred.

you brush your fingers against her cheek, a comforting, repetative motion -- back and forth, back and forth, till her lashes flutter shut.

"guess she was right... but the monsters never wanna stay under the bed, do they? it's like they always... wanna come out and play..."

you let out a breathy laugh, "or maybe," you offer, your voice low and soothing, "they're just as scared as you are. and they're just looking for someone to scare their own monsters away."

pitfighter!vi who is still not good at slow, but sometimes, when she kisses you, she wishes that had the power to hit pause on time, just so she could stretch out the moment and kiss you forever. she thinks that she'll never be good at patience, but sometimes, when you tell her just gimme a sec! when she's waiting for you to get ready before going out to dinner at jericho's or just for a round of drinks at the bar round the corner, her leaning against the doorway watching as you put the finishing touches of your makeup on yourself in the kitchen mirror -- she thinks she'd give you every last second of the rest of her life if you ever asked her to.

pitfighter!vi who, recently, has really, really started hoping that someday soon, you'll actually ask her to.

taglist: @traiitorjoe @rizzscary @wetcat020 @alex-thegiraffeboyy @nanasemo @saturnhas82moons @unear7hly @drsnowrose @grantaires-waistcoat @isab3lita @ally-all-around @starrysetup22 @lipsent - join the taglist

[luffysprincess]

LIE DETECTOR TEST : BACHIRA MEGURU

⊹ summary : the blue lock boys are invited to take a lie detector test, but they’ve got to answer twitter’s unfiltered questions

⊹ pairing : bachira meguru x reader (established relationship)

⊹ wc : 640

⊹ warnings : fem!reader with she/her pronouns, reader is referred to as a “wife”, suggestive/nsfw. MINORS DNI

⊹ a/n : i recommend reading isagi’s version first for more context and a hugee thank you to @nymphsdomain for finding the link to a rb and to aali <3 (@tteokdoroki ) for reblogging this and isagi’s parts in the first place bc shes the reason these could even be found again!! 

⊹ isagi’s version I kunigami’s version

Isagi could only huff out as he tucked his phone back into his pockets. He should’ve expected this honestly, considering he’s known the man for years now.

It’s been quite some time since Bachira’s been hooked up to the machine. Only a few minutes were spent calibrating it with some straightforward questions, but since then, he’s gone into full, honest detail to every question Twitter had for him. And it had every person in the room looking at him with either pure shock and/or amusement.

“…and that’s when I had her squirting all over the back of the team’s bus”

Kunigami spit out his water, and Isagi’s eyes grew wider than ever before as they both turned to him.

“What?! When did this happen?!”

Bachira chuckled at their reaction, “Last match ♡”

“Milo?”

“No lies so far,” Milo laughed.

“Wait…don’t Rin and Barou always sit in the back…“

“Yup” Bachira answered proudly.

“Oh my god. They’re gonna kill you when they watch this.”

“That’s if they watch it. Which they won’t.”

“Alright next question! Twitter user @/bachirasbitch asks What’s your wildest sexual fantasy and why does it include me?”

Kunigami whistles, “Your fans are just as shameless as you”.

“They’re right though. It does include them. And the rest of my fans too.” Bachira chuckles at the looks he’s getting from his teammates before continuing, “I’ve always wanted an audience for what me and Y/N do behind closed doors. I think it’d be pretty exciting knowing someone’s watching me pleasure my wife.”

“You should make an only fans account then,” the interviewer suggests. “Your fans would probably love that.”

“Now who says I don’t already have one,” he winks back.

“Well do you?”

“I don’t have to answer that. I’m here to answer Twitter, not you” he grins.

“Fair enough,” the man sighs. “Let’s see, we’ve got time for one more question for you. @/bluelickmyclit asks What’s the most awkward thing that’s ever happened between you and one of your teammates?”

“Ooh I like this question.”

“I don’t” chimed Isagi.

“So before my wife and I moved into our apartment, we used to be next door neighbors with Yoichi. The way the floor plan was had us sharing a wall between our bedrooms. I know, silly design. Now this happened quite some time ago; before I got married, and back when this guy—” he points his thumb over to Isagi who’s hiding his face in his hands “—was single. I don’t know if I’d call this the most awkward incident but it was pretty awkward, ‘cause there wasn’t a single night we went to sleep without hearing him moan out Y/N’s name. And I mean every night—“

“Ok!” Isagi interrupted, cheeks and ears tinted pink. “I think they get it”

“I don’t know why it took him so long to realize the walls were paper thin. Y/N and I aren’t exactly the quietest people out there. He had to have heard us every night too— ow” Isagi cut him off with a punch to the arm, sick of his teasing which only furthered Bachira’s amusement.

“I hope you know Y/N found it very flattering”

“Shut up and take the cuffs off.”

“She thinks it was cute”

“Kunigami, hurry up and connect to the machine.”

“I’m rather enjoying this, actually. How often was this happening again?”

“Every night” Bachira and Kunigami continue to tease Isagi, laughing at him as he attempts to unhook one teammate and attach the sensors to the other instead.

Bachira had never had so much fun in an interview before. He couldn’t wait to go home and tell you all about it and then watch it with you when it aired. But for now, he’d enjoy messing with his friends like this. And now that Kunigami was up next, he was looking forward to it even more.

[wmnwntmefshfrme]

I FINISHED THEM. I DID IT. WOOHOO (crying)

edit: putting myself back in the trenches, more extreme though since i'm making character sheets LMAOAOA

design notes:

Yaira: nothing changed

Estrella: dead mom ponytail gone </3 i only did it in the og drawing of her bc its funny

Robin: ROBINNNN. IM SO SORRY I FORGOT THE PUFF BUNS UUEHEHHHHH- anyway, when i was planning out the designs for the other named npcs, i was like "why the hell are there so many gingers" so i made her have blue hair :3 to match with her confidence stat :3 also gave her yellow/orange eyes instead of green bc there were also a lot of green eyed npcs

Sydney: SKUNK HAIR. I DUNNO HOW I FORGOT ABOUT THAT YUMMY DYE STYLE. SYDNEY IM SORRY. i completely forgot i wanted to still have her natural hair (also just made pink bc teehee i like whimsy) to show

Whitney: not much changed besides the hair style. completely forgot i wanted her to be super gyaru OTL. gave her cheek piercings bc they're cute :3

Kylar: i lowkey started to not like how i did her hair originally and then came across all the sketches i made for the LIs and was like FLUFFY KY :3 ofc had to keep the emo bangs :3

Avery: nothing changed LMAOAOA

Great Hawk: FEATHER HAIR. I FORGOT I MADE A SKETCH FOR FEATHER-LIKE HAIR FOR HER. IM MAD AT MYSELF.

Black Wolf: not much changed, just made her hair longer bc why not

Alex: not much changed, just made he hair more of a red red, darkened her skin, altered her bangs, and changed the color of her bandana. still wanted to keep her looking like a cutie patootie

Eden: I ACCIDENTALLY GAVE HER A GIANT FOREHEAD THE FIRST TIME AND I DIDN'T MEAN TO SOBBING. not much changed though, just made her hair darker and have a green tint to it. look im trying to make my designs have lots of whimsy

Quinn: you can tell with Quinn LMAO. i just felt like she needed to have a distinct look since she's a special npc n all :3 classic purple and green color scheme for a shady character

Bailey: i'm gonna be honest, i was originally gonna go with a mean asian mom look for Bailey but then i was like "....what if muscle mommy"

Remy: i wanted her to look like a little shit. that's all

Briar: tried to go for a bit of a Jessica Rabbit and Rarity type aura. i really like her design and she could put me in the underground brothel any day :3 /j

Leighton: just an old hag, nothing special

Harper: wanted to make her look a little inhuman??? i think i got it with how dead her skin looks idk. also wanted her to look like a little shit

Landry: here's where the asian mom look went. i like her and Mickey's dynamic and they both just look like regular people (better for crime)

Sirris: Sydney if she was older. idk what else i should've done lol

River: old lady :3 hot old lady :3c (pt 1)

Doren: i wanted her hair to look fluffy as hell

Winter: old lady :3 hot old lady :3c (pt 2)

Mason: SEAWEED HAIR. that's all

Charlie: wanted to embody :3c

Darryl: she's very cutie patootie to me so i made her a cute patootie

Sam: wanted her to look like candy kinda. idk :3

Niki: i only made her hair a little longer and no weird two layer thing for the short portion

Zephyr: wanted her to look smug and also kinda cute???? idk, i didn't really have a vision for her

Jordan: also didn't really have a vision for her, but it did want her to gave similar eyes to Quinn

Gwylan: her i did have a vision for :3c she's a cutie patootie, that's all :3

Wren: thought a side shave would make her look cooler

Mickey: hairstyle changed a little. other than that, not much changed

Morgan: still a wet rat

Ivory Wraith: nothing changed (they have special eyes tho)

[silly-honeybee]

I’m a simple lesbian so I heard the pspsppsss and ran to make a request.

Could I request maddie with a crush? And maybe how she’d deal with that and try hinting to it or even try to ask them out

Battle of the diving board

(Gif by me :3)

🐝 ~ YAAY Maddie request! Ty for responding to my pspsps, it means a lot😼 Many ppl have sent Maddie requests which makes me so happy bc Maddie is my faaaav~ Anyway Ik the title is weird, but hope y’all get the vision once you read🙏 ty for requesting!!<3

Fic includes: Maddie having a crush on you

Warnings: none

Genre: fluff ig? Yeah

Characters: Maddie Nolan

♡ ~ Fem!reader - she/her prns used for r once - wlw

~ Maddie is in a constant battle of “should I go for it?” … “What if she doesn’t like me back?” And so on.

She has loved you for a long time, even trying to deny it at some point in fear that she’d be rejected. A constant back and forth of looking at the water of the pool, wanting to take the chance and just tell you already, and then the ladder back down, the safe route to just not say anything.

~ Every day, she sees you walk by during her morning patrol. A swarm of butterflies bubbles up in her stomach, the giddy feeling that she gets every time she’s around you. The two of you exchange smiles each time, not having the time to stop and chat right then. A simple smile from you is all she needed to brighten her day.

Outside of work, whenever the two of you would hang out, she made an effort to at least try and drop some hints. She wants to tell you how she feels; she really does. Yet the confidence to do so is always so close, yet so far… Like she’s constantly trying to jump from the highest diving board but stops right at the edge each time.

Having lunch with you is one of her favorite things. The two of you meet up for lunch 3 days a week, the soft chatter that starts between you two that usually ends up in a laughing fit. She adores your laugh, and she’s happy that she’s a person you’re able to laugh so freely around. She’s truly honored.

~ But her favorite thing? It’s what the two of you are doing right now. Sitting on the couch of Maddie’s apartment, you cuddled up to her side while watching a movie that she let you choose… She always lets you choose.

She wasn’t even focused on the movie anymore. Her attention was on you, and you only. Her tender, light blue eyes trail away from the television and over to your face. She couldn’t help but admire your features; she found every imperfection about you to be absolute perfection to her.

You noticed her gaze on you, your head turning to face her. A sheepish smile creeps onto Maddie’s face, cheeks tinted a rosy pink, embarrassed to be caught staring, yet she wanted you to know that she only gazed at you like this. She didn’t realize that she was still staring until you spoke.

“You okay there, Mads?” Your voice cuts off her thoughts; gosh... Of course you use that nickname. Even if it’s simple, she still found it endearing to say the least.

“Yea, ‘m okay. Just.. can’t stop lookin’ at ya.” Her confidence seems to rise as she speaks, determined to finally get the words she’s been dying to say for so long. Yet she still threatens to back away from the edge of the diving board, scared she would do a belly flop and get hurt. But she knew better; even if you didn’t feel the same, she’d land safely. Your kindness is one of the many things she loves so deeply about you.

A tender smile graces your face, your right hand finding hers, interlocking your fingers carefully. Maddie held her breath, eyes going back and forth between your hands that are intertwined and your lips that were so, so close to hers.

It felt like her whole body erupted into flames as your lips eventually touched for the first time. Butterflies bouncing off of the walls of her soul… Kissing you was probably the best decision she has ever made.

~ It’s safe to say that she landed perfectly in the water, the diving board not looking as tall anymore.

🐝 ~ Ty for reading! If you’re new here, check out my intro and masterlist if you want ^^

Intro - Masterlist (links)

[konigsblog]

omg I loved idea of kidnapper!konig w the shy and sheltered reader it has me floored tbh🫨😮‍💨 presenting you my brain rot the way a proud cat delivers a leaf on your doorstep as a token of gratitude

thinking about how he noticed her at her work or something bc she was so helpful but a little reserved, afraid of him even. Probably bc she isn’t used to seeing 6”10 behemoth military men every day. Konig is smitten w the way she shies away from his intense eye contact, the way she flushes painfully all over her face and neck and stutters as he tries to make conversation. He is enamored, because despite being taken aback by him she still is so obedient and proper in the way she addressed him, going out her her way to make sure he has everything he needs. He wonders in how many other ways she would be so willing to serve him. He knows that she would make the perfect housewife, one worth it to being kept in a gilded cage. a beautiful girl such as herself, oblivious to the dangers of the real world needs protection, someone strong to keep her safe from all the bad men who would no doubt gladly take advantage of her. Konig makes a vow that day to be her protector. at first, the only thing she does is cry and try to get away from him after she wakes up and finds herself chained in his dark basement. She refuses to believe this is her new reality, that’s she’s held captive in the dungeon of the soldier with the icy blue eyes she met at work. She wonders what her mistake was, because she only tried to be nice and friendly despite feeling a deep sense of dread in the pit of her stomach the minute she had laid eyes on the masked giant. If only she had listened to her gut…

no matter how much she beg and pleads, the giant doesn’t budge. He patiently waits for her panic to subside as he takes her in his arms, shushes her and gently wipes and kisses away her tears. He makes her skin crawl, but no matter what she does, she can’t escape the iron grip of his enormous arms snaked around her waist, holding her against his chest as he rocks her back and forth. He is so sweet and gentle, so patient and understanding. He lulls her to sleep in his arms, speaking soft and soothing words in her ear. Soon, she’ll get used to her new home. To her new place beside him, as his. His to love, his to cherish and protect. He promises the chains will come off her ankles and wrists once she behaves and stops trying to get away. But until then, she’s bound to sleep on the old mattress in the cold basement. Of course he isn’t heartless. He comes down once a day to feed her, always making sure its her favorite foods and snacks she gets but on one condition: she has to let him feed her, take the bites and spoonfuls from his hand. He coos at how much of a good girl she is being for him, his praises tinting her ears all pink. And he allows her to bathe, he has all of her favorite oils and gels and products. But once again, for a price. She has to allow him to bathe her. At first she tries to edge away from his hands on her, large and brute palms lathering her soft skin with soap, thoroughly rubbing her all over. She’s never been naked in front of someone else, let alone touched in such a way. But she relaxes once he applies enough pressure on her aching joints, massaging the soreness away. When she finally relaxes and leans her head back against the bathtub, she feels his calloused fingers edge down to her core, teasing her folds. She flinches and opens her eyes, looking up at him, startled and caught like a deer in the headlights.

“have you ever been touched down here, meine hirsch?”

his voice is ever so soft and inviting. She shakes her head, caught in his gaze as her chest falls and rises, her nipples hardening from the cold as her soapy breasts peak up from underneath the bubbles. His fingers find something small, something hidden between her folds and she yelps when he starts rubbing slow and small circles on it. He is delighted to have his suspicions confirmed, his engel is untouched. A virgin.

“you’ve been so good for me today. So obedient. You’re learning so fast, meine hirsch. I think you’ve earned another reward. How about I spoil you some more?”

NON-CON/RAPE

könig is so ecstatic to realise that his little engel is a sweet, inexperienced virign. so he can be your first, the one to corrupt you. you're just so sheltered, so scared and teary-eyed when his hands dip further and further until they reach area's you wish they wouldn't have.

his semi-hard cock only hardens more at the sight of you; bare and wet in a tub of warm water, weak and vulnerable against him. god, the thoughts and fantasies of taking you now – even if you didn't want it – were driving him crazy, almost delusional as his eyes widen and the sides of his mouth curl up into a eerie smile. his morals almost forgotten about when he saw you shudder.

“oh-hah, my sweet thing... are you a virgin?” he lauaghs out at the question, almost taken about, excited and shocked.

he chuckles lowly when you nod, rubbing your clit in soothing circles whilst kissing your cheek. you whimper, whining at the newfound attention to your clit. you can only grip the sides of the bathtub, cornered in and useless against your kidnapper.

“please–stop!” a hearty chuckle leaves könig at your sight of misery, your fear. the tortue he's inflicting apon you and your poor, virgin body.

“you have nothing to be afraid of, my dear...” despite his promises, you could see past his smirk, knowing exactly what he had in store for you.

könig bundled you up into the towel, holding you in bridal style before placing you down at the edge of the bed. he threw the towel open from your body so that you were laying against it. the rough texture against your soft skin while he swirls his throbbing dick around your tight entrance. you whimper, squirming and shaking at the pleasure before he eases inside mercilessly. your nerves through the roof.

he doesn't care. not about your pleasure, but about the tightness of your pussy around his big dick. he's just so hard, so, so fucking hard as he pushes deep inside, pressing against your womb as he repeatedly begins thrusting into you. you cry out, thrashing beneath him to no avail as his grip on your hips only tightens, pushing you down against the bed :(

“stop-please, i don't want it!!” you whimper out, fearful and trembling, pussy throbbing and pulsing uncontrollably around him, only driving him more insane, giving him more power and control as he uses the way your body reacts against you. your pussy can't seem to stop drooling, what's the issue? he's just making sure his princess is treated right.

“look at you, you can't even deny that you're enjoying this.” he huffs out when he feels your folds wrap and tighten around his fat cock, continuously driving his huge cock into your virgin pussy relentlessly. no pity or mercy, and sure as hell no sympathy as you continue squirming despite being asked repetitively to stay still for him. so he can use you, just how he thinks you like.

you don't want this, none of it. but when he pinches your hardened, swollen nipples while bullying his thick and veiny dick into your weeping, raw cunt, you can't help but moan and pant, arousal dropping from your sex as he grinds against you.

“...no-no more...” you pant breathlessly. so sore, aching and bruised. his rough pace doesn't stop, not even for a second. slapping your face harshly as you grew more dumb and dizzy from his cock. he didn't want you to miss a second of this.

“don't pass out on me, engel, i won't stop even if you're unconscious...” you sob out at his words, choked and silenced when he wraps his large and calloused hand around your throat, making you babble out at the burning, rupturing sensation in your core.

so, so callous and careless as he leaves you whimpering and sensitive.

[shutupineedtothink]

Alright, y’all really got me goin on this “we’re still in the trial” idea, so here’s the potential evidence:

Spoilers below the cut in case I turn out to be right lol.

The color grading when they got back on the road was Weird. Almost orange, when the road has been very blue tinted overall this whole time

Maybe the orange-y ness is because there’s still a blood moon but we didn’t pan up to see it?

Or maybe its just visual code for “this is not the real Road”

Jen and Alice both came out of their trials having gained something, confidence for Jen and freedom (from the curse) for Alice. Agatha really walks out with nothing except more trauma. If we go with the theory that the Road is making them deal with their trauma in order to overcome it, then the trial isn’t over. Agatha has more work to do. (We have to face our worst fears.) On the other hand, maybe Agatha just failed her trial. Maybe that means she gets another one later. Idk.

I keep wondering where we would go back to if we were still in the trial, and I think it’s when they first spelled DEATH with the ouija board and Rio laughed. At that point, everything that happened after that was her game to play. She knows Agatha’s past, and she’s trying to get her to face her inner demons, show some fucking vulnerability, and acknowledge that maybe she wasn’t born evil. Rio (and/or The Road) wants her to face her past so that she can show up as her real self, the Agatha she’s known all along 👀 (and to get Agatha to stop freaking running away from her). Rio’s still the only one who sees her (te veo), even Agatha can’t see herself. Rio exists separate from the events of the trial, and yet she’s still on Agatha’s side, being the protector she needs even as everyone else is slowly turning against her. With a little bit of crazy/murderous intent thrown in of course bc that’s how she is.

Also can’t get over the look Rio throws at Agatha as she climbs the ladder to get out of the house. It reads as frustration to me, like really, you’re running away from this again? You’re gonna keep pushing this down and repeating the same old patterns instead of facing your trauma again? Jesus fuck what do I have to do to get through to this woman.

I was originally thinking this was playing out as is due to the fact that we end on Teen/Billy and his powers, with Agatha basically gone. But then it occurred to me that those last few minutes were truly her worst fear manifested, that he began to hate her, turned on her, and became evil himself, partly due to her own taunting. Her worst fear is that SHE will turn the boy she thinks could be her son evil, passing it down because it’s an innate thing inside her, just like her mother said.

Bonus points: IF we’re still back in the trial, Alice isn’t dead, Jen was never quite as vicious as all that (that was Agatha’s own mind berating her), and Teen is still “Teen” and never went on a murder spree to kill the coven. But imo, everyone still remembers this version of events, which makes for some hella interesting character moves all around. Particularly for Alice, Teen, and Agatha. I actually have a whole headcannon for how this plays out, but idk if I should share it or not, because it will be ALL the spoilers if it happens.

Thoughts?

[laiiaaa]

A NICE NIGHT — CARMEN BERZATTO

summary Carmen happens to meet a stranger at the party Claire takes him to. A brief conversation is shared during a cigarette break.

length 2k

contents literally just nonsense, not infidelity but sorta toying with the idea idk????, inside Carm’s mind (he’s a nervous wreck), reader is a food journalist bc i just think the pairing is cute, Claire slander lowkey…look i just want Carmen to meet some random person organically and bond without feeling pressured to like them :/ very self indulgent :/ baby bear :/

Carmen’s not sure why he agreed to come here: a party with people he doesn’t know and doesn’t particularly care to, too much drinking, too much conversation, too much noise.

He’s trying not to hate it completely, he really is, but there’s that nagging in the back of his mind that just screams unwanted. And maybe a little regretful, or undeserving, or unsure of himself. He wants to like it here. He wants to tolerate it for Claire. Maybe. Maybe just a few more minutes. Maybe a few with a cigarette.

He’s lucky to find the backyard more or less empty, save for red solo cups and beer bottles thrown askew—and a girl standing against the railing, back to the house to face a dark canvas. At least this is better than the mess inside.

Playing it safe, he leans against the railing on the opposite side of the steps, figures it sends a message. We don’t have to talk. Or, more accurately, I don’t really want to. He feels that familiar itch crawling down to his fingertips and pulls out his pack, pops out a cigarette and props it between his lips. He pats down his pockets. And again. He pats down his jacket. And again. 

Fuck…

“Do you need a light?”

His head turns in her direction. Did I say that out loud? She’s looking at him, expectant. He must have. “Yeah, I, uh, it must’ve slipped from my pocket or somethin’.” He can’t tell whether he’s more on edge in a crowded room or in a conversation alone.

She walks over to him in a few steps, clad in a black leather jacket that catches his eye. Her cheekbones glow in the pale yellow haze seeping outside from within the house, and her lips are glossy and a little tinted like she’s just eaten cherries. Not that he’s paying any of this any mind; she’s only offered him a glimmer of her flame. She reaches into her jacket pocket and pulls out a bright blue BIC lighter, like one of hundreds he’s lost or forgotten about over the years.

“Thanks,” he mumbles, and she nods in response, turning back to the yard just a foot away this time, taking a drag. A metallic flick gives him his fill and his nerves subside only slightly. He fiddles with the lighter for a moment, watching her almost, before extending his arm. “Here.”

She peeks over her shoulders, shakes her head lightly, and looks back. “Nah, you keep it.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah, don’t worry ‘bout it.”

He pockets it and inhales. “Thanks.”

She hums and it quirks up into a smile. “You, uh…” Another pull and plume of tobacco. “You do this typa thing often?” Carmen pauses, and she must take it as confusion. “Y’know, like…” The hand holding the cigarette makes a few circles as she turns her body towards him. “Parties. Kickbacks?” An eyeroll, a shrug of the shoulders he thinks is playful. “I dunno what the fuck this even is.”

“No,” he chuckles, and he thinks it comes a little easier than usual. A little lighter. “I-I don’t.”

“Yeah.” She sighs and smiles back at him, looks him in the eye for a blip of time. “Me neither.” Backing up, she moves down onto the first step and sits. She offers her name nonchalantly, adds by the way to the end of the introduction while shooting a look up at him.

“Carmen,” he offers. He clears his throat and steps closer. Am I supposed to sit with her? He chooses to stay standing.

She scoots to the side until she meets the railing, turns her hips to prop her legs along the step below, crossed at the ankle. Leather boots hit an inch or two below her knees. “You can sit here if you want.” Her head pivots toward the house to eye the furniture—two dingy lawn chairs and a collapsible table—and she takes another hit off her cigarette. “Not much place else.”

He nods, smiles because he thinks it’s the right move, and tries to sit down coolly. A few beats pass and he doesn’t know what to do in the silence. “Do you know anybody here?” he asks, lending a glance before looking down at his feet.

“Not really. A friend dragged me here to get me away from work. She’s busy actually talking to people.”

He smiles to himself, a gentle one hidden behind the collar of his jacket that makes his chest warm. I know the feeling. “I dunno anyone either. I, uh…” Fingers run through his hair to the nape of his neck. “A friend dragged me here, too.” A friend… The syllable feels heavy rolling off the tongue. Is that the right word for it?

“Really.” She smiles and exhales. “How come?”

“Uh…” He lets out an airy laugh, mouth tightening into a half-smile as he looks at her while still messing with the back of his hair. “To get me away from work, I think.”

A quiet giggle makes him think he could be doing something right for once—like maybe the whole social thing doesn’t have to be so hard, and he doesn’t have to be the funniest person in the room, and he doesn’t have to try and carry the weight of a conversation. Maybe he can just be.

“What do you do for work?”

Here we go again… He lets the question simmer for a beat. It’s an uncomfortable one: he doesn’t make money, the prestige is anything but, part of him shrivels up when he has to see the reaction. Another inhale before he ashes his cigarette. “I’m a chef,” he says, though it’s quiet. Ashamed.

“Oh, really?”

His heart drops. Maybe he thought better of a situation than he should’ve. “Heh, yeah, it’s not—it’s not, uh…” It’s not that special. Half of what I do is fuckin’ pointless. No, I don’t make a lot of money. Thanks for fuckin’ asking. 

“No, no, I think it’s cool.” She tilts her head to the side, another soft thump of laughter to break the tension. She doesn’t seem to mind too much. “I’m a, uh…” She looks to her hands, snubs out the last of her cigarette that’s burnt down to the filter. “I’m a food journalist, so—or, whatever you’d call it—just a writer now, maybe? I don’t even know at this point…” 

There’s an exhalation that has Carmen thinking that for once someone feels like he does—a quick-beating heart, jittery hands, an embarrassment unique to someone whose passion is a shame to a respectable world. 

“What I’m saying is, I’m not judging.”

His brows lift, a subtle nod—half relief, half surprise. “You’re not.”

“Correct.”

A comfortable silence. A few more plumes of tobacco escape his mouth before he realizes he can’t remember the last time he smoked more than half a cigarette. He likes a quick fix, just a taste of it to make the nerves go down before getting back to work; he doesn’t take it slow, enjoy the pull, indulge in the company of someone else. He doesn’t usually have someone else. 

He looks at her again, and for a blip of time he thinks she’s gorgeous, her head gently turned to the side, a barely-there smile adding warmth to the space between them. Part of him is thankful she hasn’t gone back inside, and he doesn’t bother wondering whether she’s staying because she wants to enjoy a crisp night in a bit of quiet, or if her friend isn’t all that much of a friend, or anything else. He’s here with Claire, anyway. He’ll be back with her any moment now, and he’s not sure whether he wants that moment to come. He likes it out here, in the dim light, away from the bustle, stumbling through a conversation with someone who isn’t running miles ahead. It’s not buried under a past that’s grueling to dig up.

So he goes out on a bit of a limb and asks, “What do you write about?”

She looks at him then, mouth open only slightly like she didn’t think he’d ask. “The food industry, mostly. Ethics, culture, history, that typa stuff.” A pause before she adds, with a bit of a tanginess to it, “Not recipes, or cookbooks, or anything like that. Might not be your style.”

“Not my style?” A crinkle forms between his brow, his lips curl up at the corners, gaze shoots down to his feet again.

“What, you’re reading Gastronomica in your free time, Chef?”

He strangles out a breath that’s somewhere between a laugh and a cough, making her smile. “Gastronomica?”

He tries not to think about it too much. Even in his professional prime he wouldn’t fuck with journalists; they were too prying, too nosy, asked the wrong questions about the wrong things. Who cares where his love of cooking came from? Is it a good dish, or is it not? 

This is different though. He’s not entirely sure why. Just that it is.

She offers a shrug, and a dismissive smile to follow that slowly wanes. “Doesn’t mean much in the real world, though.”

Self-deprecating. “I get that…” Too well. “It’s the same, bein’ a chef, y’know? It’s, uh, not a lotta money.”

She hums. “Not at all. I still like it, obviously, but—y’know, my parents would’ve been a lot happier had I…” A beat of laughter, sardonic and a little self-loathing. “I dunno, become a fuckin’...a fuckin’ doctor, or somethin’.”

He smiles to himself. A doctor…Claire’s gonna be a doctor. Respectable, easy to confess about. Not a lotta shame there.

“Sorry. I shouldn’t be complaining like that to you; I don’t even know you.”

“No, no I get it. I know what you mean.” He nods and watches his hands before looking back. “The, uh, the judgment. I get that.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. But, uh, it…it’s nice,” he admits, looking her in the eye, “It’s nice to meet someone who’s in that—that world, y’know?”

She hums and smiles in a way that makes his chest flutter. In a way that makes him think he’s understood. In a way that makes him painfully confused as to how he even broached the topic with someone who’s little less than a stranger.

The back door opens, and light spills onto the porch. Heads turn to inspect.

“Carm?”

Claire.

He freezes before sparking up a smile. “Hey,” he answers. It’s been too long since ashing his cigarette; he flicks it to the ground, standing up and turning to face his…friend. 

She takes a few steps yet stays tethered to the door. Music booms from inside and just the thought makes Carmen’s head throb. Her gaze flickers from him, to the girl sat on the steps, and back. “You made a friend?” Her grin feels mocking, almost accusatory.

“N-No—” he shakes his head, turns to look at the girl standing up— “Just, uh…”

“Just lent him a light,” she fills in. He watches her dust off her skirt, adjust her slouched over jacket, check her phone for a second before she looks back up at him. She smiles at him and looks at Claire with the same expression. “I’m headed out, though, so…” Her face softens when she looks at him again, and he wants to think it’s for a reason. “Have a nice night.”

His mouth goes dry before he remembers his manners. “Yeah, uh, you too.” 

“Thanks.” Her boots make a satisfying click as she descends, her hand an axis around which she pivots the railing to leave through the gate. He wonders where she’s going, whether she drove here herself separate from her friend, if she’s going to wait for an Uber to pick her up. If she'll ever visit The Bear once it's open.

“So,” Claire starts, grabbing for his attention again. “Ready to go?”

He nods, mumbles a hushed Yeah, and heads toward the door. She bares her teeth in a smile as she looks him in the eye and hovers an open hand near his. He follows her back inside where the music consumes his thoughts and the bass rattles through his shoes. 

After letting the air hang between their hands for a moment, he tucks them away into his pockets, thumbing away at his new lighter.

[dabisbratz]

can we cam up? eren yeager x male reader

w.c: 4.3k

genitalia terms: dick, cock, hole, fuckhole, cunt (1 time), pussy (1 time)

WARNING: spit, blowjob, rimming, anal (obvi), creampie, dirty talk, humiliation, filming, degradation, humiliation, nerd!eren, jock!reader, intoxication, may read kinda dubious but it’s 100% consensual, light d/s dynamic, alcohol, weed mention, dumbification, eren compares you to a hentai character one (1) time bc he’s deranged

a/n: i was kicking my feet twirling my locs screaming into my pillow writing this and it shows. also eren has a BIIIIG phat crush on you but i didn’t wanna get too into it… you definitely remember him, probably even sexted him w/o even knowing it was him

Let’s get one thing straight: You're not an arrogant man. Not at all— in fact, you’d consider yourself to be quite humble. This night may be about you and your winning score, but you’re humble about it. Considerate, even. So you feel no guilt when you accidentally spill alcohol on someone’s shirt, explaining that if they can somehow find you on instagram and send a DM, you’ll pay for the laundry and potential damages. The stranger peers at you with a funny glint in his green eyes as his hands pull the wet fabric apart from his skin, his glasses falling down the arched bridge of his nose.

You shrug and wave to your teammates, your football jersey loose on your form as you make way through the frat house’s large interior. Music blares in your ears for the millionth time tonight, the bass rattling your skeletal system with each increasingly tipsy step you take. Grinding, flushed bodies invade your vision, all around you as you shimmy through the sea of bodies to pour yourself another generous shot. Cool, blue rays of strobe lights dance and flicker across your eyelids. Warm, pink rays that caress your cheek like the confines of your safety helmet, the vinyl of your mouth guards. It overwhelmed you at first, so bright and unapologetic as your eyes adjusted and focused.

Somewhere beneath the tranquil hum of alcohol flowing through your veins you can feel your phone buzz in your pocket, rippling through your skin and sobering you up just a little.

Your girlfriend.

She’d been blowing up your phone all night, something along the lines of forgetting her gift for your anniversary— what was a few weeks, anyway? — and how ungrateful you were for yours. She was a good lay, a quick way to resort to getting your dick wet on particularly lonely nights; when you couldn’t stand the sound of silence dancing around your head. But that was all.

You shake the thought of her squawking voice the second you find Connie, surrounded by sorority girls with glossed lips and pink-tinted eyes. Finding solstice in his company, they’re huddled relatively close, knit together in some sort of baked clique. He’s perched over a bong, lighter in hand as he inhales the fumes with muffled haste. Pothead.

Your hand finds the crown of his head, palm nestled in the bristles of his buzz cut. Noone is allowed to touch Connie’s hair, at least not when he’s coherent enough to stop them. It usually ends in flying fists and bruised cheekbones, but all the man sends your way is a hazy glare. Someone punching the university’s all star just isn’t a good look. Especially when he’s pretty and popular with the public.

“Do that again and I’ll throw this bong at your head.” It’s an empty threat, clear of malice and slurred on Connie’s bitten lips.

“Yeah, yeah,” You steal the smoke exuding from his mouth, swishing the fog in your mouth a few times before blowing it back into his face. “Never again. Scouts honor.”

You shoot back up, mind reeling and posture straightening as a particularly pretty cheerleader hands you a bottle of something you can’t quite make out. It’s brown and rich though, smacking against the glass as you take a swig and chase it down with Connie’s leftover beer of all things.

One thing leads to another and suddenly you’re trapped between sobriety and full on plastered drunk. You remember chugging something sickeningly sweet, despite it leaving a harsh burn in the back of your throat as you took in a deep breath of victory. There were many eyes on you, loud cheers reverberating off the walls as you’re hoisted into the air for your skillful performance and high-fived by your frat brothers. But there are those green eyes again, staring straight through you with a look you can’t quite place.

Not that you can place much. You’re shitfaced.

He smells good, you later discover. There’s a strum of wind as he pushes forward and straight by you, weaving through the crowd like he’s invisible. The swaying of bodies— the sight is still so freshly imprinted in his brain, and it makes his head swim while liquor glides across his tongue, clumsy and inexperienced. He must not get invited to parties often. Or maybe he does, and you’ve just never noticed him.

He’s quite nerdy, some sort of graphic design on his stained shirt that resembles that of a video game or cartoon logo, and a poor excuse of a beard litters his chiseled jaw. And oddly handsome, pale face flushed from the alcohol, pink and pooling at the apples of his cheeks as he stares at you expectantly. But you’re not into men, and all the shots in the world couldn’t get you to even think of advancing with one. He quirks his thick brow in passing, settling back into his seat with a depleting mumble you can’t make out under the loud music.

But the alcohol paired with the sultry music-choice is doing things to you, you can’t help but stare longer than you should when he swallows down his adams apple, throat bobbing as he downs a fruity drink. His tongue darts over his lips, quick and steady as he nods along to the bass. You’re thinking with your dick, pushing past the batting lashes of cheerleaders and curvy bodies of sorority girls until you’re uncomfortably close to the guy who won’t stop looking at you.

“Do you- do you have a staring problem?” You ask, a slight slur to your voice as your face leans in close enough to count the nerd’s lashes individually.

Just to reiterate, you’re not arrogant. In the slightest.

He jumps back in response to the evasive question, strands of hair falling over his glasses as his emerald eyes roam your face. The lines are blurring now, his nerdy, almost irritating face looks kissable and inviting— his parted lips look warm and skilled. You can smell the pineapple on his tongue, sweet and citrusy.

“You heard me,” You hiccup straight into his face, watching his gorgeous features distort into something not even remotely akin to disgust, which makes confusion rack your brain. “Do you talk, or what?”

Your tongue is sharp, much to Eren’s chagrin. You’re too pretty to talk to people like that, especially him. He may look the way he does, but that doesn’t mean you can talk to him like that. It’s not like he can’t recognize a brat when he sees one. Usually, you’re a bubbly team player— everyone likes you, even if they say they don’t. Still, he shakes his head, humoring your drunken irritation. He understands, at least a bit, as he has a natural temper of his own.

Truthfully, Eren has been keeping his eyes on you for the past millennia. It started when he accidentally walked in on your practice, a sunny day that simply got brighter when he saw your face, cheerful and bright as you joked along with your teammates— Jean, Reiner, Levi? Was it? It didn’t matter, his focus was on you.

You and your sinfully tight compression shorts. You and your hands that curl into fists as you grasp at his sheets like a lifeline, as if holding them tight will somehow keep him inside of you, right where he belongs.

You and your stupid football that’d smacked him right in the face at full speed. But it was in his favor, you came running over apologetically as he rubbed away the blooming bruise. Your voice was sweet then, a melodic chirp that he couldn’t stop thinking about since then. He wants to hear it break.

It seems you too always meet at the expense of his dignity. But not tonight.

“Your phone is buzzing,” Eren grunts, sliding his glasses back up his nose and turning his head away. His glasses are fogged up, but it might just be saving his pride. He’d rather not get hard in front of the person he’s been fantasizing about for the past few months, not when you clearly had no recollection of him. He doesn’t blame you. “My bad. I’m not, yknow, stalking you or anything.”

“Oh, because staring for hours and stalking are very different things,” You’re staring at his lips now, ignoring the vibration in your hand. The second your phone screen lights up you slam it face-down into your front pocket. There isn’t an ounce of remorse in his voice, like his response is calculated and open-ended. “What if I like that?”

Your eyebrows wiggle, even with the mind splitting sensation of your brain beating against your skull. Almost as hard as your heart hammering in your chest. Eren’s scoff is barely audible over the music, but the comment has his heart racing.

You pull him in by the collar of his t-shirt, fists bunched up in the dark fabric as your lips press against his. It’s feverish and sloppy, your teeth occasionally grazing his own. His mouth is hot and wet, fruity essence on his tongue as it slips past your lips and into your mouth. You’ve never had a kiss feel this good. He nips at your bottom lip, pearly teeth digging into the skin until he feels you make an embarrassingly high pitched noise in your throat.

There’s a twinkle in his teal eyes as his posture straightens, slowly leaning back to catch a breath of fresh air (as fresh as it can get, anyway). You watch him readjust his position, lifting his hips instead of his actual body, practically rutting into the thickening air as he shifts. His bubblegum lips curl into a lazy smile as his fingertips circle the rim of the red solo-cup he’s been drinking from. “What if I like you?”

Your breath catches in your throat.

“Your phone just doesn’t shut up, does it?” There’s clear agitation in his voice, his arched eyebrows furrowed as your feet carry you somewhere much more secluded. Eren trails behind you, his eyes glued on the mound of your ass as you walk. He has to help you occasionally, without even knowing the layout of the place, just so you don’t fall over. The light shine of your phone screen emits across your hip, and he can see the contact of whoever it is that’s so deeply desperate for your attention.

Too bad it’s all on him.

“I’m a pop— popular man.” You finally respond, shutting the door behind you to what Eren assumes is your bedroom in the frat house. It’s between two other bedrooms and across from three more, with a sizable closet that holds more trophies than clothing.

“Can see why, pretty mouth like that,” The words slip before he can think, but it’s worth it to see the way you oh, so conveniently hiccup in response. The implication of you being some type of campus whore makes your throat feel tight, and you can’t help but twitch in your tight pants. “Talks a lot of shit, though.”

“You talk too much.” Correction: he doesn’t talk enough. But you shut him up with a kiss anyway, hungry and frantic because whatever this is, whatever you feel when you look at him, you don’t want it to end. His hands travel under your shirt, cold from his previous icy drinks, and you squirm under his palms. He spreads goosebumps across your skin, and when his fingers brush the bud of your nipples you can’t help but jolt where you stand.

A malicious grin snakes across Eren’s face, all teeth and predatory as he runs his tongue over his sharp canine teeth. “Been thinking about fucking you for weeks. The whole time we were talking, all I could think about was shoving you down on my dick.”

Oh. Your cock aches at that, which is almost already too much for you, you’ve never done this before. Not with a man, not with someone who looks at you like they’re going to devour you whole. You swallow hard, alcohol dispelling from your body the more blood rushes south, and suddenly you’re on your knees, unbuttoning Eren’s jeans with trembling hands.

The door locks behind you, a small click that only the two of you can hear. You look back up at the nerd, who’s watching you intently with a smirk.

He’s a complete juxtaposition to his appearance— if you were a bad man you’d call him a loser, but he exudes dominance and power. You want to wiggle under his gaze, shifting your weight between knees. Eren’s large hands cradle your face, oddly tender and affectionate as he rubs your cheekbones, slowly sliding them to the sides of your head. He lifts your gaze, forcing eye contact.

His glasses hang low on his nose, clouded from his breath as he lets out a satisfied sigh. You want to pull on his hair, flyaways barely reaching the base of his neck as the rest remains in a ponytail.

“This okay?” His tone is beyond sincere.

“Yeah,” You breathe, momentarily losing yourself in the forest of his irises. Blinking rapidly, Eren removes his hands from your head to free himself from his jeans, his long cock decorated in a small vein that disappears below his head. It’s pretty, arched against his stomach and dripping onto his shirt. The leaking precum makes you wonder how long he’s been hard. “Yeah. This is—this is more than okay.”

“Open,” It’s more of a command than anything, Eren’s very hands on, his fingers slipping into your mouth to pull at the corners of your mouth. Your tongue covers your teeth, your mouth watering as his salty fingertips graze your tongue. His other hand is busy working at the head of his cock, twisting smooth circles over the slit until it crashes down against your tongue. Again, and again, and again. “Good boy.”

You find yourself drooling on your jersey, sucking in a deep breath through your nose as his tip rests on your tongue. He goes slow at first, letting you suck on the tip while his fist roams his shaft. You’re a big boy, he knows you can handle much more than just the head— even if he is thick. Your eyes water immediately, gagging instinctually as he shoves his dick deeper into your mouth. “Say thank you.”

Before you can pull away with an answer, both hands return to the back of your head, holding you in place. He encourages you to breathe through your nose, cooing at your inexperienced efforts to catch the drool escaping your mouth, and even goes as far as to wipe one of your tears, “Gonna thank me? F’letting you be such a good, warm n’ wet hole for me?”

You feel yourself nodding, blinking hazily as he rocks in and out of your mouth. There’s a sound you don’t recognize coming from your throat, squelching and soaked, and it has you whimpering on the mouthful of cock. You don’t mean to make such a pitiful noise, but it feels so good, letting yourself go a little brainless over a cute boy.

You slurp loudly— not on purpose, but it earns a throaty chuckle from the man above you. He pulls out to let you breathe, his cock slowly sliding up your throat and past your lips until all you can do is whine and lean forward, lips wet with spit. The tears in your eyes spill unabashedly, your face nearly crashing against his dick.

“Thank you.”

“Hm? For what?”

You want to groan, to bang your fists against the wall because he’s being so mean. He knows what you mean, you know what you mean. Regardless, still focused on his cock just inches away from your face, you moan against nothing. It’s a light noise, breathy and quiet but effective enough to make his cock jump. “Please, please— I mean- fuck, thank you for letting me be…yours.”

Eren tuts, feigning annoyance as he grips your chin between his fingers, digging into the soft skin so you’re actually focused on his face. You smile into his palm, eyelashes batting against your cheek and he just can’t help but spit onto your cheek.

“What, d’you just go dumb the second you see some dick?”

You’re barely listening, instead grinding against the fabric of your jeans because his touch treatment has you feeling some kind of way. “Does your girlfriend know her boyfriend’s a cockslut too? Does she know other boys spend their nights getting your holes wet, fuckin’ you in the same bed?”

It’s much easier to hear the vibrations in your pocket now that you’re alone, the only barrier between you being the muffled music on the other side of the door. Eren’s hand leaves your jaw, and you have no complaints when he helps you to remove your jeans.

The jersey can stay on, though. He wants to fuck you in it.

He pushes you into your bed, watching you bounce in the mattress in nothing but your jersey, and helps himself into solely his birthday suit. You’re just as exposed, seemingly moreso, as he pulls your bottom half into his lap. It’s an odd position, not anything you’re used to, maybe your exes and past hookups— but never you.

Eren hunches over, his breath tantalizingly close to your hole. First, he licks a fat stripe across the surface, holding your thighs open when they threaten to instinctively close. You can’t prop yourself up on your elbows at this angle, your feet dangling over his shoulders while he holds you up. The nerd is stronger than he looks.

His tongue is hot and wet, and you feel yourself clenching when a glob of spit lands on your hole. He massages it in with his ring and middle finger, and your body finds itself squirming against his touch. You expect fingers, one at first, maybe, then another. But instead he uses his tongue, lets it dip inside and lap at your insides. Eren looks hungry, his eyebrows furrowed in concentration as he spreads you open and holds you there with an iron grip. A punched-out “Eren!” leaves your lips the second his tongue is lapping you up, leaving tingles up your spine and smog in your brain.

He kneads his fingers into the fat of your thighs, nipping occasionally where your skin folds into your ass, just to get another choked whine out of you. And, oh, you whine. The intrusion isn’t unwelcome, in fact, the feeling of Eren’s face slick with his spit as he tries to get his tongue as deep as he can into you makes your toes curl. You fist your bedsheets, finding comfort in the pillows you’re pressed into, and go as far as to hold yourself open for the man while he goes to grab something.

“Oh, baby. You shouldn’t have,” You shiver at the sound of his dark chuckle, and squeal when his ring finger finds a spot next to his tongue. “Look at that. Hole’s leaking. You just sit here and look pretty while I fuck it on my tongue, hm? Think you can do that?”

“Mhmmm, mhm, yeah! I can— I can do that, ‘Ren.” You sound like a bitch, with your nose buried in your pillow as you moan with every brush to that special spot inside of you. Your cock jumps against your stomach, leaking into your belly button and down your chest. Your jersey is ruined, but so are you, especially when Eren rubs your cock once, twice—

Holy shit. You’re cumming.

“That’s it, come on, give it to me.” Your jersey catches it all, right over your reserved number and embroidered nameplate. Your brain is too fried for you to care, tears streaming down your face as your hole flutters on his tongue and fingers. Sensitive now, moreso than you were before, you whimper and shimmy in Eren’s lap, simultaneously moving toward and away from his touch. He keeps you where you are though, staring at your blissed out face through clouded glasses and licking his lips like he’s just finished eating the best meal he’s ever had. And as if that’s not enough to have you cumming again already, he places an open-mouthed kiss to your puffy hole just for good measure.

“You felt so soft on my tongue, fuck, I almost busted right on you,” His cheeks are pink, and the rosy shade blooms down his neck and disappears into his chest. He pulls you forward by your wrist, sucking on your tongue and licking over your lips so you can taste yourself. He’s gonna be the death of you.“Bet this hole’s gonna be even softer. Nice and warm while you take my cock. Gonna let me cum inside? Pump that soft cunt full until it’s all creamy and used?”

He’s so filthy, so unashamed. The nickname doesn’t go unheard, and despite the slutty moan that you let out in response, part of you wants to pinch him just for that. Damn Eren and his shameless mouth! But you nod anyway, an everlasting stream of ‘yesyesyes’ floating in the air as he lines himself up to finally give you what you’ve been gagging for so prettily.

Eren just can’t help himself. Not when you’re folded up and presenting yourself to him like this. Not when your eyes are wide and your lips are parted and you’re letting out such pretty sounds. Sounds that belong to him. Plus it’s not all on him, you’re the one with an unlocked phone. You’re the one with space in your camera roll.

He’s sure the camera is shaky, maybe even a little blurry, but he makes sure to get your face in it, fucked-out and crosseyed as he pounds his dick into you, keeps you steady with his hand on your jaw. A string of precum connects you together, pooling at your ass and Eren’s thighs as his hips crash down, yours convulsing upward to meet him halfway. It’s a bit half-assed on your part, but who’s gonna blame the guy getting fucked stupid?

“‘Ren, you’re,” You sob in disbelief, eyes rolling along with your hips. “You’re— ohh, you’re fuckin’ me.”

He smiles down at you, feral and heated as he buries himself to the hilt inside you, his balls slapping against the curve of your ass. He never seems to stop, always chasing that feeling of you clamping down on him even when you’re almost too sensitive to take it. “That’s right, I’m fuckin’ you. Just how you like it, hm? Right in your fuckhole. S’what it’s there for, right?”

“That’s—“ Absurd? Vulgar? Objectification? It’s hot. It’s hot and you know it, Eren knows it, and your dick sure as hell knows it too because you can feel your next orgasm coming. “Yeah. N’my fuckhole.”

He makes a pleased sound in response, groans and pants joining your moans when he speeds up, his slow and deep strokes becoming fast and hollow, pounding that sensitive spot deep inside you over and over and over. “Should train you to take this dick.”

“Hold on,” Despite looking straight at him you can’t understand what he’s saying, not until his glasses are placed over your eyes and you’re blinking away the prescription blur. You struggle to collect yourself, wailing as you reach for his free hand that begins to nestle between your jawline and your neck. He squeezes affectionately, lets you cry and arch on his cock while he breathlessly sighs, “You look straight outta my favorite hentai.”

And, technically, you’re making a sextape now. A tape that showcases closeups of his cock disappearing deep inside you, pummeling your puffy hole until it carves the shape of his dick into you. Until only Eren can fit, big and thick and unbelievably deep. A tape that has you, a popular and well-known straight jock, crying on the dick of a guy you just met.

“Eren, m’gonna… ‘Ren—” You may as well scream, your body tensing as you spray across your chest — when did your jersey get bunched up enough to expose you like that? — sticky cum shooting out your spent cock until you’re twitching, handsfree and body ablaze. He doesn’t let up, castelon eyes narrowed as he fucks you through it, watching more cum squirt from your cock, milking himself for all he’s worth. “Inside, wanna be full, I deserve it, please, Rennie.”

He bounces you a few times, watching you fall back onto his cock until he feels himself aching hard, hard enough to start cumming inside you. It’s the nickname that gets him, groaning loud as he pumps a load inside you. It’s messy, and downright pornographic watching his cum leak out of you, just for him to fuck it back in with the head of his dick. It’s clear you feel proud of yourself for making him tremble inside you, and Eren takes the opportunity to scrapbook the memory.

“C’mere,” He’s not asking, simply pulling you closer to the camera so it can focus on your cum-stained face. “Smile for me, baby. Tell your ‘girlfriend’ how much you like it in your pussy too.”

[spinnysocks]

Humanized!Skinks plus personality headcanons!!

inspired by @devilsrecreation's post! i've just done the underdeveloped members of shupavu's group :)

Nyeusi:

the sneaky guy! i really like him but there's not much i can think of to say about him, except i imagine he's kinda-friends with neema and ed in nikki's hc/au where the original hyena clan comes back. i think he'd be good at dissing people, and them not even knowing :)

Nyata:

possibly my favourite design?? it was unintentional but i made her a little similar to nyeusi which is fun because i imagine they're a duo like shupavu and njano are, especially because they're the fastest skinks. i imagine they're competitive fuckers and keep trying to beat each other in races

Female Skink:

i think i'm going to headcanon her name to be Nyororo, which means "soft" or "smooth", because of her voice! the only thing we know about her lol. i also picked the name because it matches nyeusi and nyata. while making her i started liking the flowery design so i've headcannoned that she'd dress up all flowery-looking to help decieve people into thinking she's sweet, along with her smooth voice. admittedly i was getting kinda sick of green, and i noticed she has a slight blue tint around her eyes, so i gave her a little clip! why not :)

Waza:

i'm actually really happy with this design, or maybe i just like blue lol. i found out that Waza means "mediate" so i'm wondering if he's the mediator of the group in some way. he doesn't talk, but he isn't shown to communicate using his tongue like nyeusi does, so i'm wondering if he literally just shakes his head at others when he dissaproves of what they're doing 😭 he could communicate with head and tail movements, because he's the keenest of sight he would alert the others of what he sees in silence

Male Skink:

i'm going to go ahead and headcannon this guy's name as Hasira, meaning "vex" or "angry" because literally the only notable thing about him is his constant grumpy face. i've also headcannoned him and Waza as friends, and i think Hasira and Waza sounds nice. because of his supposed grumpiness i wonder if he might be one of the older members of the group. like a reluctant adult around a bunch of rowdy teenagers kinda vibe. who knows, he's completely free reign for personality like waza lol

not sure if i'm 100% happy with the designs but that's bc i'm a perfectionist- the picrew didn't have too many colour options but i think everyone looks alright despite that. btw hair was completely random bc i don't fucking know 😭 i hope you liked tho :)

i used this picrew <3

[labellemel]

Eleanor Grace Devereux

i.e. bright blessing from Évreux

Nickname: Elle

Occupation: Freshman at Yale University, specializing in Humanities and Social Sciences, English

Hamartia: Idealism

Main routes: D (or W)

my father's love was always strong. my mother's glamour lives on and on. yet still inside, I felt alone. for reasons unknown to me.

Eleanor "Elle" Devereux is known, above all things, for her warmth. Friendly and welcoming, she strives to make people feel comfortable with gentle smiles and nurturing words. It doesn't matter if she has this chasm no one can fill inside of her. It doesn't matter if she constantly feels trapped by the darkness within her. Like the name branded to her, Elle seeks to become a sanctuary—a warm flame to help anyone feel at home.

Though her accomplishments many, perfect in every way, Elle remains humble to a fault. She sees herself as just another girl chasing her dream, even if said dream was to please her father, to meet his and everyone's expectation. Finding ballet, though, is a revelation to her, passion ignited through its disciplined beauty. She loves reading stories; it doesn't occur to her that she will also love telling stories with her body.

Despite her cautious nature, Elle cannot help but be drawn to dangerous dreams. But betrayed by her ex-boyfriend and hated by her one-sided crush can make you weary of what-ifs and rose-tinted lines. Perhaps that's the reason why she accepted Dumitru's invite, leaving her usual world of formalities behind. Would this end up with her getting heart broken again? That's up to fate to decide.

Appearance

Hair: Waist-length, wavy red that changes to orange under sunshine—imbued with sunset. Almost always laced with ribbon.

Eyes: Deep ocean blue, swirling with iciness infused with warmth within.

Complexion: Pale, almost porcelain with softness that looks delicate to touch, as if it would crack with single cruelty.

Height: 5'4 (163 cm)

Aesthetic: Cottagecore—floral dresses, puffed sleeves, cardigans, laces and ribbons.

Characteristics

Nationality: French / British / American

Zodiac: Taurus

MBTI: ISFJ

notes: no bc the way i can't stop thinking of this if like i need dumitru so bad 😭 my oc with d is the equivalent of he was a punk she did ballet but make it full of angst and stupid mistakes bc college *shrug* seriously tho check this out this if at @childrenofcain-if if you love alex stern, college stories or idk hot ppl in general

[jaelaxies]

𝟏𝟐:𝟎𝟎

12:00

fluff; wc: 635.

Soobin x fem reader!;good sugary fluff; friends to lovers au!; makeup artist au!; tw: none.

Song recommendation:  Daylight — Taylor Swift. (lover)

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　　 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　　 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　　 *:･

—Choi Soobin!

She cupped his cheeks softly, making him look even more cute in the dim light of the room. The only other thing that was distracting in every sense was the mess of different reflections of glitter in transparent components, but Soobin couldn’t be more focused on anything but making sure he wasn’t as red as a rose and the way his best friend was chewing at her lip, so concentrated on delicately placing her fingers on his skin. A very childish yet adorable smile adorning her features. — I told you to stay quiet!

When she called him at 10:00 pm, practically begging him to come for help; this isn’t what he had in mind, nor did he expected other stuff, but surely, being a model wasn’t one of them and his body just had to react to her. To her touch. Because what a big boy he was with a crush he didn’t want to confess yet. After shooting her a playful glare and a huff, he shifted closer. Just an inch, because he really did wonder if she could hear his loud and thumping heartbeat.

Another soft dab at his cheeks, she inched closer to his cheekbones. Her minty breath suddenly grabbing his attention. The way she softly touched his skin while applying layers of glitter was as calming as a breeze, something unexpected for him. — You really suit this concept, Soobin.

Now she was grabbing his chin, her gaze locked into his. Soobin was mesmerized by the way her eyes shined even brighter than the particles she had spread all over his cheekbones and the ones who glimmered behind her in the moonlight. Her gaze was something that always made him flush; the way her round and big eyes just softened and looked at him trough long lashes and a half smile. — I’m sure you’re going to steal a lot of hearts.

She said eagerly while grabbing another jar this time with a blue tint to it, leaving his chin and face to rest for a bit. Playing with the jelly like texture of the glitter, she absentmindedly let her thoughts out of her head. — Just like you stole mine.

Wait.

Wait.

What?

She widened her eyes as she let the thought of what she had just said sink in, while Soobin snatched his look onto her figure again. She was no longer holding the jar but her sweater paws were covering her mouth; her face covered into the prettiest shade of pink, Soobin could ever describe. Is this how he always looked? And of course, he couldn’t let this one go, he couldn’t make an excuse or thought he misheard because those same big eyes were expecting an answer: silently but still pleading to hear something from him.

He did what his brain thought it was best to convey his feelings. He positioned himself closer to her and brough his plush plump lips to her cheek, kissing it softly but just for long enough to feel the warmth of her skin and the butterflies in his own stomach. As he separated himself a little bit, she reached for her cheek, still having the same bambi eyes.

— I always thought I would confess first. — He said while looking for her free hand, gently caressing it with his thumb, he could feel the heat in his face and neck but it didn’t matter to him that much right now, he always wanted to hear that. To feel this.

—Yeah, me too…— She chuckled to herself, as she intertwined their fingers this time; causing the boy to relax even more; her touch was like Midas. — But I guess I couldn’t hold it anymore.

They looked at each other and smiled, just as the clock stroked midnight, a new love story had just started.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　　 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　　 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　　 *:･

Ever since i saw these concept photos i always wanted to do a small drabble like this, bc blonde soobin and glitter and omg 🥹😌🤝🏻

Also I hope you all dont mind that I'm starting again with shorter drabbles for now; it's a temporal thingy tho, i just wanted to write again but with a plan in mind 🧘🏼

Remember that feedback is always appreciated and i love reading you guys comments! 🤍

Taglist is also open! just comment and i'll add you to it! Im sorry if somebody was in my old taglist but i kinda forgot with the whole hiatus thing.

Hoped you enjoyed reading,

xoxo, stella! ☁️🤍🪄

[noridoorman]

It's artist appreciation time cause I feel like it

I wanna start of with my bestie @hex-touchstarved even though they're not in the murder drones fandom:

Really beautiful and interesting art with the monotone colors (black n white) and has so much personality, I wanna see more u b!ch

Okay now into the murder drones artists :]

@projectanomaly - such a cute, simple and recoginzable art style and WHAT DO YOU MEAN YOU DRAW WITH YOUR FINGER ON YOUR PHONE?! Such creative ideas and designs too and I especially love the ELS drawings bc they straight up look like somebody took a screenshot of an actual animated series (AND I'M A SUCKER FOR THAT)

@ayloverlove - SO much story writing potentional with her art. Her art has so much personality in it and always looks like you can imagine a story with them. Makes top notch angst and crack drawings too and always has such fun (or angsty) ideas that she draws and it looks sooo good with her detailed art-style.

@vaneplane I'M A SUCKER FOR THE GLOW, their art always look so delicious idk why. Their shading style is so recognizablell, all the glow, the pretty colors, THE EXPRESSIONS ON THE CHARACTERS ARE SO FUN TOO.

@lumineary-arts Top notch character expressions. Her art style is so simple yet has also so much personality, especially with how she draws the way the characters pose and facial expressions. ALSO, SO CLEAN LINEART WTH???

@astronic-fr I usually never laugh at funni art except when it's astronic. How can somebody be so funny and talented at the same time?? And when he draws angsty stuff it hits SO HARD, like how can you do both and be so good at it?! The art style fits so well with the things he draws, it's so good, goofy when it needs to be and heartwrenching beautiful too

@triocat Such an unique and recognizable art style like I have never seen somebody draw like they do and it looks so good. And don't get me started on their animations like holy hell, how can somebody be so good at animating, I'd deadass watch an entire series animated by them.

@just-a-lil-otter Doesn't draw as much MD I think BUT STILL, such a cute and simple art style that always makes me happy to see. It's that type of art style that just works so well with digital and traditional art styles, idk how to elaborate lmao

@buoyanttoaster let's motivate my boyfriend to draw more CAUSE HE'S GENIUNLY REALLY GOOD AND I FR WANNA SEE HIM DRAW MORE

@lilywily143 such cute and creative ideas and comics, I'm a sucker for them. I fr think her art style would work so well as digital art too but getting stuff for that is hella expensive (sometimes)

@lilblucat idk how to describe her art, it's soo good like?? I love just watching it, I don't wanna repeat all the other points I've said ahhh but I'm really running out of things to say. I REALLY REALLY REALLY love her shading, especially the soft shading she does on some art pieces and the doodles are so cute too rahhhhh

@evanostic so cute art, I could scroll thru their profile for ages to see them :') also I'm a sucker for the blue/purple-ish tint in some of their art and the way they draw expressions and poses are so cute, so expressive and just a joy to look at

Tell me if I've missed some artists

[3motionally3xhausted]

Kiss Kiss Fall into another old hyperfixation

Anyway, I randomly wanted to redesign the main cast of Ouran in my style/ with headcanons and my own embellishments

Here's a screenshot redraw, I'll put all the redesigns below the break bc I did all the main characters & wanna talk about the choices I made. Also I made up that uniform redesign on the spot bc I when I was doing the characters I just put them in casual clothes lmao

(I might do some others later, like Renge, Kasanoda, Yasuchika, Benibara, etc.)

Going in order of my least favorite to top favorite. And dont mind that I didn't color the clothes, that's not whats important here lmao

Mori is only at the bottom because I don't like the drawing that much, I still think the design is pretty good. Though, like right when I finished coloring, I decided a bun/top-knot would look better so it's a bit disappointing there. In my head, Mori is kind of struggling to figure out who he is & what he wants to do, which is why he follows Honey around and doesn't talk much. He does genuinely like being around the other hosts though.

Also, the undercut because A) he has the reputation for being the scary one & it kinda suits that, B) uh do I even have to say it? ...its hot He does lowkey look like Sokka from Avatar tho, especially with the blue accents

(edit: I accidentally deleted Mori's file so now this is the only copy so 😭)

Honey is next because again I think the drawing itself is a little off and the design is pretty close to Basil from Omori, which i didn't notice until it was too late lmao. One of the main things I didn't like about his character in the show was obviously how childlike he was & how girls still flirted with him even though he looked and acted 6; So now he still acts a bit childish but doesn't play it up as much & definitely has a more normal voice, not a fckn child's.

Haruhi! I definitely had to keep her glasses cuz they were really cute and kinda sold the whole 'commoner' thing in a way. But other than that I mainly wanted to balance out her femininity and masculinity to make her more androgynous/nonbinary/gender-fluid since she definitely has some of that going on in the show as is. I also gave her dark circles under her eyes to kinda show that she worked really hard to get into Ouran with low status.

Next up is Tamaki of course, getting into the characters I'm most happy with the designs of. One small thing I tried to do for each of them was give them varying hair tones; so even though Honey and Tamaki are both blond, I went very platinum-blond with him. When I started drawing him, my only real thought was "he has to be a pretty boy" so I dont have much to say about my choices, but i do think I succeeded. Don't mind the modern mullet thing, I can't stop it

Kyouya is definitely one of my favorite characters as is, seeing as he has one of the more fleshed out & heart-wrenching backstories in the show. I think the only thing I really wanted to change was getting rid of the Anime Bangs, so I just gave him this kinda sleek, kinda messy pushed-back look with a blue tint. Even though it's simple, I really struggled to come up with anything, until I found a page from the author saying smth like "I don't like the idea of him wearing neat clothes" with a picture of him in like a track suit so I did kinda the same outfit

My absolute #1 favorites, Hikaru & Kauru. They're honestly the ones that started it all because Kauru has been my favorite since I first saw the halloween episode (iykyk).

I don't know why, but I wanted their hair to be fluffier/curly and more of a natural(?) ginger color. I knew I wanted Kauru's to be redder and Hikaru's a bit lighter/blonder, but only subtly. I also gave Kauru a scar on his cheek from that time in Karuizawa, but most notably, I gave them blue and pink eyes as their signature colors. Lastly, their expressions are slightly different, because no matter how much they are in sync and try to match each other perfectly, Kauru's a much gentler soul than Hikaru, so I made Hikaru's smile a bit more snarky while Kauru's is soft.

Thank you for looking at my art/ reading my thoughts, here's an extra little design edit & comparison

(lol, I think they're mimicking Kyouya in this panel idek) (Also here you can see I tried the bun hairstyle w Mori, I think it looks good, but this is a really simple drawing so.)

[firewalkzwit]

in the mood for love // neil lewis x reader

To accept that life is not David Lynch's magnificent "Blue Velvet", or much less Billy Wilder's "Double Indemnity", was not an easy thing for a man like Neil Lewis, who adored nothing more than to vicariously live through the screen time of the 50's Hollywood heartthrobs that starred as his favourite characters.

So, in the event that a Rohmerian woman whose quirk could even be seen through her yellow lens Godard-ish sunglasses, Neil found it to be an offer he couldn't refuse.

Word count: 2.8k

Cross-posted on AO3

A.N: i actually never finished watching the detectives bc i was honestly not a fan of the plot so bare with me lol, i was only too in love w cill and lucy liu's characters but the movie itself kinda disappointed me

also, yes i made them fans of MY favorite movies, arrest me.

The sound of intense tapping of nails on the counter, crowded by a disastrous attempt at organising countless VHS tapes scattered all over it, caused the plastic of the films to rattle as the table vibrated. Neil's tired eyes rolled upwards to catch a glimpse of the face before him, a slight frown drawn between her eyebrows and an intensely inquisitive stare which hardly helped him to decipher what exactly she wanted that actually merited bothering him.

The harsh placement of the VHS on his desk caused him to grit his teeth, it felt almost imperative, and it ached him to see his most prized possessions be mistreated. His eyes drifted back up to her, the yellow-tinted lens of her sunglasses still didn't stop him from finding them oddly familiar. Scanning to the rest of her clothes as if he wanted to glimpse her personality based on her looks, he felt like a detective. The black minidress on her body was rather loose, and the sleeves ended close to the start of her wrists, as if it was too short for her arms. It seemed like an intentional fashion choice, despite how unflattering it looked to him. The dress hugged her waist in the centre, with a peculiar silver belt he'd only see in the outfit of a woman in a nouvelle vague film. In fact, her entire style seemed to be the one of a sixties Parisian flâneur, as if she was ruthlessly trying to imitate Anna Karina. Over the turtleneck that culminated her dress, a thin, long golden chain that went as low as her belt had a large and round golden pendant hanging from it.

But as soon as she spoke he was disappointed to find no thick, sexy french accent, but rather an ordinary speech, almost too friendly and passive to be attractive. His eyes drifted down to the VHS on his desk; while he expected Vivre Sa Vie, le Bonheur or Pierrot le Fou, there was no La Collectionneuse on his desk, but rather the most unexpected of outcomes.

Jane Birkin would never rent a chick-flick, Neil thought.

The membership she handed did not belong to her, it was that of a man's, an old one too, judging by his name.

"Alright, that will be eight dollars."

"Jeez, eight?"

"Eight."

"You do know the other rental charges only five, right?"

"I was not aware, thank you." Not only was she of poor taste, but also quite irritating. Even though he refrained from explaining how being a smaller business practically obliged him to charge more to make an actual profit, it was before he could begin to explain the late fees that she snatched the VHS from his hand.

"I'm actually going to keep looking." And just like that, she turned and began to walk slightly bent over, looking at the orange labels that hung on the shelves. Curiosity consumed him, and he also felt it his duty as the owner of the videoclub to assist his customers in making a choice.

"Are you looking for something in particular?"

"Well... What do you have with Robert De Niro?" Neil's eyes suddenly lit up, as if her personality had a chance at salvation the moment those words came out of her mouth.

"Most of his works, there's his classics like Goodfellas, Taxi Driver... I even have Heat if you're looking for something more thrilling."

"Heat?"

"Heat is one of the most critically acclaimed nineties crime dramas. It also stars Al Pacino, it's this kinda' cop and criminal trope but so realistically achieved, even the sound of firearms is claimed to be one of the most realistic in the history of film-"

"I'll just take that one." The tip of her finger slowly grazed his as she gently took the Heat VHS from his hands, a friendly awkward grin displaying discomfort. "It's just for my dad."

"Oh... Sixteen Candles' for you I guess." A soft nasal laugh left her body as her head tilted down, shaking in denial.

"No, that's for my dad too." Ok, weird, but by then she had undeniably picked his curiosity.

"Nothing for you then?"

"I prefer a cheaper rental, this is my dad's membership." As if he couldn't see for himself that such a name would never belong to her, it could only be that of an old geezer who he still struggled to recognise even though he was a member. And even though she intended to make a subtle comment, it did not come off that way.

"Oh yeah? And what do you rent in the cheaper club?" Media Giant could have a wider offer and lower prices, but Neil assumed it wasn't a real loss if the clientele consisted of girls like her.

"I like French movies, Harmony Korine, seventies giallos... Why, you want me to rent them from you instead?" While her first pick was particularly predictable, Italian giallos were a genre he was interested in exploring, and of which he hardly had any in his extensive collection. Neil shrugged almost dramatically, trying to incite her to take yet another pick.

"It wouldn't hurt your dad. Except for the giallo part, ‘can't help you there."

"You mean you have no giallos here?" His face deformed into an awkward pout, as if he'd been defeated in his own ground. "You look like the type of guy to own them on Criterion."

"I don't think so, no." By that point, the humiliation of her light cackle upsetted and confused him even further, returning her change as she piled up the tapes.

"If you ever want to watch a good Dario Argento movie, you let me know when I return you these." And marking her goodbye with a soft grin that slightly lifted the sunglasses that rested above her cheeks, Neil was taken aback beyond speech. Was it a date? Was she joking? He couldn't quite understand, and so couldn't come up with a proper response.

But seven days passed before she returned, and he would have to charge her the late fees that added to the sixteen dollars. However, in the course of those five days Neil hardly remembered her, briefly making a comment about it to his friends. Neil was not the type of man to stress easily, and he was exercising his peace that particular afternoon as he watched the director's cut of Psycho, to him a movie that truly never got old. He snacked on the couch in a slobby posture, his limbs spread over it without a care about presentation. It was not the type of day for him to expect too many customers, and it was too hot to go outside anyway. Hardly did he ever struggle to find an excuse to stay in anyway, so when he heard the doorknob pushed down his expression shifted into a displeased grimace. His eyes peered over the backrest, displeased to find that someone had indeed come in.

As he got up and stretched, mindfully appearing to be homeless, he caught a glimpse of her again. Her head was tilted and on her hands were the two tapes she had borrowed. He was surprised to have even forgotten that he'd rented her the films, usually being more attentive about what went in and out of his club. Probably the bizarre interaction had caused him to forget. That time she wore a tiny pair of black shorts with black stockings up the knees and also black, sharp-pointed flats. The usual thick, high-waisted belt accompanied a loose sage blouse, which was accessorised with elongated collars of various unique beads, and the peculiar yellow-tinted shades. Not that Neil cared at all about fashion, nor did he understand it, but he assumed she was going for chic.

"Sorry for not coming by sooner, hope you didn't miss these." She placed the tapes on the counter and quickly began looking through her pockets for the money she assumed she'd have to pay for being two days late. Before he could tell her how much extra she owed, she placed the four dollars on top of the movies.

"How'd you know how much..." Neil's finger drew a circle above the tapes and the money, as if she was some sort of genie or simply gambling with how much he'd charge compared to his prime competitor.

"My dad." She quickly interrupted, offering him her usual small grin of politeness before making her way out. Yet by that point Neil wasn't oblivious to her previous invitation, overwhelmed by the curiosity her strange looks provoked him.

"Is... the offer for that Dario Argento still up?" He could tell she was smiling through the way her cheeks lifted, visible from behind, and the way her voice sounded. When people smile and talk, their voice accommodates to the wider lips and sound friendlier.

"Glad you asked."

It was by that point that the old-Hollywood mystery enthusiast Neil and the French new-wave, foreign murder-thriller enjoyer Y/N frequented each other in what consisted of visits to the Gumshoe Video and her place. In contrast to his original impression of her, she was quite the film collector, owning a perfect shrine that ranged from art house Kino Lorber films to a wide range of classics on Criterion. She was truly well stocked. The only thing obvious to him from the start was that she was a great enthusiast of foreign films, something she even gave away in the unique way she dressed.

She was also an occasional actress, kindly starring in the indie projects of some of her film geek friends, many who shockingly knew Neil as well. It was natural for them to have so many people in common, especially because people with mutual interests were bound to come across each other in such a small town, however he was surprised to not have seen her previously roaming around or in any of his friends' films. She had a look that just gave away she'd be into acting, the role of a muse seemed to fit her character perfectly.

Because of this, as soon as Neil began to grow an interest in impressing her, she was surprised to hear he wanted to try and film an experimental short, try his luck at producing something beyond an advertising trailer for his videoclub, something more artistic.

Obviously he invited her to star in it, and even though he'd expected her to jump in his arms in excitement, never did she show herself to be shocked or taken aback by any of the bizarre propositions he had in mind. Neil wasn't very knowledgeable or even interested in the world that existed beneath experimental indie films, but she seemed to be willing to comply with the various shots of strange ideas he sketched frantically in strangely-drawn frames.

When it was finally time to shoot, it was clear that the whole tape would be very rudimentary, using the 35mm film gauge she had offered to lend him, demanding that he treat her camera with extreme care.

Despite Neil's attempts of disclosing what exactly he had in mind, rough sketches were clearly not enough, as the minute they began to shoot and the scenes began to come to life, it became too clear to her that Neil just wanted to see her naked, behaving like a conceited filmographer in poor attempts of masking his amateurism. It was hard to imagine senior film-makers like Jean-Luc Godard, especially the favourites of Y/N, and the thousands of breast and butt-naked women takes they had witnessed being filmed in their lifetime. Neil found it hard to imagine them behaving with naturality, but then again he assumed it was the only way to behave if they were actually in search of pristine shots.

"You don't seem to be taking this too seriously." She finally scolded, her forearm hugging her chest to cover her breasts once Neil cut the cameras.

"What do you mean? I'm directing here."

"You're wasting film in countless shots of my tits, what message are you trying to convey?" Interrogation was not on his plans, especially because Neil expected artistic and abstract film to not be questioned, but rather merely interpreted.

"It's about... the beauty of the raw human body." His tone didn't project confidence, and Y/N could tell he was feeding her bull-shit.

"Okay, then I'll film you too."

"Sorry, what?"

"It's not the human body if you also don't see the male." He didn't seem too convinced, obviously it was far more amusing to simply watch than to have to partake. "You and all these film-makers are so open minded when it comes to seeing women, but there's still a taboo for the male body." Neil couldn't find in him the interest to follow her idea. Obviously she had a valid point, but he was never the type to pay attention to the underlying message behind highly interpretable films, rather driven to puzzling movies where connecting the dots until the end was the reason to get his brain working.

However, how could he disagree? By that point it couldn't get more intimate than that, and a sudden high of confidence invaded him and prompted him to begin to undress himself. He began by his shirt, clumsily taking it off and visibly embarrassed. As he begins to rid himself from his pants and underwear, feeling the lens of the camera stare at him probingly, the desire to turn back strikes him to his core. He finally stands there, exposed and naked. He tries to look defiant and confident, but he's achingly vulnerable.

The camera is delighted with his expressions, and his body is posed like he wants to bend inwards and disappear into the air, but just when the filming of his most exposed self seems to never end, the camera lowers and his eyes meet with hers, and her own naked body too.

The naturality with which she accepted being in the spotlight seemed to indicate it was not the first time she filmed something of the sort, and Neil began to wonder who exactly had been gifted with pioneering in such a scene. He, on the other hand, was awkward and hardly artistic, his skinny body and shaky blue eyes screaming how out of place he felt.

"Do you think that's good enough?"

"Yes, I can't keep lending you more film anyway."

"That was... something." As she sat on the floor naked, her back arched sideways and her legs to her left as her arm supported the body, displaying total relaxation. Meanwhile, he couldn't wait for her permission to get back dressed, staring at her clothes as he waited for her to pick them up and imply she could do the same.

"It's a great thing when you realise you still have the ability to surprise yourself. Makes you wonder what else you can do that you've forgotten about."

"American Beauty?"

"Yes." In a way, the scene did share odd similarities to the American classic. The filming of odd, regular things and their naked bodies, Neil was bound to expect what would come next would follow as in the movie. He slowly crouched and sat before her, the two sharing brief stares that felt like a lifetime. Her gaze was soft and mellow, contagiously transmitting her tranquillity to his own as he pondered on whether to make a move or not.

By that point it was obvious they were not going to leave that room without something happening before, but the decision of who would initiate the contact seemed to be difficult as the longest minute of their lives passed by them.

So when she finally accommodated her posture and began to lean closer to him, he crawled her way progressing from soft and careful movements to pounding her against the floor. The sound of bone against the wooden floor caused them both to wince, her face wrinkling in a frown of pain. It was before she could hold her head to stroke herself that his own hand slid down from her temple to the back of her head, holding her up to finally kiss her.

The kiss was long, and the sound of their lips engaging in humid contact as their tongues went in and out of each other's mouth echoed across the empty room, Neil's free hand travelling from her navel to her breast as her arms wrapped around his slender body. Her legs followed the motion, soon making her look like she hung from him, clinged to his back as he arched to reach closer to her. Her gaze ogled from the corner of her eye in search of the camera as her arm reached out, finally being released from his grip to set up and continue to film themselves, a prime example of human beauty in its most raw expression.

Needless to say that beyond physical pleasure, it was an intellectual disappointment for the two that despite their love for film, they still couldn't make sex look and feel like a scene from Body Heat, sexiness was greatly rehearsed after all.

this sucks ass i just wanted to write filmbro cillian murphy and yap about my favorite movies tbhngl

[sunnylands-world]

Hi again, I hope you're doing well :) if you don't mind could I request a short fic where the reader always gets flustered when draco calls her my love and then he notices after a while bc she always hides her face after he calls her that? Thank you!

Cherry cheeks

Pairing: draco Malfoy x reader

Summary: you're headed over to your best friend when he decides to play with your heart…

Word count: 236

Warning: use of pet names? [Gender neutral reader]

Universe: Harry Potter

A/n: I'm doing great thank you for asking 🥹 Honestly thank you so much for making this request. It was refreshing to write fluffy stuff, it's been awhile since I got a request for just fluff anyway I hope you like it!!

All mistakes are mine

Your feet tread quickly across the green and yellowish grass till you meet the oak tree your best friend sat in with the rest of the gang. you smiled widely when he looked in your direction, a sweet teasing smile on his face as he jumped down. You were always in awe seeing him do things like that but you weren't entirely sure why. He swayed a bit walking towards you causing you to giggle, hand covering the lower half of your face.

"hello my love, seems you couldn't wait to see me again" he smirked and if that wasn't enough your breath hitched and your heart swelled as you recalled what he'd just said; even if he meant nothing by it and maybe you hoped he did your cheeks still become tinted showing just how much you were affected by the simple name. Like always.

you attempted to hide your face knowing he'd tease you about it because draco didn't give it a rest when he saw you get like this but he grabs your wrist, his Larger hands wrapping around it before they even graze your skin. his blue eyes lock on yours.

"I knew you'd get all flustered if I called you that." He whispered, chuckling. He let go of your wrist; you huffed shoving him forward a bit as a shiver went down your spin.

Walking towards the others you couldn't help but smile as your cheeks continued to blush as you played the words on a loop.

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