#be vigilant i love queue

[kidstorybd24]

this is my all time favourite post I've ever seen on reddit everyone read it please

[occidentaltourist]

bbc: Some sweet #Silvacre content for your FYP ❤️

[call-me-oracle]

barbara gordon in detective comics #1070

bonus:

[theaccursedninth]

"What if they kissed?" ("What if they kissed?" Meme; verse 1 yells vigil while charging at him like a linebacker)

Send "What if they kissed?"

and I'll write a scene where our muses kiss, even if they aren't shipped together. it is it's own thing and doesn't have to lead to an official ship. a "what if scenario"

It's not her.

He knew it the moment their lips touched. Different. Unfamiliar. Not Rose Tyler. His hearts sank, eerie blue eyes fluttering open. The face was the same. The smile similar enough. Even the flecks of blond in her dark hair echoed with memories past. Malekith stepped back from her, unable to shield the pain from his face.

"I...am sorry," he murmured, head shaking slightly from side to side. The loss and disappointment thumped hard at his chest, echoing inside his ears. Rose was gone, lost to another Time, another world where this nightmare he called his waking reality never transpired, and he...he was alone with a shadow of his former life and the ever-present reminder there would never be a way back.

[kidstorybd24]

"It was affection that held us together."

zoom in for better detail (tumblr likes to butcher my quality lmao)

[windupaidoneus]

in like a day or two i can get back to leveling ast thank the fucking twelve for that

[marsipaniscool]

freaking stares at you with my big disgustint glowing red eyes. kars headcanons about little habits he has. (please.)

hes a freak animal underneath all of the grace and beauty. semi unrelated but i firmly believe he did NOT have a good relationship with his parents i can smell it.

CRUNCHES THIS IN MY MOUTH BTWWWWW

Kars has a few little quirks and habits that I love thinking about. In particular, I see him having the nervous habit of pulling his hair. He’s sat at his desk, deep in thought about his latest experiment, fingers mindlessly twirling and pulling at strands in frustration. Queue even more frustration at the resulting damage, and that leads him to his other nervous habit, counting out numbers. Whenever Kars finds himself under stress, he counts the seconds he takes to accomplish any task, tapping his knuckle against his thigh as he does so. It finds it calms him and grounds him.

Apart from nervous habits, I can see Kars being very vigilant of his surroundings. He’s always checking over his shoulder, if he’s not already in a position where he can see every entrance and exit. He’s constantly keeping a headcount too. Can also see him sighing a lot as a vocal habit, poor man is constantly annoyed and stressed.

With ULF Kars, I LOVE the idea that the longer he embodies certain creatures, the more he becomes like them. For example, extended time with wings leads him to almost squawk and chirp at things, he would also cock his head side to side when looking at things. Also love the idea of him starting to groom his fellow pillar men when he’s like this. He’s super fussy about appearances in the first place, making Esi and Wham dorn something plum in honour of him, but adding the instinctual bird grooming aspect? he’s a nightmare. someone save Wham because he can’t tell Kars to stop.

OH YEAH KARS REEKS OF PARENT ISSUES. in my little hc world, kars’ parents were involved with science and gave him the avenue to get started on his super crazy acupuncture. however, i always think child Kars asked faux pas and taboo questions, which reflected poorly on his parents. Poor baby was too curious for his own good. Honestly have been thinking about him slipping away from the underground caverns and trying to wander in the sun against everyone’s wishes. Cue a massive freak out from the tribe, he was likely the only child at the time so EVERYONE was worked up. I also think that Kars's mother was the main, if not only, disciplinary figure in Kars's life for a long time, leading to a deep resentment of women. All of his punishments were at her hand, and I don't see communication being any of the pillarmen's strong suits. Naturally a deep deep divide happened between a very curious child whos been spoiled endlessly, perhaps even having behavioural issues, and parents who expected a blank slate doll of a child who would do exactly what they wanted whenever. I also think that when Kars was really ramping up his experiments on the masks, but pre pillar tribe massacre, he experimented on his and Esidisi's parents bc "they're the closest genetic matches to us!"

Kars Lastname my beloved tar pit of a man <3

[carnalapples]

happy dadwc friday! a kisses prompt for this week: Kisses on the back of their hand

Happy Friday!! And thank you for the prompt 💕 This week I have Sebastian/Templar Hawke for @dadrunkwriting:

When Hawke kneels by her sword and prays, Sebastian burns. His throat burns with something bitter and acrid, like a shot of heavy liquor, and the way it would sit in the mouth after, the regret. His chest burns with a low, slow flame, beginning in the stomach. He is jealous, singularly jealous, of the easy way in which Andraste’s blessing comes to her, fully realized in the glow that comes to her eyes and her sword and lines the air she breathes. 

(When he asked her why she did it, Hawke shrugged. It was efficient, she said. That much power, at a cost. He called her shallow and hypocritical, and she bared those sharp teeth and that sharper wit. Any more so, she asked, than the majority of the Order?

He had kissed her then, nothing to blame it on but his own volition. And her sharp teeth were pressing into his lip for half a second before she kissed him back. He had thought at the time, that it would make it easier for her to be so entwined with it all, his faith and his desire, to break away from her in one go.)

Despite taking on the burden of a templar, she has left behind their calling, and Hawke rarely comes into the Gallows, so Sebastian is alone when he goes to lead service in the chapel, and to meet Bethany, who attended regularly long before he added himself to the roster. He finds himself looking at Bethany on these visits, searching for any trace of resentment in her eyes, any reluctance when she lights the candles. Any hint that she too begrudges Hawke her easy answers.

She turns to him with a question in her eyes, and he looks away, shamed. He clears his throat. 

“Is everything well with you, Miss Hawke?”

“I’m Enchanter now,” she says with a soft smile. “And I cannot complain.”

“I suppose not,” he murmurs, glancing back at the templar behind her, hands twitching at their sides. 

“And you? Is all well?”

“Yes. Elthina has agreed to let me take my vows in the fall.” Bethany’s brows jump at that, and he feels a mild flare of annoyance. 

“Oh,” she says. “I had thought…” But she does not continue the thought, merely stepping aside with a sideways glance for the next penitent in the queue. No matter. They are both capable of filling in the blanks on their own.

When Sebastian becomes a full brother, Hawke comes to see it. He did not expect her to; her own vigil was a solitary thing. When she asks him why he did it, he is silent. How can he distill the essence of the answer? Because it was time. Because when he imagines her, he imagines her as the statue that looms over the chantry, and cold stone can be touched but not loved. It was a mistake, he says instead. He strayed from the path, and now he is where the Maker intended.

When it is her turn in the queue, Hawke brings her dry lips to Sebastian’s hand and places one firm kiss to the skin. And then it’s her open mouth, wet and hot, for one second, before she lets go. He barely avoids yanking his hand back, the flush already settling into his skin, as she smirks softly, out of anyone else’s view, and then straightens, offering him a shallow bow before making her way to the back of the crowd. 

He is invited to her home that evening. He respectfully declines. “You could at least make it a bit more difficult,” she says, that dry humor never leaving her voice. Before he can fully understand her, she is gone. 

She never used to come to service without her mother, but she does now, sitting in the second row, back straight against the wood, long legs slanting down to the floor. Her eyes follow him across the room and back, and every time, she is in line to seek his blessing, and Sebastian begins sweating from the moment he concludes the sermon at the thought of her mouth on his skin.  It keeps him up at night, wondering when Hawke might show up next. In his thin, hard cot, he presses his own lips to his hand and breathes in, low and slow.

Today, Hawke waits at the edge of the room for everyone else to leave. “That was a nice canticle,” she says. “I always liked Exaltations.”

“It’s fallen out of favor,” he says. 

“Yes. Not enough things to exalt.” As banal as if they were discussing the weather. “I’m having a dinner at the estate.” He’s already moving to decline, but she touches a hand to his wrist, and Sebastian falters. “It’s been a year, Sebastian,” she says, softer, dulled. 

He takes her hand and brushes his thumb over it, and she smiles. It has been months since he came to dinner at the Hawke estate. Hawke leaves and he fills the hours with empty actions, mind gone blank until it is time to dress and to make the short walk down to her home. 

It is a small dinner of her closest friends; Hawke takes the seat to the right of the head of the table, conspicuously empty without Leandra’s presence. 

“When Mother met Father,” she begins, “she knew how it would end. That’s what she told me.” She takes a sip from her goblet, engraved in the style Leandra preferred, obscene with imagery. “But how could she have had any idea?” 

They share their memories of Leandra one by one. Fenris tells a charming story about trinkets arriving on his doorstep, Isabella a remark about how well she kept her figure that has Hawke sputtering with laughter. Sebastian remembers her kindness, how she was ready to be a mother to anyone. But as the dinner winds down, all the while he is thinking: that Leandra met Malcolm and knew he would ruin her.

“Help me up, Brother,” Hawke says, and Sebastian feels an acute pain in his head. Her cheeks are flushed from the drink, and still she is sure enough to hit him where it hurts. As the others file out, she slings one arm over his back, and together they navigate up the wide stairs, each of them slowed by the other. They make it to the large doors that haunt Sebastian’s dreams and he deposits her on the bed. She makes no move to undress or to lie down, instead just looking up at him with a curious stare. The hour is too late. It’s too late for them. He should leave, but he doesn’t.

She doesn’t look chosen. She looks tired. She looks lonely. Sebastian smiles. Her hands are still where they lie in her lap. He lifts one, seals his mouth to it, over the back, his pulse strong in his lip, and she curls her fingers. Her cheeks have hollowed out, her stare hot. Even beneath the wine, her mouth tastes of lyrium, dry and bitter.

[ch4rryc0smos]

YOUR MOUTH IS VICIOUS AND YOU'RE PROUD OF THE SOUND YOU MAKE EVERY SECOND I'M AWAKE / EVERY SECOND I'M AROUND ! — NOW IT'S OVER | DOGPARK.

── . ✶ ❝ B L A I R E F L O R E N C E C A L L A H A N . ❞

☼ — xvii | cancer | infj | british-australian 🪐

appearance ; slightly tanned skin on exposed parts with freckles over shoulders and face, mole under the right corner of her bottom lip, forest green eyes, 5'10 [177 cm], athletic [or sleeper] build with thinner legs, barely noticeable scars over arms, thighs and back, scars over most of her body, dimples when she smiles hard. dimples on her lower back when she stretches. ombre [brown-blonde] hair, prefers her hair short [in a jellyfish cut], but isn't allowed.

beliefs ; materialistic wealth doesn't define anything but your worth in the eyes of capitalism. humans are made to express individuality, not succumb to capitalistic beliefs and submit to slave-like treatment.

⋆ ─ living isn't a linear experience, take it with grace, give it time, and maybe it'll learn to love you too. so, live. ⋆ ─ good and bad don't truly exist, the world is not black and white, it's grey, it's a canvas, and you're the artist.

personality ; gentle, intuitive, charismatic, vigilant, observant, meticulous, boisterous, collected, diligent, loving, realist, nurturing.

positive traits ; compassionate, selfless, empathetic, kind, accountable, notices other's emotions & fluctuations in behaviour[s].

negative traits ; anxious, bottles up her emotions, skeptic [has trust issues], struggles with boundaries, overworks, cares too hard, thinks she has to always be the one to rely on, can't accept her negative emotions, has unhealthy coping mechanisms.

quirks ; fidgets all the time | stutters when nervous | bounces from heel to heel when waiting in queues | gets louder and faster when talking about passions | has an oral fixation | tilts her head when she's focusing | taps her foot unconsciously when waiting for people.

likes ; nature, psychology, sociology, anthropology, freedom of speech, anarchy, deep conversations, late-night car rides, coffee, biology [many branches of it], museums, gardens, aquariums, deers, red pandas, art of living, knowledge, economics, connor murphy & evan hansen.

dislikes ; arthropods, heights, loud noises, narrow-mindedness, extreme temperatures, snobby people, arrogance, dishonesty, being under pressure, confrontation, disorganised places, normalising shitty behaviour and attributing it to mental illness.

deepest secrets ; wants to be seen for her true self, wishes her worth wasn't determined by productivity, wishes her parents would've seen her as more than a trophy daughter.

⋆ ─ she just wants actual connections, the one thing she somehow barely has. ⋆ ─ she doesn't want expectations to be placed on her, she doesn't want to be a prodigy, she wants peace, and calm, and people who actually care.

── . ✶ ❝ B A C K S T O R Y . ❞

ONE of australia's greatest kids, a prodigy made to wow the southern hemisphere, when blaire callahan moves to us, a whole world and hemisphere away, she doesn't know what to do, where to start. living in an esteemed society, high art culture surrounds her everywhere she goes. she's never truly known what friendship is because status is what determines who she is, what she is, even.

she hates how stuffy her life feels, how lonely she always feels, and how she lets her worth be decided on whether she performs well or not, what is this, a circus? she feels like the clown, that's for sure.

primary and middle school pass by as breezes, decent enough as long as she doesn't engage with anyone, ignores the one kid that goes to a nearby school and apparently threw a printer at his teacher in second grade. little blaire didn't know that mentioning that would just be the start of her meeting the murphy family.

one faithful day, she makes the mistake of mentioning this unknown kid to her ever nosy mother, and she somehow finds out it's connor murphy. some guy she'll have to meet now because his family is apparently rich! and oh, they're nice too, but it doesn't matter. and did she mention connor has a sister?

when she finally meets the family, the first time, it's awkward, zoe, connor's sister is a lively kid, she clings onto blaire the second they meet, and connor is, to say the least, out of it. he doesn't want to be there.

blaire resonates with it. and that's how they bond. the two run from the snobby dinner party, they sit outside, on the porch. they're awkward kids, don't speak, but they do know that they understand each other better than the adults ever could.

and that's how it started, few visits occasionally, until blaire moves to connor's school. it's the most public school-esque school she's ever done so much as seen. but connor is okay with it, well, as okay as he can be while hating it viscerally.

he gets bullied, blaire finds out. she hates it, she doesn't care who these people are, she doesn't like them. she spends a while defending connor, and then she meets evan. an anxious wreck, someone who doesn't want to be noticed, but of course she notices him.

so does connor, well, he notices before she does. but she's quick to follow. connor isn't big on befriending him, but she is. she wants him to feel seen, because she never has, not until him. she gives evan the best version of herself, and they form a friend group, a little trio, just them. and no one can hurt them, or can they?

── . ✶ ❝ C U R R E N T . ❞

LAST year of high school, on the path to be valedictorian, or whatever it is in american's high school, blaire callahan is looking to do what she was meant to do when she was younger, back at australia. she's friends with alana beck, a prodigy, but no one knows what these two go through. only connor and evan know blaire better than she seems to know herself.

but connor has been falling apart recently, and even if he acts "rad" and says it's just the usual, she knows. she always will, and evan does too. he's much more observant than he lets off. and blaire likes it. these two are scared for connor, they're worried, but blaire feels empathy. she's been here before, and it hurts.

it hurts bad to see him like this. it hurts so bad to see him like this, and have zoe be so angry. she's always been friends with zoe, and she doesn't like what connor has done to her, but now she's torn. and evan has to help her steer this ship away from this path, the one that'll lead them to their demise.

she's torn between two people, no, three, and three worlds that she'll have to navigate. and her parents too, and it's just so draining, so draining. she has to learn how to live, with herself, and with them, and with everything.

she hates high school, she says.

but she doesn't, she just hates how everyone she seems to care about is struggling, but she's ambitious, she will do anything to keep them afloat. and she will, no matter what, she doesn't care what happens to her, she's going to do it, for herself, for, connor, for evan.

she's been close with cynthia and heidi, connor and evan's mothers (respectively), but she doesn't know if she should tell them, maybe not yet, she thinks. the time will come.

and the universe will let her know, she believes in it. she believes in time, or does she? she hopes she does.

it doesn't matter though, she's going to figure out. this is blaire callahan the world is talking about. she's going to rock it.

── . ✶ appears in to be seen is to be loved [wip].

★ ; decided to make this post before actually putting the fic up (i haven't even finished the fic, i'm sick). i fell ill so i'm much slower, but it's okay, meet blaire everyone! another one of my girls <3 i've got some works with her in it in the plans, so!

ch4rryc0smos © 2024

[dunkzillla]

Please tell me all the things about cruise AU! (If that's stumping you at the moment, I would also love any thoughts you have about shelterverse - because I'm stumped!)

drea my beloved I will give u some of both bc I love u!

cruise ship au, oh I have so many of this if only I could get it out

— no matter what on board management say, yuta and danny definitely don’t sleep with the guests. okay, they do, but not that many, okay, and it’s only because those month long cruises can get lonely, and you should under no circumstances, sleep with your coworkers.

— they have to be on their best behaviour on this particular trip, though, because brother in law to the owner of the cruise line, mr regal, is making the trip with his associates, mox, bryan and claudio, and any bad behaviour that gets back to the owner would be sure to get them fired.

— yuta and danny try their hardest, honestly, to be on their best behaviour. but regal is a flirt who keeps requesting yuta when he requires assistance, and bryan thinks danny should know more about yoga if he’s going to be the one to lead the yoga classes.

— before long, yuta and danny have found themselves, quite literally, in bed with the most important guests on the ship and trying to be very discreet about it. it doesn’t help that their bosses are being extra vigilant of their movements because of their track record — queue lots of awkward hiding in tiny cruise ship closets and rapid speed dressing when their boss is hot on their heels whenever they’re around their important guests.

shelterverse because I still have so much love for this

— bryan is totally over nigel. he really is. he doesn’t get any feelings whatsoever when they have to team up to take on a difficult rescue. it’s not like nigel looks good in his utility pants and polo shirt, on his hands and knees trying to coax a kitten out from under an abandon building.

— the rest of their respective crews have a bet going as to when they’ll end up fucking. well, mox thinks they’ll fuck, sami thinks they’ve fall back in love and kevin really just wants some peace and quiet so he can finish balancing the books

— a potential adopter has a bunch of cats, and bryan is hesitant to send a dog to a home with so many cats, so nigel goes along to help bryan assess the situation and whether the home is suitable. road trip fun! bickering, hashing out old arguments, and maybe a kiss and heavy petting happens.

[joshriku]

thank you @x-populuxe for the tag!

Rules: share the first lines of ten of your most recent fanfics and tag ten people. If you have written fewer than ten, don’t be shy and share anyway.

i'm not sure who to tag so if you see this and you're like ohh god i wish i had an excuse to talk about my writing i'm tagging YOU specifically pls do it i love reading fics

there's diversity here i feel. but not that much

the reports of my death are greatly exaggerated (akeshu)

“Hey,” Ren nudges him with his elbow, making Goro look up from his coffee. “It’s the anniversary of your disappearance.”

Sleepily, Goro turns his head to Ren’s phone. He watches him as he blinks, trying to read the bright headline while he’s still trying to wake up. “So it is.”

2. curiosity (quicksilver/human torch) (don't ask) (or actually ask)

No fucking way.

Johnny could play dumb. He could turn away and walk the other way, because Pietro is clearly dressed to not be recognized. It’s pretty obvious because Johnny is dressed the same way. Big hoodie, sunglasses, cap over sunglasses. Sometimes you just want to buy a fucking burger.

“Act natural,” he says as he comes to stand behind him in the queue. Which, okay, alright, maybe not his most normal move ever! Sue him. “Funny seeing you here.”

3. a petty thing (hosea/dutch)

What makes him such an easy target is the way he carries himself.

They are always the easy ones, too—men who believe they are better than anyone else. Confident men in America almost, but not always, spell trouble. Hosea knows his kind better than everyone else, which is why, perhaps, he’s the one suited to attend Dutch van der Linde.

This one is going to be an open-and-shut case.

4. incredibly small problems in such an impossibly big world (wanda & lorna)

“When did you learn how to drive?” Wanda asks her, but it’s probably a question she immediately regrets—she winces on the passenger seat. “Wait, that’s a dumb question. It’s a metal vehicle.”

Lorna gives her a thumbs-up. “Bingo. It’s not really learning, more like feeling it and willing it to move as I want. Neat trick, right?”

She smiles, leaning into the seat further. “I’m jealous. I wouldn’t be half as terrified of driving if I was so sure I’d never crash it.”

“Can’t you just…” Lorna wiggles her fingers, “warp reality and make it so you can drive?”

Wanda arches an eyebrow. 

“Do you believe I would bend the rules of reality so I could skip driving lessons?”

“Shit, maybe it’s a good thing you’re the one with those powers,” Lorna says. “I would.”

5. a scandal in bohemia (raven/irene)

“And Irene Adler?”

“Threatens to send them the photograph. And she will do it. I know that she will do it. You do not know her, but she has a soul of steel. She has the face of the most beautiful of women, and the mind of the most resolute of men. Rather than I should marry another woman, there are no lengths to which she would not go—none.”

In order to not slip-up, Raven rests her head against her hand, if only to look interested in everything this man was saying about Irene. You do not know her, but she has a soul of steel. That, she did. 

6. patterns of loss (joel & ellie) (1.2k)

There’s not much he can do. 

The urgency to leap after Ellie drains out of his body as soon as Henry’s body hits the floor. Ellie’s sobs are present, filling the air, as Joel takes a look around the room—hyper-vigilance not wearing off just yet. His heartbeat is loud in his ears—but perhaps Ellie crying is even louder. Okay, he can work with that. He stands up straighter again, trying to gear himself for what’s coming next.

There’s not much he can do to comfort Ellie.

He’s more of a practical person, as it is. He extends his hand to her, trying to get her up. 

“C’mon,” he says, saving the inner relief when she does take his hand. “Let’s get you out of here.”

“You’re not—” Briefly, Ellie’s eyes flash with betrayal. “You’re—you’re not leaving them here, are you?”

7. kind (hosea & arthur) (2.1k)

“What are you thinking about?”

It’s not hard to guess. Hosea has been aware of Dutch’s gaze for a while now, almost as if they are caught on a staring loop: he’s looking at Arthur, and Dutch is looking at Hosea while he does that.

“You know,” he says. Dutch does know. They’ve had this conversation from the moment they took in Arthur, and Hosea isn’t fond of repeating himself. Not to Dutch.

8. melt your headaches, call it home (cherik) (20.3k) (oops.)

“Dad,” Pietro starts in that tone of voice. 

Erik loves his children. He does. He has grown to love them more than anything in this life. Unfortunately, this means he knows them better than he knows himself. One could never finish knowing their children, but he’d wager he has such an understanding of his twins that he can categorize every single tone of voice they have. 

This one—the little emphasis on the only vocal, the way he can tell Pietro already knows what he wants from this conversation before he even begins to breach the topic… yes, well, certainly not his favorite one from him. 

“Son,” Erik answers. Hopefully Pietro doesn't beat around the bush. 

“Do you, perhaps, by any chance… happen to know Charles Xavier?” 

9. a winding road (david & erik) (3.2k)

David has a list of things he wants to talk about. 

Um, did you mean what you said? About being proud of me? 

You know my dad. Has he always been an arrogant dick? 

You know my dad. Is there any chance he’ll ever change?

Unfortunately, there seems to not be any way to dive into this without looking weird. Not that he cares about looking weird, but there’s probably a subtler, nicer way to begin this conversation. Who the hell opens up with “Hey, can I fix my daddy issues or not?” Fucking hell. Magneto wouldn’t mind, probably, but it still rubs David the wrong way.

10. a heart's genuine apology (terumob) (1k)

Teru blinks back into consciousness when he feels a pair of hands shaking him awake.

“Hanazawa-kun,” the voice is saying, gently, trying to not hurt him. “Hanazawa-kun, wake up, please…”

Is that… Kageyama-kun? Teru suddenly blinks awake harder, much to Kageyama’s relief. Behind him, his master also looks equally relieved, although—oh, they both look so rough. Teru tilts his head. 

wow! THATS A LOT ! god has cursed me for my hubris and my work is never finished

[askaceattorney]

(Referenced Letter)

Dear Dawsongfg,

Chief Mod Edgeworth: All three bring me to the main page of tumblr. You’re making no sense, as usual.

Dear Anonymous,

Chief Mod Edgeworth:

 Agreed. It’s especially funny when Edgeworth gets things wrong in the Investigations games.

Dear Anonymous,

Chief Mod Edgeworth: 

I... think you’re getting things mixed up. Kazuma had known the ancestor of the von Karma’s from Ace Attorney due to that ancestor having been the student of Genshin Asogi. That’s not a headcanon. That is CANON.

(Referenced Link)

(Full Referenced Letter)

Dear Jacob,

Chief Mod Edgeworth: 

I don’t understand what you mean. Is this a response letter to us or characters? You never clarified.

Co-Mod: It took me a while to get it, but I got it as soon as I saw all the “no”s.  Nice one!

Dear Anonymous,

Chief Mod Edgeworth: Agreed, Myriam Scuttlebutt is funny and cute. 

Though, my favorite would have to go to The Skulkin Brothers with the two redheads and Daley Vigil being close second or third. 

I love how The Great Ace Attorney games always have to have a stooges trio or duo lolz.

Co-Mod: I loved Myriam as well, but I think my favorite would be Olga Orly.  She was pretty fun for the short time she appeared, plus she had quite the memorable breakdown.

Spark Brushel gets an honorable-ish mention for his unique way of showing surprise. 

Dear Skibot99,

Chief Mod Edgeworth: 

It’s actually five letters a day. The rules have since been updated. So, you are allowed to post five letters but no more.

Dear Skibot99,

Chief Mod Edgeworth: It depends, but official art can be considered “canon” under certain context. As for Japanese game manuals, neither of us have read them or know any with English translations, so for now, no.

Dear Uncleared,

Chief Mod Edgeworth: Yes, you can write bad ending letters, but please specify. Also, I know almost everyone does this and it’s confusing when they do it, but please don’t label the bad ending of Fairwell my Turnabout to “Miracle Never Happened.” The first time I saw this I mistook it for the bad ending for Duel Destinies, because the spaceship taking off was also considered a miracle. Also, those kinds of letters keep titling that way and it confuses the heck out of me.

I know, they technically never called it a “miracle,” but neither did the bad ending to Farewell my Turnabout. Just title it “Bad Ending: 2-4″ “Bad Ending: Farewell my Turnabout” “Bad Ending: 4-4″ “Bad Ending: Turnabout Succession,” you get the idea. It’s not against the rules but it is confusing. 

Dear Anonymous,

Chief Mod Edgeworth: Normally, I’d wait until this one reached the bottom of the queue, but... this kinda disturbs me. I have never seen any letters that mention urine or feces, except from the person making these letters right here.

If this is the person you’re talking about, stop it. This is not sexualizing feces or urine and, in fact, is based off of historical context in Japan. Japan used to use dung and urine for fertilizer, even monopolizing it, before Westernizing themselves. During the Meiju Era, the factories using urine and poop buckets for fertilizer began slowly decreasing as pressure was placed upon them to Westernize themselves. This helped clean the streets and crops grow. They don’t need to give reference to this fact. That can be done from the writers out of curtesy, but it’s not required. 

If you find this gross, I... guess you will get grossed off of most children shows? I’ve honestly seen more potty humor from Rugrats than these letters. They don’t even make up the majority of letters this person writes. Heaven forbid, someone mentions poop and pee based on historical facts and turns it into a head canon for Ryunosuke’s family. I’ve already drawn my line in the sand of what is too far and it’s not going to be over shit and pee.

I have never asked anyone to act tactfully or make references to head canons, unless it’s a response to former letters, which these have done. It might shock you, but many of us mods are not the tactful kind of people, except maybe Co-mod, but myself, Mod Justice and Modthorne are not the kind to bring up anything gross or disturbing tactfully. We say it like it is. So, don’t expect us to delete letters over not being tactful or being disturbing. So long as they don’t break the rules, they’re good.

Co-Mod: Nah, that’s giving way too much credit.

(Referenced Letter)

Dear Anonymous,

Chief Mod Edgeworth: I was mostly confused than anything else. I am to guess you had just finished Dual Destinies? 

In that case, it makes sense. People are likely to make wild assumptions. I still remember after The Great Ace Attorney was released that there were people thinking Kazuma was trying to kill Barok when placing him on trial when it doesn’t make any sense in the grand scheme of things. 

I’d be lying to say I’ve never done the same when playing an AA game.

(Referenced Link)

Dear Gumshoe-letty-fan,

Chief Mod Edgeworth: Not sure. I’m not someone that eats muffins, unless it’s with family or something. Like the cosplay picture.

Co-Mod: I deal with “life and stuff” a lot as well, so no worries.  I’d say I’m mostly a blueberry muffin kind of guy (as long the blueberries are the real deal, that is).  And as for the cosplay picture:

That’s the Co-Mod Seal of Approval, in case anyone forgot.  And a wonderful day to you as well!

Dear Charicla,

Chief Mod Edgeworth: I’ve decided to let this letter be answered now since I feel many worry about this. No, there isn’t. You can write letters from an AA or some other character as OOC as you wish. 

BUT... and this is a big “but,” don’t be surprised if the AA characters catch on that it’s a letter from an imposter. I find it can also put someone like Phoenix OOC if he believed a letter from Maya with her saying that she hates burgers. The same also applies to Manfred von Karma writing a letter to Edgeworth that he hates him and wants to beat him up and send him to hell. Despite if you believe MVK does feel this way about Edgeworth, he’s not abusive or has shown to hate Edgeworth as much as he claims outside of framing him for murder. I’m not just going by the games, but also my research and understanding of Japanese culture and the canon characters from the original games vs the localization.

Point is, you can write letters as the canon AA characters to another and make them OOC, but don’t be surprised if the other characters it’s being sent to catches on that it’s an impostor. I suggest, if you want the characters to act OOC for whatever reason, make sure there’s enough of their canon character in them to be convincing or else send it to characters that don’t know them well. You can also send it to the characters before they knew the character you’re making OOC such as making Athena OOC in a letter to Apollo when they first meet in The Monstrous Turnabout. 

-The Mods

[fxiled-fxithful]

"Praise be to thy Creator for yet another day to basic in his glory. May our future days be blessed with our loved ones as we carry-on in his honor. Embrace thy own path whilst embracing humility and patience. Love with kindness to all around you"

"May your heart be full of naught but the purest thoughts of faith in a brighter tomorrow. Charity and Vigilance shall aid thee in spreading His good word and will. Do so by keeping thy chastity with mindful temperance to remain as one of the faithful."

{Anyway! Religious crazies aside, hope my fellow friends in the states have a nice and safe holiday this week. I know I owe I think..two replies? Which I will try to get to on Friday. Thursday is going to be a family day so there will be little posting here. If I have any time tomorrow to write anything, I'll probably queue things for Friday.

[vuulpecula]

aesthetic verse graphic | @thefvrious

⟶ FOX & VILLANELLE. 

"I’ve dreamt about you nearly every night this week; how many secrets can you keep? ‘Cause there’s this tune I found that makes me think of you somehow and I play it on repeat until I fall asleep, spillin’ drinks of my settee.” -- Do I Wanna Know?, Arctic Monkeys

**personals pls do not reblog! <3

[devotedlystrangewizard]

nothing feels better than going into a dungeon as a healer kinda anxious only to do perfectly fine and get all three commendations its such a good feeling

[aquagustd]

snug & smug - JHS

↣ you’re forced to take one of your coworkers jobs after she had suddenly quit. On your delivery trip to the local zoo, you spot someone, someone who looks oddly familiar. What bothers you is that you can’t place him, but it seems like he recognizes you.

𓃹part of the zookeeper bangtan series𓃟

pairing — zookeeper!hoseok x pizza-delivery-girl!reader

genre/rating — R | crack, fluff, smut, s2l

word count — 6K

warnings/tags — fuckboy!hobi, college au, he handles the smaller mammals & petting zoo, strong language, clueless + horny? y/n, scent kink, explicit smut —exhibitionism, dirty talk, fingering, body worship, hair pulling, multiple orgasms, praise kink, car sex, spit kink, brief handjob, biting/scratching, slight overstimulation, spanking, pussy slapping, choking, rough sex, doggy style, drool, protected sex

a/n — I edited this just to include something about hobi’s leg hair 🧍🏻‍♀️ also this is my favorite hobi from what I’ve written so far

∞

With a grunt, you fit the helmet over your head, ensuring that the strap is snug under your chin. You hear your manager call your name before you start up the scooter. He beams at you, lifting both his fists to shoot you a thumbs up. You give him one of your own before huffing away the strand of hair that managed to slip out from underneath your heavy headgear. It’s going to bother you all day but you’re too frustrated to readjust it.

“You look cute with that on! Good luck!”

It’s your fourth day of agony. A job you didn’t sign up for. At all. You’d much rather spend your days in the kitchen, like you used to, smearing marinara sauce on dough. It might’ve been monotonous, but it was within your comfort zone. Going out, delivering pizzas, over thirty-five orders during the evening alone, is not. You have no idea why your manager assigned this job to you if you know for a fact that he doesn’t trust you with it. The way he repeats the guidelines he no doubt made up himself and isn’t company policy plus his vigilant gaze every time you leave for a delivery only adds to your annoyance.

Who doesn’t love pizza?

Soon you’ll be the person falling under the anti-pizza category if you’d have to plaster on another fake smile. A fusion of steak and pineapple lingers in your nostrils, threatening to have your decent chicken sandwich rise in your throat and spoil your whole trip.

That doesn’t sound like a bad idea. You could say that you aren’t feeling too well.

However, the image of your manager’s stressed-out face surfaces, frantically calling up whoever to fill in the space of Eunji when she called in to say she wouldn’t be coming in. Two hours after her shift began. Causing a backlog of delivery orders. You had offered to cover for her, because you’re nice. But you didn’t think this would become a permanent thing. At the end of the day, your conscience would eat at you if you were to quit too. You’ve had this job ever since you started college.

But the customers…that’s another story.

Pulling up on the dusty path, you reach into the warmer strapped to the back of the scooter and make your way to the entrance of the zoo, fidgeting with your helmet as you go.

This is your first time here at the local zoo and you would be intrigued by all the sounds coming from behind the large gates, if you came here under different circumstances. A short, balding man sits with a scowl on his face in the booth, passing you the smallest glance as you near the area. It’s a Wednesday afternoon so it isn’t too busy.

“Excuse me?”

His eyebrow jumps, arms still folded, “how can I help?”

You lift the tissue taped onto the box of pizza to inspect the receipt, “order for Road H?”

He nods, and you take it as your queue to leave it on the small counter, however he nudges it away. You stare at him with mild confusion and anger.

“Not for me.”

“O-oh the—”

He hands you a blank card, gesturing to the gates out of his view but in your line of sight, “take it to Road H.”

You groan, there are other orders you need to deliver and now you’d have to go exploring in a zoo. One you haven’t been to before.

“How do I find it?” You mumble, fitting the card into your jeans pocket haphazardly.

“Map. When you enter.”

Passing him a puzzled look, you thank him quietly then head around the booth. Seems like you aren’t the only one who hates your job.

The gigantic gates can be a little unnerving, and you’ve read stories about the animals going crazy in the past. However, you also know that they’ve made major improvements to the security, etcetera. With that in mind, you brave a few steps through the gates and find the stand that contains a small map and images of some of the animals that can be found here.

You breathe a sigh of relief after you gather that Road H isn’t where all the scary animals are. It’s near the food court. But you still got to keep an eye out for any wild monkeys.

On your way there, you realize that all the trees look the same and you decide to ask someone for directions. A man wearing a black shirt. Probably one of the zookeepers since it looks similar to the shirt the grump was wearing at the booth.

“Excuse me? Hi. Do you know—” A surprised gasp escapes from your lips when he turns around to reveal a scar through one of his eyes. You know it’s mean to stare, but you can’t help it.

“Yes?”

He sounds bored, and you wonder if everyone here is this unenthusiastic, quite the opposite of their vibrant surroundings.

“I’m looking for Road H,” you continue, raising the pizza box which catches his sharp gaze, “delivery.”

“Oh,” his fingers curl around the edge of the box and you let it go without thinking twice, “I’m on my way there so I can drop it off for you.”

“Yes. I mean…no! They didn’t pay yet.”

He blinks then spins around. You trot after him, nearly tripping over a rock as he takes you down another path.

“This way.”

You’re staring at the back of his head, black hair bobbing over his ears as he walks. You’re a bit curious as to how he got that scar.

The food court is much more crowded than you expected. Wooden tables and benches with vines hanging overhead, suiting the atmosphere.

“Hope-ah! Delivery,” you follow him blindly to the small ice-cream truck stationed at the back. Dodging the tables as you go. A man, who you guess is also another zookeeper, turns around with a leather jacket swung over his shoulder, licking on an ice-cream cone.

“Thanks man,” he grins, heart-shaped smile directed at the man who seems to have forgotten all about you when he blocks out your frame with his. He tucks into the pizza, a slice caught between his teeth when you clear your throat.

“Sorry,” you begin, stepping around him to come face to face with the other guy, “you haven’t paid yet.”

The grin he had on earlier returns, gaze raking down your figure a few times which has you shifting from foot to foot.

“I’ve never been happier about a pizza delivery,” he smirks, nudging the man next to him who sniggers.

Something about his smile speeds up your heartrate, mostly because you’re feeling incredibly exposed with the way he’s staring you down. Licking at the cone.

You hold out your hand, repeating yourself a little louder this time, “you haven’t paid yet.”

His eyes widen and he starts to rummage through his pockets, “right, right.”

Why does he look so familiar? You would ask, but you’re also running out of time and you have a feeling that this guy might take it the wrong way.

Impatience growing, you follow his hand as he finally produces the correct amount and places it in your palm, fingertips lingering on your own.

He holds your gaze, tongue darting out to lick the ice-cream, “is that enough?”

You poke at the notes in your hand, “yeah.”

When you turn around, a hand on your wrist stops you and you snap your head to find him too close to your face, “see you soon.”

Before you can pull your hand away, he lets you go, and you stomp out of the food court with befuddled thoughts. You really need to do something about your dry spell. How could a stranger have you feeling this way? Your stomach twists with butterflies when you recall the glint in his eyes and perfectly styled hair.

Although, something about his smile tells you that he might not be a complete stranger. You just down know how. Yet.

Gross. Disgusting.

The back of your scalp itches underneath the helmet, sweat dripping down the side of your face as you come to a stop on the sandy road. You want nothing more than to head home and take a cool shower. But it’s just the beginning of your shift.

You want to scream. You think you can get away with it. With all the bushes surrounding you. Only one thing prevents you from actually doing it. And that’s the judgmental stare from the man sitting at the booth.

“Hello,” you smile, “order for Hoseok?”

Similar to Wednesday, he slides the card across the counter, “Road H.”

With a frown, you make your way through the gates and peek at the map briefly before trekking down the pathway.

Road H. Again.

With that guy. The one who has been poisoning your dreams ever since you’ve seen him for the first time. Although, at the back of your mind, something has been telling you that it wasn’t actually the first time. You’ve seen him before. You just don’t know where or how, and that’s why you’re unusually curious about this random dude. You’re both frustrated and excited to see him again because maybe, you’d manage to place his face and then you’d be free. Why are you so annoyed about it anyway? Because he’s hot.

No.

Yeah he is. So hot.

He’s attractive and that’s the closest you’ve allowed another male species ever since your breakup. Perhaps that’s the reason why.

The zoo is bustling today, children’s laughter becoming louder and louder as you make your way to Road H, bypassing the entrance to the food court to finally come around a little chain-link enclosure. More than ten kids gripping the cage as they bounce off the floor with excitement.

Upon further inspection, you see him sitting inside the enclosure, holding a moving fluffball while a little girl pokes at its back. Hoseok?

“Erm, order for Hoseok?”

That draws the attention of him and the little monsters around you.

“Pizza!”

“PIZZA!”

A shiver runs down the length of your spine when he meets your gaze, transferring the fluffball to the girl to speak to you through the fencing.

“Hi,” he waves, looking at you from head to toe like the last time, “I’m Hoseok.”

You clear your throat, not sure whether to look at the chain around his neck or his blinding smile or smoldering eyes.

“Hi.”

“We got pizza guys! Let’s thank the pretty lady,” he shrills, clapping his hands wildly for the other kids to chime in with their thanks while your cheeks heat furiously.

And then you realize that you’re sweaty and gross. You avert your gaze to the fluffball munching on carrots in the enclosure. Especially when he makes his way out, rinsing his hands in the small bucket of water placed to the side.

“You like Sunny?”

“Hm?”

He juts his thumb in the direction of the cage, “the chinchilla. Sunny.”

“Uh…He’s cute,” you mumble, handing him the pizza boxes, “that’s a cute name.”

He stands next to you, a wave of his cologne hits you to have another nagging thought enter your mind. It smells so familiar. You’re irritated now, especially when his shoulder brushes yours lightly, his warmth sending tingles across your skin.

You take a step back reflexively when he dips his head to peer into your eyes, forcing you to look at him.

“Is this enough?”

He hands you a couple of notes while you’re glued to the spot, trying not to let your voice give you away. Thankfully, a girl with pigtails tugs at his shirt and he crouches down in front of her.

You’re sweating now. Shirt clinging to your back just as the cash sticks to your moist palms.

“When are we going to see the ponies?”

You watch him pinch her cheek, causing your heart to clench in your chest.

“After we have lunch, okay?”

She wraps her arms around his neck before skipping away to tell her little group of friends.

“You guys have ponies?”

You hear yourself say, and it’s too late because he’s already standing next to you. That damn cologne.

“Yeah. Horses and things. If anyone wants to go riding.”

“O-oh,” you mumble, thinking of something else to ask as you stand there awkwardly. Staring at his angular jaw and pink lips. “How m-much is it?”

He chuckles, fitting his hands into his pockets while you join in his laughter too. Even though you have no idea why he’s laughing.

Glancing around, he bends down to whisper in your ear, catching you off guard with the sharp movement.

“You don’t need to pay if you want a ride.”

You can’t help the gasp that tumbles from your lips, especially when he raises an eyebrow, breath wafting over your face. With that same smug grin on his face.

“I—”

With a deep breath, you spin around and speed through the gates, still feeling his burning stare on the back of your head. Until you know that you’re out of sight, you pause outside the booth to catch your breath. It was too much for you. He’s too much for you. WHO IS HE? Why do you know him but don’t know him at the same time?

You’re so on edge that the couple making their way out of the zoo startles you. And you apologize like an idiot when they didn’t even see you standing there.

It goes on like that for the rest of the week. And it’s something you can’t avoid. Is he not tired of pizza yet? Of taunting you every time you deliver his order innocently only for him to make some comment which keeps you distracted for the rest of the day?

You might lose your job if this goes on. You’re mixing up orders. Taking longer than usual to actually deliver the pizzas. And the heat doesn’t make it any easier.

But this is your job and you can’t quit. So you’re psyching yourself up to ask him who the fuck he is. But it would be embarrassing if he says he had never seen you before and he just enjoys teasing young women like yourself. He could be someone you saw in your dreams. Your dream guy. He doesn’t look far from it.

It takes you a little longer to find him today, passing the too quiet enclosures to see a dark figure at the end of the path. Hair sweaty as he sorts through a basket of…leaves?

Detecting slight movement in your periphery, you see a koala clinging onto a tree, wearing a sanguine smile. Which has one of your own spreading across your face at its cuteness.

“Awww.”

Hoseok lifts his head, a single strand of hair falling across his forehead with the motion. And you suddenly forget why you’re standing here. In front of this hunk surrounded by animals. But the heat from the pizza reminds you.

“Uhm, order.”

He laughs, low and husky as he makes his way to you. Large boots crunching on the pebbles ominously.

“I have you alone today.”

You blink, laughing nervously, “what? No we’re not.”

You gesture around you, to the enclosures on either side, pointing at the koala who seems to be eavesdropping. No doubt judging your flustered self.

“You’re right,” he grins, cracking his knuckles.

“It’s so quiet here,” you note, attempting to fill the silence, “I don’t see the other animals.”

If you squint at the bushes behind the fence, you think you can spot something moving behind the branches.

“I just fed them all, so they’re pretty occupied now.”

He wipes his hands on his pants, tan skin lit by the sun dipping below the horizon.

“Really?”

“Yeah, you should come by when you’re free, I’ll give you a little tour,” he winks, knocking the air from your lungs in the process.

“I…am free,” you whisper, looking everywhere but his face, “you were my last delivery.”

“Oh?” You shuffle to the side when he takes the pizza box from you, smoothing his hand over his hair only for more dark strands to dust his eyebrow, “let’s go then.”

Tucking your hair behind your ears, you follow him back down the path, dodging a heap of leaves and twigs. You can’t help but glance at him every now and then, admiring his perfect side profile.

You seem to have forgotten that he hasn’t paid yet, and he reminds you, fitting the cash in your palm with a secretive smile.

“What’s the most dangerous animal you have here?”

He looks up to the side, “in the whole zoo? Or just here?”

“J-just the ones you take care of.”

After a beat of silence, his smile returns, a much goofier one this time.

“Most of the ones I care for are not dangerous at all. They’re all cuddly critters.”

Hearing him say cuddly critters sends a flurry of butterflies in your tummy. You resist the urge to ask if he could say it again.

Another question on your tongue, you turn to look at him again when he cuts you off, smile replaced with a smirk.

“I know you don’t remember.”

“Wha—"

Your eyebrows pinch together. Why do you suddenly feel the need to pretend as if you do know? Whatever it is he’s talking about.

“I mea—”

“That night,” he prods, stalking you until your back hits something hard and cold. Mild relief from the heat.

“W-which night?”

He licks his lips, you track the motion greedily, “the Halloween party.”

You must look comical with the way your eyes bug out of your head.

Oh shit.

that night™

College. You’re in your early twenties and you thought this dumb game would just be a dreadful memory of your childhood. But here you are, navigating through the dark, a little tipsy with nothing but your hands feeling around for somewhere to hide.

Whose idea was it anyway?

Must’ve been one of the idiots from the health department, since they’re the ones who come up with quirky ideas.

Hide-and-seek in the dark with a bunch of drunk college students who take their Halloween costumes a little too seriously.

Obviously, you couldn’t tell your best friend that you hate the dark. That you still sleep with a lamp on because you live your life with this irrational fear. But it’s okay. You can do it. It’s just a dumb ga—

An ear-piercing shriek, like something out of a horror movie, echoes in the house. Fuck.

One of the reasons why you disliked playing this game when you were younger was because you were always one of the first people to get caught.

“Fuck,” you mutter, steadying what you think is a vase that threatens to topple over the coffee table.

“Get in here.”

The voice comes from behind you, so you charge toward it, forehead hitting a hard surface.

“OW!”

“Be careful,” the deep voice warns, gripping your hand to pull you into a small place that seems to get smaller when he closes the door to what you assume is a closet, “fuck. Something poked my eye!”

“Oh shit,” you pat his chest, air getting warmer the more you speak, “it’s my antenna.”

“Your antenna? What are you supposed to be?”

Even though he can’t see you, you’re suddenly embarrassed at the question, “a ladybug. What about you?”

“I’m not wearing a costume.”

“Oh.”

“Now be quiet. They might catch us.”

You laugh, “you’re taking this seriously?”

His hand rests on your shoulder, the other slotted between the wall and your elbow, “yeah. I don’t wanna get caught.”

“Why not?”

“Are you kidding? Who knows what they’ll do if they find us?!”

You giggle at his frightened tone, adjusting your position so his other hand falls to your hip.

“You’re scared.”

“Of course I’m scared!”

“Don’t worry,” you chuckle, rubbing his very toned chest lightly, “I’m scared too.”

“Are you drunk?”

“What? Nope.”

You hear him sniff, “you sure? Your breath—”

“My breath? You should smell yours!”

He laughs, both hands curled around your hips, “I didn’t say it smells bad.”

“Okay.”

Standing in musty silence, your cheeks heat when your stomach decides to growl embarrassingly loud.

“Someone’s hungry.”

You punch his chest, “shut up.”

“Ouch! I’ll send you back if you keep abusing me.”

“I’m not abusing you!”

His fingers curl around your wrists, “I’ll just keep these here to prevent any bruising.”

You wriggle in his hold, gritting your teeth, “let me go.”

“Nope.”

“Come on,” you squeal. In your fuss, you step away from him and your back hits a shelf, piercing into your spine, “fuck!”

“Shush—” suddenly, your hands are trapped up against the wall, kept there by his tight grip “—you’re being too loud.”

The thick scent of his cologne fills your nostrils. And the reality of the situation hits you just when you feel the material of his pants rub against your bare thigh.

You’re in a dark closet, pinned against a wall by a random guy who feels good and smells even better. He must look as attractive as he sounds. This is the most fun you’ve had since you started college.

He smells heavenly and expensive.

“How long do you think we’ll be here for?”

“I-I don’t know,” you sigh, heartrate accelerating, “all night…who knows?”

“All night?”

“Yeah.”

He groans, releasing you from his grip. However, you can still feel the heat radiating from his body, legs slotted between yours in the cramped-up space.

“We…we should probably find something to do,” you say under your breath, scrunching your eyes shut because you hate how seductive that sounded. But it’s too late.

“Oh yeah? What do you suggest?”

Fanning yourself, you tilt your head to the side and purse your lips. Hoping that would keep your thoughts from spilling. But that could only do so much when he’s moving even closer now.

“I don’t know…”

“You must have an idea if you think we could occupy ourselves here,” he urges, hand returning to your hip while yours fall to his shoulders.

“I don’t.”

The only sound you hear is his steady breathing, chest rising and falling beneath your fingertips as they skate across his chest.

“I wonder what your costume looks like.”

“Hm?”

“I said,” he whispers, hair tickling the side of your face, “I wonder what you look like in the costume.”

“O-oh, I’m wearing matching red shorts and a shirt…with antennae,” you babble, lost in his fragrance.

“You must look very sexy,” he husks, fingers inching up your sides to slide through your hair. The back of your neck prickles with sweat and nerves, “sexy ladybug.”

“You must look very sexy too,” you shoot back, twisting the material of his shirt when his lips skim your ear.

“I’m not wearing a costume, ladybug,” he chuckles, the low timbre of his voice has your core throbbing.

“Still,” you pant, eyes slipping shut when he kisses the skin under your ear, “you’re sexy.”

Perhaps it’s the lack of light, but you find yourself extra sensitive to his touches, melting under each caress of his rough fingers against your skin. Falling further into his arms just as he moves impossibly close to you, sharing body heat.

He traces the line of your jaw, thumb stopping under your lower lip which has you leaning into him, chest hitting his.

“Do you want me to kiss you?”

His top lip grazes yours ever-so-slightly, supple skin feathering across yours as you pant into each other’s mouths. His large hand curls around your thigh, hooking it around his waist as he continues to knead your flesh.

“Ye—”

BANG! BANG!

“Anybody in here?!”

“Fuck,” he whispers, jolting away from you, “shhh.”

Heart thundering in your chest, the door flies open and you’re being yanked out of the closet. You still can’t see a thing. The others around you shout and whoop, while you’re being pushed out of the house into the backyard with a group of girls sitting at the poolside. The only lighting being minute candles.

Your panties cling to your folds. All because of one man who you’d probably never see again. You fucking hate the dark.

“Ladybug.”

Your head might explode with how hot it feels.

“Wait. How did you— How did you know it was me?”

He slings an arm over your shoulder, steering you in the direction of the exit. Your heart might soar out if your chest.

“I checked on Instagram after that night. It wasn’t that difficult to find the girl with the ladybug costume. Which—” he nudges your hip, tucking you under his arm, “you looked very very sexy wearing.”

Gaze flickering from his face to the ground, you hide the blush behind your hair which he moves away with the hand around your neck.

“It was easy for you, I didn’t know who or how to ask about the guy who—”

“Who what?”

You chew on your bottom lip, “nothing.”

“Well,” he nods at the grump sitting in the booth who you see smiling for the very first time, “I couldn’t get you out of my head after that night. You felt…you were…Fuck. I’m so glad I found you.”

“Actually,” you beam at him, twisting around in his hold, “I found you.”

His mouth quirks to the side, “not really. I tried dropping hints but that didn’t seem to be working.”

You scoff, “what hints? Flirting with me in front of a bunch of kids and animals?”

He rolls his eyes, “I’m not the best at it, okay?”

“Where are we going?”

“To finish what we started.”

You freeze, breaking out of his hold.

“What?”

He turns around, face scrunched up, “what?”

“I mean,” you tug at your collar, “I’m—yeah…”

He grabs your shoulders, laughing heartily to expose his teeth, “you said you’re free now, right? Your shift ended?”

You nod, mind going hazy when you can finally place that heady scent to his handsome features.

“Then, let’s go finish this—” he holds up the pizza “—and talk.”

“Okay.”

However, once you’re seated in his car, you surge forward and wrap your arms around his neck, capturing his lips in a heated kiss. He makes a noise of surprise, arms encircling your waist to pull you onto his lap.

“We’re—” he speaks between kisses, groaning when your teeth catch on his bottom lip “—supposed to be talking.”

“I don’t wanna talk,” you breathe, burying your hands in his hair, “I want you. Right now.”

His nails drag along the skin of your thigh, tossing his head back when you kiss down the column of his throat, tongue curling at the base. You rock into his lap, moaning into his mouth when he bucks his hips in retaliation, large bulge grinding onto your clit.

With a grunt, he slots his fingers into your hair and yanks your head back, nosing up your jaw.

“Let’s take this to the back, hm?”

He mouths at your neck, lingering on the junction between your neck and shoulder to nip at the skin there.

You shiver, heat pooling in your abdomen, “someone will see us.”

“No one’s around,” he husks, fondling your breasts through the fabric of your shirt.

Propping one leg over the seat, you make your way to the back of his car. Unprepared for the burn of his hand meeting your ass.

He twists around, covering your lips with his once again as he sits down next to you, parting when he pulls his shirt over his head.

With ravenous touches, you suckle down his chest, nimble fingers working on unbuttoning his pants as you flick your tongue over his nipple. A gush of your slick floods your panties when you hear him whimper.

Hand on your shoulder, he pushes you down on the seat roughly, silver chain hanging over your face as he makes quick work of removing your shorts and panties in one go. Parting your legs with a hand on your inner thigh as you take off your shirt.

“To be honest,” he licks his lips, staring at your pussy unabashedly. The hand on your thigh prevents you from closing your legs out of diffidence. “I don’t care.”

“Don’t care ab— Ah fuck, Hoseok,” your eyes fall shut, teeth piercing into your lip when he spits on your cunt, palm coming down on your folds harshly.

Before you can open your eyes again, he draws his hand back and slaps your pussy thrice in quick succession. You can feel your slick splatter against your thighs, clit throbbing in need.

“Please.”

His middle finger circles your leaking hole, the other hand keeping you wide open for him, “please what?”

“Please, need more,” you cry, reaching up to grab the headrest when he smacks your pussy again. You think you might puncture your lips with how hard you’re biting down on them, juices dripping down between your ass cheeks.

“Fuck, haven’t even started yet and you’re messing up my seats,” he growls, laughing condescendingly, “dirty girl.”

“Please just—” he shuts you up with two fingers sinking into your cunt, keeping them there while you thrash beneath him.

“Gotta stretch you out for my cock,” he drags his fingers back out, drawing silent screams from your bitten lips when he crooks his fingers deep inside you, “so fucking tight.”

The lewd squelch of his fingers disappearing into your cunt fills the balmy air. He looks like something out of a wet dream. Light sheen of sweat across his body, sitting between your legs with his lips tucked between his teeth, depraved eyes watching how your pussy swallows up his fingers.

Right when his thumb makes contact with your clit, he adds a third finger, a surge of pleasure courses along your body and you let out a strained moan, sitting up to wrap your hands around his back and fuck yourself on his fingers.

“Fucking hell,” he grits out, grinding the heel of his palm against your slippery clit when you bite down on his shoulder, snapping his fingers into you, “you’re so fucking sexy. Fuck, this pussy is better than I imagined.”

Your stomach twists in desire, heat creeping up your spine as you taste your release, so close to the edge. He pulls your matted hair over your shoulder, peppering kisses along your neck as he moves his fingers in and out of you at breakneck speed, causing your thighs to tremble, signalling that you’re close. He continues to spew words of praise in your ear, warmth filling your heart just as you near the end.

“So fucking beautiful.

“Everything about you is so fucking perfect.”

“Such a perfect ass.”

“Gonna make you mine. This pussy is mine.”

Juices dripping down his hand, you cum with a guttural moan, going lax in his arms as he sets you down on the seat, helping you ride out your high. Through blurry eyes, you watch him pop his fingers in his mouth, arousal thrumming through you when he moans at your taste.

“I’ll eat you out as much as you want next time,” he promises, calloused fingers sliding across the stretchmarks on your thighs, “right now. I need to fuck you.”

He kneels on the seat, the skin of his thigh slotted between your legs as he reaches over into the front seat. Your hand dips below the band of his underwear, taking his cock in your palm and flicking your wrist over the shaft, salivating when you feel how sticky the tip is.

You giggle when you feel his cock twitch in your palm, jerking forward as he returns holding a condom.

Reaching down to tug at the soft skin of his balls, you chase his lips as he bends over, meeting you mouth in a searing kiss, hot and heavy tongue rolling across your own rhythmically just as his velvety cock slides along your palm.

“Fuck, your hand feels good,” he sighs against your lips, one hand holding him above you while the other reaches down to grab your wrist, halting your movement, “but I know what will feel even better.”

In one swift movement, he twists you over so you’re laying on your stomach, needy hands reaching under you to pull your back to an arch. You peek over your shoulder, staying on your hands and knees for him just as he positioned, to see him take the condom packaging between his teeth, tearing at it as he pumps his cock a few times. Your breathing picks up once again when he smacks both your ass cheeks, coming close to your center.

“Hold on tight,” he warns with a smug grin, dusty pink cockhead poking into your ass cheek.

Falling forward, your elbows give out when he sinks into your heat inch by inch, hissing as he stretches out your walls. You could almost cry with how good it feels, a comet of pleasure shooting through with the slightest friction.

You feel him kiss up your spine, his pelvis flush against your ass before he draws his hips back only to sink back in, keeping a bruising hold on your hips.

“You feel so good, fuck,” he curses, flexing his hips to set a pace, earning helpless whines from you as you jolt forward, lips parted to have drool dripping down the side of your face.

He moves your hair to the side, readjusting his position before he starts to pound into you, sweaty skin meeting yours in louds slaps. Your walls quiver when he brushes that sweet spot deep inside you, still buzzing from your first high, hugging his cock tightly.

“Ah, fuck, you’re so fucking tight,” he snarls, reaching down to grip the back of your neck and hold him against your chest, fingers sliding to the front to press into the sides of your neck, cutting off enough air to have you teetering on the edge of your second high.

“Look at you,” he sniggers through gritted teeth, voice strained as he continues to snap his hips into yours, cock dragging across your ridges in merciless strokes.

You whimper when he licks across your cheek, tongue curling into your mouth which you suck on helplessly, nails digging into his forearms. The car rocks and shakes with the movement, but you couldn’t care less if anyone sees you. Trapped in his hold, falling apart as his cock splits you open.

Pliant and boneless. Your head falls back onto his shoulder when he reaches down to toy with your engorged clit. Walls closing around him, you spasm and shiver, mouth hanging open in a silent moan once he loosens his hold around your neck.

“Hoseok…”

You see white dots behind your lids as oxygen puffs out your lungs, cumming on his cock with muted whimpers.

“Shit, shit, I’m cumming. Get on your back, let me see you,” he strains, while you follow his orders on shaky legs, trembling as his cock tugs at your walls. You watch his eyes fall closed when he spills into the condom. Taking one of your tits in his palm as he rides out his high.

You suck in a harsh breath on one particularly hard thrust, reaching up to pull him down by his chain, connecting your lips in a slow, frenzied kiss.

Letting out a contented hum, he pecks your lips once before sitting up on the seat, watching you with hazy eyes. He straightens himself and ties up the condom. You’re busy looking for your underwear when he tosses you a hoodie. ‘Cuddly critters’ written in a fancy font.

“That’s the name of the uhm…petting zoo thing I manage.”

Cheeks aching from how hard you’re smiling, you put on the hoodie and hold your knees up to your chest. You realize that you’ve been wearing your socks the whole time.

“Did you make that up?”

He fits on his pants, nodding meekly, “yeah.”

“It’s cute,” you poke his back, socked foot sliding across his hairy calf, “I like it.”

Two apples form on his cheeks, “I like you, ladybug.”

Your hand flies to your stomach when it growls, and you shoot him a pained look. He smacks his thigh, laughing hysterically.

“You hungry?” He scoots closer to you, coddling you to his chest while you draw circles on his skin.

Shrugging, you glance at the pizza sitting on his dash.

“Starving.”

a/n — if you liked this, please consider dropping a comment/like/reblog or an ask if you’re shy.

⤺masterlist

© aquagustd 2021 do not copy/repost/translate