#both knowingly and unknowingly

[akkivee]

when you invert chuuoku’s pink, you get that green secondary colour attached to bb and with every canon release we get ever closer to bb realising their true potential as chuuoku’s antithesis

[knowlesian]

one of my favorite games to play whenever i rewatch the bear is “spot the very realistic health code/basic kitchen rule violations”

so far my favorite is one of the ones i’ve never seen mentioned: how often people wear their aprons outside the kitchen, which is absolutely a no-no and equally absolutely happens all the goddamned time and i am speaking from a lot of experience on that one

[tiredsadpeach]

Losing my fp is gonna fucking hurt but I just idk I can’t find a way this is gonna end well so I’m coming to terms with it

[empress-simps]

Foolish Heart

Pairing: James Potter x Fem! Reader CW: James being oblivious to reader’s feelings, Sirius teasing, and as always- language. (1.7k words) Summary: You’ve had the biggest crush on James ever since you can remember, so imagine how hard it is to see your best friend since diapers pine over Lily Evans. The other Marauders decided to make James realize who he truly likes all along.

Note: I was listening to Hozier’s (my love) “Almost (Sweet Music)” When I suddenly thought of this idea randomly, soooooo yeah, enjoy! My updates might be slower now since I have school, but my requests/asks are still open if anyone wants to talk to me! I'd still be active on Tumblr : )

Be still, my foolish heart. Don’t ruin this on me.

It was your mantra, every time you saw James. Everything he did was perfect in your eyes; the way he hummed, eyes twinkling as he thought of a plan on how to execute their pranks, down to the way he laughed. It was heavenly, dancing around the air, lingering- as if a beautiful melody waiting to be heard by you.

And yet, you were a silent audience, watching from a far distance as he basks in the glow of Lily Evans.

Lily. The name itself was a symphony, a haunting refrain that echoed in the back of your mind. She was everything you weren’t, couldn’t be—confident, radiant, and effortlessly captivating. Her hair, a cascade of fiery red, framed her face like a halo. And James? Well, he was her devoted troubadour, strumming his heartstrings to the rhythm of her laughter.

He was hypnotized by Lily’s glow; and you were fixed on his warmth. His laughter was like sunlight filtering through leaves, warming the coldest corners of your aching and bitter heart. You wondered if he knew the ache of unrequited love—the way it makes you feel like you’re drowning in heartache, making you gasp for air.

You’d known James since you were in nappies, a strong bond forming from cheeky smiles, little adventures, empty promises, bruised knees, and grass-stained bottoms. Childhood friends; both of you are inseparable. But, unknowingly to the bespectacled boy, you slowly saw him in a different light, making you crave more about what your current relationship with him is.

James was the sun, and you were the moon—forever caught in his orbit, but never close enough to touch.

You watched as he stumbled over his words, trying to impress Lily with Quidditch tales and his pranks. And you? You were the silent observer, scribbling poems in the margins of your potions textbook.

As you settled in your usual seat next to James in the great hall, Sirius grinned, a mischievous glint evident in his eyes. “Sit beside me, pretty girl!”  He pulled you next to him, slinging an arm around your shoulder as he grabbed an apple and handed it to you. “Good morning to you too, Paddie.” You rolled your eyes playfully, obliging and sitting next to the long-haired boy and grabbing your favorite fruit from his grasp.

Remus, the ever observant one out of the group knowingly looks at Sirius as if to say, ‘I know what you’re doing’. Peter only mumbled a ‘good morning’ before going back to shoving his breakfast in his mouth, blissfully unaware of the brewing tension.

James frowned; he didn’t like the change. Not. One. Bit.

This was new- you not sitting beside him? Can someone pinch him right now since the sod thinks he might be dreaming.

James kept his mouth shut, although he couldn’t help but glance every now and then at you and Sirius chatting across the table, sporting a frown as he stabbed the eggs with a rather excessive force before showing the food on his mouth. Of course, his actions didn’t go unnoticed in the eyes of Sirius Black.

“Something wrong, Prongs?” he asked, not even bothering to hide the grin on his face as he leaned in. Never once did James think he would like to see Sirius’ smirk wiped off his face.

“Y/n sits beside me.” His jaw clenched.

You tried your best to act nonchalantly, fighting off the blush forming in your cheeks as you felt the all too familiar butterflies in your stomach.

Ah, the heartache in those words—the unspoken longing. Remus had seen it before, masked behind his bravado. James Potter, the mischief-maker, the Quidditch star, the one who chased after Lily Evans with unwavering determination. But the werewolf knew better. He saw the way he looked at you when he thought no one was watching. The way his laughter softened when you were near. The way he defended you even when you didn’t need defending.

“So? Make Red sit beside you or something.” Sirius raised a brow. You looked at Sirius with a confused look on your face, just what was up with him today?

Red. Lily Evans. The one who James practically confesses his undying love for every week. You know damn well you were not Red, and that you will never be Red.

You were Y/n- the one who held his hand when he was scared of the dark, who followed him on little adventures throughout Potter Manor when you were kids, and the one who exchanged secrets with him with hushed whispers under the moonlit skies.

But being the sod he is, he did. He had hurt you again without even knowing as he invited Lily next to him.

It went on for several weeks, each passing day hurt more than the last. It seemed like he was slowly becoming out of your reach, but Sirius was there, offering you support, and secretly trying to make James realize that he’d been hopelessly in love with you ever since the beginning of time.

The unspoken tension between you grew thicker. Sirius and the others watched, amused and exasperated. Remus, the wise one, shared knowing glances with you. Peter, ever loyal, tried to be mediator between James’s heart and his head.

Then it finally happened, James couldn’t handle it anymore. He cracked.

You were the fresh air he takes in, the anchor that keeps him still, a constant presence in his life. James Potter knew it would hurt if you weren’t by his side, but Merlin- he didn’t know it would hurt this much. He wants you- he needs you.

One stormy night in the Gryffindor Common room was the time he decided to tell you what’s going on in his mind. It was the perfect timing, really. Only him, you and the other Marauders were present in the room, the other students already headed to the dorms, as it was almost curfew.

James sighed, finally standing, and walking towards your direction, his eyes were vulnerable. “Y/n,” he began, voice trembling as he stumbles over his words. “I’ve been an idiot.”

You hummed in agreement, trying to look busy as you reread the last sentence over and over in the page of your book, “That’s not new, Potter.”

“Lily—she’s not the one I want. It’s always been you.”

It felt like the whole world stopped, the fire that was roaring suddenly stilled, your friends sat silently, frozen in shock.  All you can hear is your heart thumping loudly in your chest.

James’ gaze bore into yours, his eyes searching for a response. His hand trembled where it reached for yours, holding it tightly, fearing you'd pull away from his touch.

“James, what? If this is some kind of ploy to play with me-“

“Y/n,” he said, his voice raw, “I’ve loved you since we were kids. I was a bloody fool to deny it every time I see you."

“James,” you whispered, your throat tight, “what about Lily?”

He cupped your face, his thumb brushing your cheek as he chuckled lightly "Evans had noticed it even before I did. Said I was a knobhead for not realizing sooner." he said.

James’s gaze softened.  “You’re the girl who followed me on little adventures, who defended me during Quidditch matches, who knows my deepest fears and silliest dreams. I was fucking terrified to ruin our friendship just because I saw you more than my best friend.”

Biting your lip, you felt the all-too-familiar tears pricking your eyes. His confession made your insides warm, fuzzy, and light. You never told him how you truly felt- keeping it to yourself as you watched him chase after Lily, being supportive of him even though it kills you inside. You could deal with that; you’d be happy as long as James would be happy. Even if it’s with Lily.

Although, he was here, in front of you. Telling you that he also loves you, that he hadn’t realized it until years after.

“James, you were never just a best friend to me.” You whispered, “I was scared- terrified that you would never see me in the way that I saw you. I didn’t tell you because I would rather love you in the sidelines rather than lose you altogether.”

James’ eyes softened, he leaned closer to you; his forehead touching yours, his breath fanning your lips as he smiled softly. “I wouldn’t let you do that now, you’d be in the center of my life, where you belong.”

He placed his hand gently on your back, pulling you closer to him. “Let’s not waste any more time, yeah? We already did that for most of our years already.” James didn’t wait for you to reply when he leaned down and kissed you, cupping your face gently.

Neither of you heard your friends cheering, the fire crackling, or the rain tapping out your window.

In that moment, it felt as if you and James were the only ones in the world, you were in your own little bubble of happiness. Both of you had foolish hearts, and it had finally found each other after years and years of looking.

[ladystoneboobs]

idt we talk enough about how a song of ice and fire is also the song of incest and cannibalism. i mean, sure, obviously both of those subjects are noted as present, but the saga feels much more known for its incest, which idt is fair or accurate to the later materiel. iirc, jaime fucking cersei next to their dead firstborn is the last instance of onpage incest happening in present tl, and after that it's all about the cannibals, baby.

(disclaimer: cw/tw sa, cw/tw rape, and i'm not counting cousincest as that's normal in-world even for non-targaryens and also still legal in many places in our world today, nor counting the faux-incestuous freudian mess that is littlefinger/alayne(sansa)/sweetrobin, nor any dark humor jokes and/or unfulfilled threats wrt forced cannibalism)

in fact pretty much all the active incest during the present tl happens in those first 3 books:

the twincest as a major plot point ofc, kicking action off when bran saw them fucking in a tower

and viserys creeping on dany and twisting her nipple

tyrion relating his backstory to bronn wherein he and tysha were both raped by proxy by his father, tywin (tho tyrion does not use that terminology)

craster still being alive to rape and impregnate his own daughters (resulting in dozens of forced incestuous relationships)

and theon unknowingly groping his own sister while she (knowingly) groped him in return

jaime's early pov recalled how he shut up cersei with kissing when they fought after bran refused to die

bella of stoney sept trying and failing to seduce gendry who is (unbeknownst to them both) her half-brother as both were sired by robert baratheon (only example in these 3 books where incest was averted before any sexual activity or incestuous contact occurred)

the aforementioned sept twincest next to joffrey's corpse

tyrion learning from oberyn about cersei twisting his penis when he was a baby

cersei's failed attempt to seduce jaime in wst, pulling out his dick for either a bj or hj until her talk of tyrion's death made him lose his boner

while incest is not exactly absent from the text after that, it seems to exist in the feastdance only in hypotheticals or past memories:

aeron's trauma flashbacks of his (implied only in published text) csa by euron

jaime still feeling lust when seeing cersei nude

and her fond reminiscing about them fucking behind robert's back/brief dream of them as a married couple before her walk of shame

and cersei remembering another she twisted tyrion's baby penis

victarion misinterpreting asha's offer of partnership as a marriage proposal and suddenly looking at his niece in a new way with "his manhood beginning to stiffen"

jaime's recollection of fucking cersei at darry next to robert as he was passed out drunk before cersei sent him to hunt arya (which would have happened back in agot and the point of this scene is more his failed hunt for a child just to make cersei happy)

arianne's "uneasy" memory of a past fantasy about being seduced by a man whose description is suspiciously similar to her late uncle oberyn

the aborted marital match of aegon/young griff to his purported aunt dany

illyrio saying (the now dead) viserys tried to rape dany the night before her wedding to drogo (another event from agot concerning a guy we already knew was into incest)

and tyrion once saying he wanted to rape as well as murder cersei

conversely, the cannibalism in the earlier books is most often only unproven hypotheticals alluded to as possible cannibalism:

old nan saying the others fed their dead servants the flesh of human children (which we have not yet seen with any wights so far, whether or not one counts walking undead eating human flesh as straight-up cannibalism)

the mystery meat in flea bottom's bowls o' brown which may or may not contain symon silver tongue after tyrion had him killed

renly's recollection that cressen kept stannis from catapulting their old master-at-arms by saying they may need to eat him later (which did not come to pass thanks to davos)

joffrey telling his people to eat their own dead (with no way of knowing if any actually did)

lady hornwood eating her own fingers (though bran's pov only notes them being chewed on, not swallowed. it's only in adwd that people talk of her eating the fingers.)

the mentions of the ice river clans being the cannibals beyond the wall (who are def not among the free folk jon snow gets to know onpage, making it just background detail)

bran's (possibly mythical) story of the rat cook

and biter chewing on people he attacked and other corpses (which seems to be just a side hobby connected to his killing method moreso constituting a snack than a full meal from a person butchered for meat. this tendancy of his is just background detail in acok, with biter chewing a corpse in the background after the weasel soup operation, and the hindsight implication that it could well have been him rather than dogs or wolves who had "been at" the corpses after the skirmish where yoren was killed)

while the feastdance feels much more in your face with cannibalism, having not only more total mentions of the practice but also more confirmed, actual cannibalism (as opposed to the ambiguity of each and every bowl o' brown), for those who know how to look at the evidence:

jaime learned that his father's mad dog aka the mountain fed parts of vargo hoat to all his prisoners (including vargo himself) after recapturing harrenhal

and euron bragged about pulling a similar trick with the warlocks he captured (the only twist being that the warlocks knew what they were being forced to eat, which vargo hoat and wylis manderly etc at harrenhal likely didn't)

the elder brother of the quiet isle told of biter eating all of a woman's breasts at saltpans after she'd been raped and killed (prob the largest amount of flesh biter's confirmed to have eaten from one corpse)

bran and co. ate "pig" supplied by coldhands which had to be long pig aka human meat

brienne felt her face being eaten by biter in her own pov (which is so much worse than him chewing others in the background of the weasel soup scene)

theon was told that two ironmen at moat cailin were found eating their dead comrades

the astapori were said to eat their own dead while under siege by the yunkishmen

and then were said to do so again in refugee camps outside meereen

sam and davos sailed past skagos and remembered stories of skagosi cannibalism

khrazz the pit fighter cut the hearts from his defeated foes to eat them

cotter pyke's last letter to jon snow said the wildlings were eating their own dead at hardhome

4 of stannis's men were executed by burning for butchering and eating other men (with asha wondering how many others had done so without being caught)

and ofc the frey pies with wyman manderly having his 3 former guests killed and serving their meat to their own kin and the other guests at ramsay's wedding while eating some himself too

two of these examples (involving gregor clegane and euron greyjoy) must have actually happened during the course of asos, but grrm chose to give us the gruesome details in affc, which was brand new information about men we already knew were villains but did not know were into that fucked-up shit specifically, unlike being reminded that agot-era jaime and viserys wanted to fuck their sisters. (and not unlike how adwd has the clarification of multiple characters saying lady hornwood ate her own fingers as opposed to bran's acok pov just saying she chewed on them.) it's as if after craster was killed and jc effectively broke up grrm decided cannibalism was the taboo subject matter he would fill the later books with, so we'd really feel the increasing danger of starvation-induced cannibalism with winter's arrival (and have no trouble believing rickon's new home of skagos really is a cannibal island). however, in-universe it feels like there's some sort of environmental balance connection so that the decrease in one formerly common behaviorial abomination just allows another such abomination to fill in the gap with a sharp increase in activity, like deer overpopulation resulting from lack of predators as if all the active incest somehow stopped more people from eating themselves or other people.

[virgil-anon]

The tomarry micro trope that gets me giggling every time is when Tom is trying to find a way to make Harry immortal with him because he's THAT obsessed and that much of a simp, meanwhile Harry's either knowingly or unknowingly immortal already, either from being Tom's horcrux or being the master of death

And I just love it

Tom: here, I've found a ritual to bind your life to mine so we can both live forever!

Harry:

Harry: Tom I CANT DIE

[gothic-thoughts]

Clearing Up Confusion

(sry its so long, i got a lil down bad i love him sm 😭)

Michael Myers x Black Fem Reader Smut

MDNI, AsylumPatient!Michael, Nurse!Reader, Forbidden Love, Virgin!Michael

Part 1: Right Here

Part 2: Right Here

Part 3: Right Here

CW: Confused Michael lol, afab parts mentioned, groping/palming, ✋🏾job, riding

TW: quick murder mention

Word Count: 2229 (give or take)

Michael didn't get it.

After months of knowing her, he still couldn't understand why (Y/n)'s body was always so... animated. Her hanging earrings bounced when she walked and her box braids swayed when she shook her head— on top of that, she was jiggly. Top, middle...bottom. 

He didn't understand and it made him mad.

She walks into the cafeteria, those plump, dark thighs wiggling under her white nurse dress— as usual. (Y/n) glances over with a small wave but he doesn’t respond despite his attraction to her, he only squints behind that orange mask as she disappears between the kitchen doors. A couple minutes later, the nurse walks back out, still unaware of her slightly bouncing ass and thighs as she sipped from a small paper cup.

“See ya tomorrow, Mikey!”

Cold blue eyes follow her until she vanishes from them when stepping through the open cafeteria doors. Michael turns to look over his left shoulder and then his right, noting the two security guards standing behind him with tight grips on his chains. He knows that they’ll either try to stop him or go with him if he leaves— he just wants to talk to her in peace. He resets his position before gazing back down at his cold, untouched food. 

The killer then slowly stands up, his almost 7-foot form casting an imposing shadow over the guards as he turns to face them. The guards immediately recoil and reach for their tasers but as soon as they do both of Michael’s hands grab their necks and simultaneously break them before dropping them to the floor with thuds, disregarding the cameras. He then turns to look at the exit.

Michael followed his nurse’s footsteps down the hall until he found her in the next, still drinking her water— still jiggling, unaware that one of the most violent and murderous patients escaped. Before he could grab her, another nurse turned the corner at the other end of the hall and gasped, stammering incoherently. (Y/n)’s steps slow down from her confusion, unknowingly making it easier for him.

“The hell is your problem— Mmh!?”

Michael’s hand suddenly covers her mouth, muffling her screams as he walks her back to his room. He shuts the door with a loud slam before turning and walking over to her.

“Hey, hey!” She called, eyebrows furrowed at him.

The Shape freezes.

“What did I say about the manhandling?”

His body tenses knowingly. He was so eager to see her, that he completely disregarded their agreement.

“Didn’t I say that if you wanna touch me, you gotta be gentle?”

He takes another step then gently places his fingers on her cheek, delicately stroking her cheek to show her understood— to show he was sorry. The gesture made her laugh a little, the sound, in turn, soothing his nerves as he continued to pet her like he would his masks. He didn’t like when she was disappointed in him; he wouldn’t even know what to do with himself if she was ever mad at him.

“It’s alright, you just scared the shit outta me. Now, why’d you need me so bad?”

He just stares down at her for a second, head tilting as he examines the unusual stillness of her body.

“Mikey...?” (Y/n) called, reaching out to rub his arm, “Michael, what’s the matter?”

Michael wordlessly spun the nurse around by her shoulders then guided her forward until her breasts and stomach were pressed against the wall next to his door, pinning her between him and the cement as gently as he could. He crouches down behind her so he can begin his analysis, starting with the jiggle in her thighs right as they stop. He got it: it was her movement; it had everything to do with why she was so jiggly. He gently swats the left one to truly confirm his observation.

“Wha— hey!” She squirms, “What are you— hey! Michael! Where is this coming from?”

Keeping one large hand pressed against her lower back, Michael uses the other finger to curiously poke and prod at (Y/n)’s left thigh. He then swats the right, making her tense then chuckle uncomfortably at his cluelessness but it was cut short with a sharp gasp when Michael squeezes the left thigh just under her ass, watching the smooth, dark flesh rise like bread between his spread fingers.

“Okay, okay, I get it: you like my thighs. Is that really why you pulled me in here?”

He didn’t even grunt out a response. He was damn near ignoring her with every poke and caress he gave her thighs. He wasn’t even aware of how perverted he was being, he was just so immersed, a contrast to how angry his confusion made him earlier. His cold, inexperienced hand slowly slid up the back of her thigh until it rested on her butt, the boldness making her gasp sharply.

“Hey!”

(Y/n) reached back to swat it away, making him look up at her with a head tilt.

“You can’t touch me there, Michael, I’m your nurse!”

He was confused again. Why would she say that to him? He knows that.

He brushes it off and focuses back on her ass, treating it the same way he did her thighs: with experimental pokes, squishes, and smacks, but it eventually gave him a result he wasn’t expecting: a soft hum. He stops, head tilting again. Michael smacks her ass again, granting more jiggling and another hum from her.

“Alright, that’s enough. I know you’re curious but...” She shivers at the next smack, gulping thickly, “I'm your nurse, you can’t feel me up like this.”

More confusion: why does she keep saying that like he doesn’t know? 

He stands up behind her, instantly towering as he gently grabs her hips and pulls her back his cold body until his pelvis is pressed firmly against her lower back. She tilts her head back and looks up at that orange mask, waiting for him to move away, continue groping, anything but he remains still, seemingly done but when (Y/n) tries to move he holds her against him with a soft grunt. Little did she know, Michael was looking down at her with some kind of desire— a desire he felt before.

He was lost again, but this time it was combined with worry. Something about how she was looking up at him, how warm she was, how jiggly she was made his desire to kill grow... but he didn’t want to kill her. He knew he didn’t, the thought of hurting her made him mad at himself. In the end, he began groping her furiously hoping the feeling would go away.

“Mmh, Michael—”

He tunes her out, trying to focus on the warmth of her body as his big, rough, inexperienced hands roam up and down her curves, but it is torment: calming him down while still riling up his bloodlust. His hands reach around, worshipping her breasts, grasping at her tummy, caressing her thighs, and squishing her butt, all of which made more gasps and hums come out of her. He grabbed the inside of her thighs and that made her thighs part a little more as a soft moan of his name slipped out. Michael’s hands pause as he finally acknowledges the stiffness that pressing against her soft butt and making his sweats tighter.

“Oh god...” (Y/n) breathes out, palming the wall, “Did you make yourself hard?”

He tilts his head.

“Hard, y’know, horny? You never felt that before?”

He adjusts his head, hands refusing to leave your sides as he processes the fact that he isn’t feeling bloodlust, just the regular kind.

“Ugh, okay, lemme think... Does it hurt?”

A subtle nod.

“Of course it does.” She sighs shakily, trying to ignore the size of him against her crack, “Um, fuck, I’ll have to help you, won’t I? Dammit, I’ll lose my job.”

Michael’s hands tighten on her sides, lowering to her hips to pull her back again.

“Wait... they can’t really fire me, can they? They need me, right? This is the calmest you’ve ever been thanks to me.”

He hunches over (Y/n) and buries his mask in the side of her neck as he hugs her— something she’s only recently taught him how to do. She chuckles at the gesture but it’s replaced with a soft hum when he starts humping his aching erection against her ass, his hips gradually moving faster the closer he pulls her back to him. She lets out a shaky breath.

“Okay, okay, okay; I’ll help you, but you gotta be gentle and listen to everything I say, alright?”

Michael nods into her neck, the papier-mâché mask scratching between her chin and shoulder.

“It might get a little hot, you sure you wanna keep your mask on?”

Another nod.

“First, go lay back on your bed.”

His heavy body practically disappeared from the nurse’s back and when she turned she found him already laid back on his shitty mattress with his large cock twitching and trying to stand in his pants. She gulped as she made her way over, kicking off her heels and mentally preparing herself for everything: her explanation if her boss caught them, the ridicule if anyone else caught them... the fat cock practically dying to be let out. (Y/n) takes a breath as she pulls down his pants and underwear, letting all 9 inches spring free which earned a soft sigh from behind that mask.

“Holy fuck...” She whispers, her mouth-watering before she composes herself, “I mean, um, better?”

Another subtle nod. The nurse hesitantly dropped her panties to the floor and stepped out of them before climbing on the bed and straddling the behemoth’s muscular thighs, the action making her dress hiked up over her ass as she stared down at the throbbing dick standing before her pelvis. (Y/n) takes a breath and wraps her hand around the pole, stroking from the wide base to the tip, making it leak effortlessly.

“Good god, where were you hiding this shit?”

Michael tilts his head back into his pillow with a huff every time her hand passed over the leaky, sensitive tip that he was grinding against her butt, his eyes closing at the new sensation.

 

“You like that? Feels better?”

He nods, hair disheveled all over his pillow. His nurse watches his chest rise and fall with every stroke over his pulsing veins, the sight making her drip onto him as she began humping him to get her own pleasure. Michael suddenly grabs her wrist with a huff, trying to convey the message of wanting it faster but his nurse thought he was being needy and carefully moved a little higher on his body with her palms planted firmly on his clothed chest.

“Be gentle, okay?”

He was confused again but remained still to see what she was going to do since she held his cock upright. The killer’s body tensed slightly when she started to lower her cunt on him with groans through every inch until her jiggly form was somewhat seated on his lap. His eyes were wide behind the mask, watching her breasts rise and fall to the beat of her shaky breath as her tight, wet channel slid down his shaft. (Y/n) tenses, gripping his shoulders tightly to which he abruptly sits up and grabs her hips to steady her on his lap.

"Yup, like that. You're gonna just hold my hips, okay?"

He grunts lowly behind the mask and guides her the rest of the way down until her cheeks are squished against his thighs. She looked up at him, already weak from the delicious feeling of his cockhead pressing on her cervix and his pulse throbbing against her g-spot. (Y/n) shivers in an attempt to control herself enough to tell him what was next but she was caught off guard by him starting to drag her up and down his fat cock by her hips.

“Wha- how d-do you... know how to...” Her mind trails off from her body already seeking an orgasm, “Oh my god, Mike... right there...”

Hearing praise from his favorite nurse always made Michael’s heart skip a beat regardless of him never showing it but now he made sure (Y/n) could feel just how much he loved hearing her approval even if it came in the form of moans and grunts. Her whimpers and groans were suddenly accompanied by a shaky hand that reached between them and pressed to his pelvis, trying to slow his thrusts while wet, squelching echoed off the cement walls of his room.

“M-Mikey, wait, big guy. Gimme a...” She trails off, eyes rolling back, “A... a fuckin’ minute, didn’t expect you to be so... ugh, my god, yess~”

The Boogeyman stopped moving her for a moment only to grab her wrists as gently as he could and hold them behind her back with one hand while the other gripped her hip firmly before both hands worked together to resume her bounces her on his lap. She gasps out, throwing her head back and arching her back as she cums hard, her pussy spasming around him as he continues to wordlessly bounce her on his lap and fuck her through an intense, eye-crossing orgasm.

"Michael... Mikey, you're doing amazing, b-baby~"

She looks up at him, amazed and already dizzy from how steady and sure he was moving her, every drop followed by barely a huff. Not every lift from exertion, every fucking drop. He wasn't tired. Hell, he was never tired. (Y/n) clenched her fists behind her back tightly and moaned loudly with how delicious each stroke against her g-spot and hit against her cervix felt, glad she didn't have to teach him a goddamn thing.

But in the back of her mind she got the feeling that she might need to teach the Boogeyman was how to stop.

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(a/n): I cut it short tbh, but lmk if yall want it longer 💙💙

[youaintnothinbuta]

Howdy! I would like to order something from Willy Wonka (2023) In which Willy unknowingly falls in love with Reader. He consults Noodle (also Lofty) and ends up also realizing that he gets jealous when he sees Reader's interaction with a boy (And sorry if my English is bad! The english it's not my first language)

Thank you for this request, it lowkey made me blush and kick my feet while writing it, and I have a part 2 already lined up if anyone wants that !!

“Are you asking me on a date, William Wonka?” — willy wonka x reader

Summary: Willy confides in Noodle about his growing feelings for you, leading to a revelation of his love. The next day, with Noodle's insight, Willy and you share a moment of intimacy in his room, and he nervously invites you on a date, admitting his feelings.

Pairing: Timothee!Willy Wonka x fem!reader (help never thought I’d be writing this but here we are)

Word count: 758

Warnings: disgustingly innocent fluff and maybe some typos

Part two here!

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Willy quietly made his way though the dusty, creaky hallway of Ms Scrubbit’s penitentiary, to Noodle’s room, as he could still see a faint glow coming from her lantern, a hopeful sign she was still awake.

“Noodle,” he said as he jumped into her presence, startling her slightly.

Noodle looked up from her book, noting the turmoil on Willy’s face.

“Something on your mind?” She asked.

Willy sighed, slumping onto the floor. “Yeah, something. Something I can’t quite put my finger on.”

Noodle, with her licorice wand in hand, responded, “Spill it, Willy. What's on your mind?”

Willy scratched the back of his head. “It’s Y/N. I mean, we’re friends, right? But lately, it’s like… I don’t know.” He trailed off, unsure of if what he was saying even mattered.

Noodle grinned knowingly, “Go on.”

“I just feel like I constantly want her, you know, around.”

Noodle grabbed her pillow and shoved her face in it to conceal a squeal.

“I knew it!” She cheered, “I knew it!”, she repeated herself more quietly, realising it was late at night.

“What?” Willy asked, his curiosity peaked.

“You’re in love.” Noodle smiled.

“Oh, I don’t think I—“ his sentence was cut short by Noodle.

“Imagine her with another man. How does that make you feel?”

Willy shrugged, attempting nonchalance. “It’s fine.”

Noodle arched an eyebrow. “Willy, you’re a terrible liar. Think about it, and be honest with yourself.”

Willy frowned, pondering Noodle’s words. A subtle realisation dawned on him as he recalled moments when you interacted with others. An undercurrent of unease washed over him. “Alright. Maybe I don’t like it.”

Noodle grinned. “You have to tell her, you have to!”

Willy’s eyes widened, “No! I can’t do that.”

“Why not?” She frowned.

Willy sighed, still grappling with the revelation. “But what if she doesn’t feel the same? What if it ruins everything?”

Noodle chuckled. “You won’t know unless you try. Maybe you should let her decide how she feels.”

After a long chat, Willy and Noodle decided it was best to call it a night, otherwise they’d both be scolded by Ms Scrubbit and Bleacher for being tired or slow or who knows what else.

***

The next day, you, along with Willy, Noodle, and the other poor unfortunate souls that were indebted to Ms Scrubbit were up at the crack of dawn, ready for another day of scrubbing, washing, and more scrubbing.

Noodle, with her newfound knowledge of Willy’s feelings for you, couldn’t help but notice you sneaking peaks at Willy, constantly. Every time she caught you looking, she’d go up to Willy and whisper to him, causing quite the unspoken tension between you and him.

Later that night, Willy was sat in his little room, fashioning all kinds of chocolatey creations.

“What could he possibly be up to now?” You spoke, thinking out loud as you stood at his doorway.

“Y/N!” He stood up, his heart racing by your unexpected visit.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to startle you,” you giggled.

“No, no, you didn’t. I was just caught up in my chocolate musings." Willy smiled, trying to play off the moment.

You couldn't help but be fascinated by the chocolate wonderland around you. Willy, in his element, gestured toward the intricate machines and delicious creations. “This is where the magic happens,” he explained, a spark of passion in his eyes.

As you both leaned in to inspect a particularly intricate chocolate, your hands accidentally brushed against each other. There was a subtle pause, a shared moment of warmth that lingered longer than necessary. Willy felt a tingle down his spine, and for a brief moment, it seemed as if time stood still.

Clearing his throat, Willy broke the silence. “Would you like to try something special?” he offered, holding out a beautifully crafted chocolate truffle.

You accepted it with a smile, savoring the rich taste that melted on your tongue. Willy watched you intently, his eyes reflecting a mix of anticipation and something deeper.

“You have a way with chocolate,” you complimented, breaking the spell.

Willy grinned, his usual charismatic demeanor returning. “Well, it is my trade.”

Before you left for the night, Willy hesitated, a nervous energy surrounding him. “I was going to sneak out of here tomorrow, go into town for a bit,” he began, “you’re welcome to join me.”

A playful smile danced on your lips. “Are you asking me on a date, William Wonka?”

He chuckled nervously, “Well, yes, I suppose I am.”

Your heart warmed, and you replied, “I'd love that, Willy.”

Part two here !

[disneyprincemuke]

to forget you * cl16

you avoided alcohol to forget the likes of charles, but he coped by drowning himself in the very same thing that reminded him of you

pairings: charles leclerc x fem!reader

warnings: mention of alcohol, borderline alcoholism

notes: omGgGg i loVED THIS!! i can’t wait to post the last part hehe it’s gonna be greAt!! my ask is open for requests, btw, so please go ahead! <3

(i quit drinking) // (to forget you) // (you called)

charles nurses the glass of scotch on the table, elbow propped up on the kitchen island with his shoulders slumped. he’s wiping off the droplets of condensation on the side to keep his thoughts minimal.

“you’re drinking awfully slow tonight,” pierre teases across the island, raising an eyebrow cautiously at his friend. “something wrong?”

charles looks up, meeting his eyes. he tilts his head and narrows his eyes down. is it really that obvious? “what do you mean?”

pierre’s eyes trail down to the glass. it’s just as full as it was 20 minutes ago when he poured it for charles. charles follows his gaze and internally sighs.

of course, it’s odd that he’s only taking sips of his drink. ever since you both came to the conclusion of your split, he’s been drinking his nights away. excessively.

though, it wasn’t even a drastic change from his routine. he is always drinking; be it with his friends or team. the reason he’s drowning himself in alcohol has changed drastically over the past few weeks. he’s no longer drinking for the fun of it.

he’s drinking to forget you — the way he would watch your back rise and fall every morning, how your bare back felt against his chest, how you would sit up with the blankets loosely draped over your body when he comes in with coffee.

he’s desperately trying to forget the sound of your voice in the morning and the way your lips felt against his skin. nothing he does seems to be enough.

about a week after, in the middle of drinks with carlos, he had imagined you with other guys. making you bubble up in your contagious laughter, the skin by your eyes crinkling when you smile and how your nose scrunches up when you speak.

he threw up right after that.

realistically, he can’t handle the thought of you with someone else. he doesn’t even want to think about the possibility that you never liked him as much as you said you did.

how can something filled with so much passion and fire just burn out so quick?

he falls asleep every night with your name on his tongue, muttering about how much he misses you. his sober self isn’t aware but half the grid is aware of the break up from all his drunken whispers with himself when he thinks nobody is listening.

everybody doesn’t bring it up, simply because he doesn’t.

he wakes up in the morning, hands patting the empty side of the bed searching for your presence. in the middle of the night, he pulls the blankets tighter over his body as if you were there wrestling him for it.

“is something wrong? you never turn scotch down,” pierre laughs, pointing at this drink knowingly. but the worried stint in his eye almost makes charles roll his eyes. it’s the same damn thing he sees from everyone else who has a slight idea of the break up. “you’re not well?”

charles shakes his head. he licks his lips and bit down on his bottom lip. he’s not sure why he doesn’t feel the need to drink either.

the alcohol didn’t make missing you any easier. if anything, it’s made it all the more harder. with every sip, he just found himself missing you more, fingertips dancing above his screen as he ponders if you’d pick up if he called.

there was something about the hollow and yearning feeling in his chest that he strangely likes. maybe it’s the karma for jumping person to person.

sure, charles leclerc is known for moving on faster than the average person. however, there was something different about the pain moving away from a 5 month relationship.

he still has the hairtie you’d unknowingly left on his bathroom sink. in a hangover once, he dragged his feet across his apartment and caught sight of it unexpectedly.

he broke down in a crying and sputtering mess before he passed out by the edge of the bed. he woke up muttering your name again.

“is it the breakup?”

charles looks up again, almost appalled at the assumption. pierre is right, of course, but is it not such an outrageous guess out of nowhere?

he can’t possibly push pierre away as well while he’s in this break up blue. his sadness is so strong and it’s not like he is quiet about it. he’s heard that it’s started to get dangerously contagious with alcohol in the mix.

charles notices the fewer invitations he’s gotten to grab drinks. which is why he’s not particularly surprised, or offended, that max had left him out of the house party he’s throwing over the summer break.

so he just shrugs. he’s not sure he’s ever going to be ready to admit that he truly felt for you despite the alcohol defining most of your relationship’s highs. “i think so.”

pierre just nods. he shoots charles a hesitant look, before turning back to the stove.

charles sighs audibly again, shoulders slumping even more. he looks at his phone sitting on the edge of the counter. it doesn’t light up like he expects it. it doesn’t even buzz.

fine, he thinks, i’ll drink.

just as charles lifts the glass from the counter, his phone lights up and start buzzing in the corner of his eye. he blinks once, making sure it’s not his delusions playing with him.

he hasn’t drank all that much, right?

“are you going to pick up the phone?” pierre asks, hand on his hip, glaring at charles from across the counter. he has a spatula in his hand, pointed directly at him.

charles now knows he shouldn’t have picked up his phone and looked at the caller id first. he should have just answered without hesitation.

with your picture taking up his entire screen with your name, he completely freezes. he’s staring down at it, still blinking to make sure it’s not one of his cruel dreams haunting him once more.

he takes a deep breath, sliding his finger across the screen. “hello?”

“oh, you picked up.”

[defire]

What if a group of fucked up, sadistic "heroes" took both a whumper and the whumper's Whumpee into their custody? Either knowingly (victim blaming) or unknowingly?

Imagine the Whumpee being put in the same cell as their (old?) whumper,

Is the whumper afraid of what the "heroes" will do to them? Or do they mock the Whumpee still?

Do they try to whump the Whumpee even in their current situation?

The possibilities!

Everybody's asks have me so excited, thank you!

Whumper gets imprisoned with whumpee!

Content: begging, imprisonment, surveillance, sadistic whumpers, whumper turned whumpee, whumpee turned (reluctant) caretaker, beatings, creepy whumper, whumpee turned whumper

"Not together--wait! Don't leave us together, please!" Whumpee screaming after their captors as they leave.

As soon as the doors close whumper immediately takes whumpee by the collar, slamming them into the wall, "what did you fucking tell them?!"

"well isn't this nice... Just the two of us."

Whumpee backing to the corner of the cell and taking exactly the space in which they sit, leaving the rest of the space for whumper to claim.

Whumper thrown back in the cell after "interrogation", bruised and exhausted, slumping down against the far wall with a grunt of pain. "How does it feel?" Whumpee asks. Whumper just groans a "fuck you."

Whumper scooting closer and closer to whumpee, making whumpee extremely uncomfortable... Especially when they glance at whumper and see a hopeful smile on their face.

"Whumpee, whumpee... You know these guys right? So, how do you get on their good side?"

Whumpee torn between making friends with their only cellmate and getting revenge on whumper, snapping angrily at them while they roughly tend their wounds.

Whumper laughing at whumpee's confusion and egging them on. "Come on, you know you love me."

Whumpee coming back in from being interrogated and slumping down. Whumper smirks at them and whumpee, no longer afraid of them, sighs and buries their head in their arms. "I'm not in the mood."

Whumper silently (annoyed) taking care of whumpee because they need a cellmate to torment.

Whumpee sullenly letting them without looking at whumper.

Whumpee screaming "don't you fucking touch me!"

Whumper's once-frightening flaws now look pathetic in this context. Pushiness becomes begging, "sadist" becomes "creep", pride becomes anxiety. It was always there but whumpee feels stupid for not recognizing it before.

"I can't take it, please, I just want it to stop," whumper is the one in pain now. "Please, whumpee, get them to help me." Whumpee glares sideways at them, delivering one of whumper's own answers back at them. "Tough it out; it's not that bad."

Whumper trying to steal whumpee's blanket and they get into a full-out brawl until whumpee realizes they're beating the crap out of whumper and almost enjoying it. They stop themselves and grab their blanket, and yank away whumper's blanket as well for good measure, stalking back to their corner and huddling up under them.

[syluscore]

Cameras

~Leon Kennedy x fem! Reader~

Word count combined for both parts one and two: 8277

PART TWO

Content warnings: smut, sexual content, stalker leon, obsessed leon, male masturbation times 2, female masturbation, panty sniffing, nude taking, breaking into readers place, exhibitionist seemingly unknowingly but knowingly both times, voyeurism? maybe, reader and leon never actually talk

!!!!!MINORS DNI! GHOSTKENNEDY IS STRICTLY 18+!!!!!!

You didn’t mean to find out, it’s not as if you had been looking for anything. You didn’t even know there was something to be found at all. All you did was set up a couple of cameras inside your house to see what your cats did while you were away. The next day when you got a notification on your phone indicating a motion detected person, you thought great, the system is already bugged. How do they somehow mistake a cat for a person? It was a pretty cheap set up though so you guess you get what you paid for. 

When you clicked the notification and the app opened up, you damn near dropped your phone when you saw someone’s back facing the camera as they looked through your bookshelf. What are the odds the day after you get cameras, someone breaks into your house? You were ready to call the police to report that your cameras were recording your home being broken into when the figure turned around and that’s when you saw his face.

Leon S. Kennedy was in your house. You couldn’t believe it at first, so you sat silently watching him. You kept checking over your shoulder to make sure none of your coworkers saw what you were looking at. How would they react to seeing their superior wandering around some house on their coworkers phone? How do you explain something like that? Would you tell them the truth, fuck, would anyone even believe you? You fail at convincing yourself that that’s the reason you’re keeping this to yourself. Deep down you know you want to protect the man; at least until you find out for yourself what the hell he’s doing. What the hell is he doing?

He walked around as though he was intimately familiar with the place. He picked up the book you’d been reading off of your coffee table and flipped to the page you were on. He ran his finger down the page with a smirk on his face. Why in the world was he smirking at your book like that? As if this isn’t already fucking weird, but then you remembered. You stayed up late reading a few chapters and stopped when you had gotten to a smut scene. You wanted to properly enjoy it, so you put in your bookmark and were saving it for tonight.

He closed the book back up and set it down on your coffee table, exactly as you had laid it down there the previous night. He made his way to your bedroom and opened up the top drawer of your dresser. You blushed as he felt around your undergarments like a determined man on a mission.  He was somehow chaotically, yet methodically ruffling through the pieces of clothing. It seemed he was familiar with the items before him, that even through the chaos, he could recognize and log in his mind what was there. After he had finished going through the entire drawer, he sat his hands on the dresser top, tilted his head back with his eyes closed, and sighed, or at least it looked like a sigh. He closed the drawer and headed to the other side of your room.

He picked up the hamper holding your dirty clothes and poured it out over your bed and rifled through that too. Your whole body felt flushed as he continued his search. Once he was satisfied with his search, he just stood there with an intense look on his face. You watched as his right hand slid down to his groin and he palmed himself through his pants. When he pulled his hand away, even with the shit quality camera, you could see how hard he was. There was no more pretending to convince yourself that maybe he was doing research on you; no matter how out of the code of conduct it was. Leon seemed like the man to use any means necessary when gathering intel. So what information could he possibly find in your panties? 

He hurriedly made his way over to your desk and pulled a small box out of the back of the bottom drawer. Your eyes widened as you knew immediately what was in that box. He opened it and ruffled through the polaroids, until he found the one he was searching for. You could barely make out what was on it, but you knew those pictures well. It had to be the one of you sitting in front of the floor length mirror, legs spread, two of your fingers in your mouth, showcasing the lacy purple matching panties and bralette. 

“Oh my god,” you accidentally said aloud, before quickly looking around to make sure no one heard your outburst. Satisfied you were still alone, you looked back at the man on your phone, knowing what he had been looking for. He knew you were wearing that set today. Not as if you had a special occasion to be wearing something so pretty and extra, but sometimes, a girl just needed a confidence boost and this morning you decided that this purple set was that. And he fucking knew it was missing, he knew you were wearing the thing. 

You tried to comprehend why he would do something like this. It’s obvious he’s done it many times before, with the way he navigated your house with ease and had a mental note of every single undergarment you owned. Was he stalking you? Was he obsessed with you? It had to be something along those lines for him to break into your house and rummage your panty drawer. To care about the book you’re reading, especially to check where you were at in the book. He obviously felt some sort of way towards you, now you had to find out why and what the extent of this whole situation truly was.

You’d hardly talked to Leon. You’d spoken a couple of times, but it was usually in a group or very public setting. How had he formed such a fixation on you? From what you’d heard around your department, he had been through some extremely traumatizing missions and was more of the loner type. Although, everyone around here is pretty messed up considering we work in the business of protecting the population from bioweapons and such. We’d all seen many things beyond comprehension, we all had our demons, but I don’t think anyone else was inside a subordinate's apartment touching their panties. Or maybe they were, you weren’t sure what you understood anymore.

You continued to watch Leon on his little adventure in your personal space. He had laid down on your bed, over top the dirty clothes, and was stuffing his face into your pillows like a puppy or something. He unbuttoned his shirt and ripped it open to expose his chest. Your jaw nearly dropped as his hands made their way to his belt. He quickly undid his belt, following with the button on his jeans and the zipper coming down quickly afterwards. He slid his pants and boxers down just enough for his big, hard cock to spring free.

He slowly starts to pump up and down his cock with his hand as his head digs deeper into your pillows. Your mouth ran dry and heat went rushing straight to your pussy. You couldn’t stop internally asking yourself what the fuck was wrong with you. Why are you aroused by this man in your house, jerking off in your bed, without your permission. How could you allow yourself to feel this way? He was a pervert, a weirdo, a creep, a stalker, but fuck was he pretty. Especially pretty with his dick in his hand, giving himself pleasure. You could feel how soaked your panties had become, your cunt feeling claustrophobic, trapped inside the fabric.

His hand left his cock for a few moments as it dug through the clothes surrounding him until he pulled up a pair of your dirty panties. He brought them right up to his nose and you could visibly see him inhale deeply and his cock jump as he did. He wrapped the panties around his hand and brought it back to his cock to resume his movements. He was jerking himself off using your panties and you had never felt more aroused in your entire goddamn life.

His pace was quickening rapidly and his hips kept bucking up into his hand. His other hand grabbed the pillow from beside his head and he began literally smothering it over his face. You could see him losing all control, he had to be super close to cumming. Maybe he was into some sort of breath play, or maybe it was the smell of you. He was sniffing your panties, so why wouldn’t he also enjoy breathing in your scent off your pillows. Why are you rationalizing or trying to explain the train of thought inside this man’s mind? Why do you love it so much?

Your thighs were clenched together painfully tight. It was taking everything in your power not to pant and whimper at the sheer need to feel some sort of friction on your needy, begging cunt. Part of you wanted to run off to the bathroom to give yourself some relief that you desperately needed, but the other part of you wouldn’t allow you to move from where you sat. You couldn’t miss a single second of the show happening on your phone screen. 

His hips were rutting up into his quick moving hand so fast, you knew he would be cumming any second. And fuck you couldn’t wait to see him cum. Suddenly he was holding his hips up off the bed, back arched, hand movements so sloppy, as his cock twitched and shot the ropes of his release all over his chest and abdomen. Watching him cum had you rubbing your pussy down against your chair, trying to find some sort of relief of your own, but you quickly stopped yourself before anyone could come around the corner and catch you.

He laid on your bed for a minute, face to the side buried in your pillow, panties laying over his freshly spent dick, his chest rising slower and slower as his breathing returned to normal. Once he caught his breath, he used your panties to clean his cum off of him before he secured his pants and started tossing your clothes back into the hamper, hiding your panties covered in his cum in the mix of them. He made quick work of fixing up your bed and putting the box of your explicit polaroids back into your desk. 

As quickly as he had shown up on your cameras, he was gone. You felt like you could breathe again, but the ache deep in your core persisted and only worsened anytime your brain flashed back to Leon’s cock in his hand. Pumping up and down, up and down, up and down, fuck snap out of it! You were so aroused by Leon’s behavior and you felt ashamed. But as you started to process the depth of what had just happened, you realized that he was obviously as fucked up as you were, all things considered.

You couldn’t believe it, but you can’t wait to see when he’ll come again. If you’re lucky, maybe he’ll even show up again tomorrow. You want nothing more than to watch the show put on unknowingly just for you. And you’ll be damned if you don’t leave a surprise for him to find on his next visit. No one ask you what the cats were doing, you wouldn’t have any clue where they were all this time.

After the events of yesterday, you’d been too distracted to get any real work done all day. You were skittish waiting for a notification to alert you of your special visitor. You were running out of nails to chew on, the anxiousness making you feel like an absolute wreck. At least the anxiety was keeping you awake and alert, considering you could hardly sleep last night in anticipation. Not only had you put a lot of thought into your gift for Leon, but so much work as well. You just had to have him right where you wanted him.

Last night when you were leaving work, Leon was in the entryway chatting with a couple of your coworkers. Well, they were doing most of the talking as Leon politely nodded and acknowledged what they had been saying. His eyes wandered off until they fell on you walking through the lobby, heading for the main doors. Your eyes met and he held your stare. You played it off as you smiled and waved at him, continuing for the doors. His eyebrow cocked in confusion as he gave you a small wave back. You weren’t ready for him to know what you knew, but you also wanted to somehow acknowledge him. Maybe to fuel his obsession, you weren’t sure exactly why.

You hurried home embarrassingly fast, almost falling flat on your face as you excitedly unlocked and threw the front door open. You quickly dropped your stuff off on the table and shed yourself of your shoes and jacket before rushing off to your room. Everything looked just as it should, but you just had to find that little bit of physical proof that he had really been here. Maybe you were going through some sort of lack of dick psychosis and your brain was providing you with wonderful, erotic delusions.

You emptied your hamper out over the bed, throwing anything that wasn’t that small piece of fabric out of the way. And then you finally had it and held it within your two hands. Without a doubt, everything you had seen was so very real. Your cum covered panties looked so beautiful, so fucking delicious as your fingers rubbed in the dried up substance.

Nervous to execute the plan you’d been fantasizing about at work since you’d caught Leon on your cameras, your hands were shaky as you tossed the panties on the bed and made way to the bookshelf in your main room. You haven't used your Poloroid camera in such a long time that you weren’t sure where it would be exactly, but you just had to take some pictures for this man. You ransacked and shuffled things all around the shelves until you finally found the treasure you’d been searching for. After making sure it had film ready, you headed back to your bedroom.

Satisfied with the lighting in the room, you unbutton your blouse leaving it pulled open yet still tucked into your shirt, leaving your bra covered chest on display. You point the camera directly at your chest. Snap. You wait for the little print to pop out before laying it on your desk and working on your next photo. You got down on your knees, tight skirt covered ass sticking out towards your floor length mirror, soft thighs and curves perfectly posed in the reflection. You angle the camera just right and snap. You hiked your skirt up mid ass and spread your thighs wide, showing off your panties in the mirror. Snap. You hike your skirt all the way up your hips and sit on your ass, legs spread open, and remove your blouse. Snap.

After a while, you’ve snapped all sorts of pictures, experimenting with what poses and positions looked the best. You’d tossed a few fails away, but were ultimately happy with the collection showing off your undergarments. But it wasn’t enough for you. You laid back on your bed, throwing your bra off somewhere so that you were just in your underwear and snapped another picture. You snapped a picture of the wet spot on your panties, before dipping your hand beneath them and running your pointer finger over your clit, snapping another picture. You shivered when your finger made contact. You felt edged after the events of the day.

You removed your hand from under your panties and pulled them to the side, exposing your aching, wet cunt and of course, snapping another picture. You brought your finger back to your clit, flicking it, lightly running circles around it. You snapped another picture and knew that if you applied any more pressure you’d be done for, but you weren’t quite ready to be done yet. 

You gathered your wetness on two fingers before slowly pushing them inside your needy hole. Your back arched as the pleasure instantly flooded your senses. You slowly pumped them in and out, letting little whimpers slip as you were far too worked up to keep quiet. When your two fingers were buried in your cunt, you snapped another picture, before continuing fucking yourself at a steady pace. You needed to cum so badly, but the need to display yourself for Leon was far fucking stronger.

Your wetness was slipping out of you and running down your thighs, creating a wet spot on the sheets beneath you. A great photo opportunity, of course you fully utilized this. You removed your fingers from your pussy and used your thumb to swirl your arousal around your fingers. A wet string hung between your two fingers and you snapped a photo of your fingers coated in your wetness. You brought your fingers to your mouth and started sucking them clean, moaning at the taste of yourself and snapping a photo.

It had to be enough photos, you’d find some you were pleased with to leave laying around for him to just happen upon. You tossed the camera to the side of your bed and covered yourself back up with your panties. Your hand slipped under the waistband and you quickly swirled your finger around your clit, eliciting that sweet, sweet pleasure. You were determined to come in your panties so that Leon could find them.

Your mind flashed back to Leon laying in the exact same spot as you are now, jerking his cock with your panties. You wanted so badly to help him, to wrap your lips around that pretty cock until his eyes rolled back in his head and you could taste his cum as he let himself explode in your mouth. He’d grip your hair so tight, tell you how good of a girl you are, how good you feel wrapped around his cock, how good you take him. Just the thought of Leon alone had you trembling beneath your touch, back arching off the bed as his name slipped from your mouth between moans as you came inside your underwear.

You ran your fingers over your clit until the overstimulation became too much. You couldn’t remember the last time you’d come so hard and so quickly. Eventually you came back down and got up off the bed, placing everything in your hamper but laying your freshly used bra and panties on the top. You’d lay in a different spot on your bed tonight so your wet spot would be there for Leon. You laid the Polaroids haphazardly across the desk for him to find nice and easily too.

Now you’re sitting impatiently in your office chair, hoping, maybe even praying, for the man to make a visit to your house. It was getting later on in the day than it had been for his visit yesterday and you were starting to lose hope. You were finally starting to focus on work when a notification on your phone had you nearly jumping out of your seat. Motion detected. Perfect.

You quickly opened the app and the live camera feed came to life across the screen. Leon was walking through your living room, looking around for anything out of place. His brows furrowed in confusion when he opened your book and saw you hadn’t made any progress. Oh well, you have been very busy. Now it was just time for him to discover what had had you so caught up last night. He lazily walked into your bedroom and scanned around, freezing when he saw some new cluttered papers on your desk.

He walked over and upon discovering they weren’t just little slips of paper, he quickly pulled out your desk chair and fell back into it. He quickly spread the pictures all around, flipping through them, staring and admiring each and every single one. It felt like he sat there and looked at them forever before he finally stood, heading towards your bed. 

He threw the duvet cover back and stared down at the wet spot on your thin, fitted sheet. He quickly turned and looked at your hamper, immediately recognizing what was laying right on top. He reached over and picked up your panties, bringing them to his nose, and deeply inhaling them over and over again. You could see how hard he was from all the gifts you’d left for him and it had you growing increasingly hot all over your body. He walked back over to your desk and sat your panties down next to the photos. He stood there for a few minutes scanning over everything that was displayed in front of him.

Suddenly he was staring straight into the camera. Your heart stopped as you stared right back at his face. Did he really just find the fucking camera? Could he sense you watching him? Fuck, you had to be in deep shit. What would he do now knowing that you know? Would he realize you left all of that stuff there specifically for him? With the bullshit you pulled, maybe you wanted him to know. A smirk slowly grew on his face as he grabbed the panties and one of the photos before sitting himself back on the bed, immediately staring back into the camera.

He laid the panties and photo next to him as he undid his belt at an agonizingly slow rate. You were in a trance, hypnotized by the show being put on before you. He completely shed himself of his pants and boxers this time as he spit down onto his cock and brought your panties to it. He pumped himself all the while it felt like he was staring straight into your soul. The mixture of shame and arousal had your entire body on fire, feeling like you might combust at any second.

You don’t know how much time passes while you stare at Leon staring into the camera while pleasuring himself, but he doesn’t break the stare as he cums right onto the photograph he’d brought to the bed with him, some spilling on the panties as well. He got himself dressed and laid the cum covered picture of you and your panties back on the desk. He stopped and looked back into the camera one last time, shooting it a wink, and then he was out the door once again.

You were quickly jumping up from your chair and heading to the bathroom to collect yourself. That really just fucking happened. He knew you were watching, knew he had been caught, and knew he was jerking off right into the camera. What the fuck were you going to do now? You thought you’d have your fun with this while he didn’t know, considering what he’d been doing without your knowledge for god knows how long. But he caught you just as you had caught him.

The day goes by in a blur. If you thought you couldn’t focus before, you definitely couldn’t focus for shit now. When it’s time to head home, you’re practically throwing yourself into your jacket, tossing your things together, and heading for the front doors as fast as you possibly could. All you had to do was make it out of the building, then you’d be alone with your thoughts and could think of some sort of plan for what you were going to do now. But of course things never work out as you would hope.

As you’re making your way through the lobby, your gaze locks into a pair of pretty blue eyes loitering near the front doors. You shift your eyes away as you take a couple more steps, but you can’t help but to look back at Leon as you get close to the doors. This time he shoots you a big cocky smile and waves at you. You aren’t sure what to do, so you give him a small, nervous smile back as you push through the front doors and out into the fresh air. 

You feel yourself let go of a breath you were unaware you’d been holding in. You turn your head and look back through the windows on the front of the building and see Leon still staring at you. What do you do? You feel like you might throw up, so you do the one thing your legs will allow you to. You hurry the fuck out of there and rush your ass straight home. You were so fucked.

~masterlist~

[mc-lukanette]

"Luka, do you believe in soulmates?"

Luka nearly stumbled after that question left Marinette's mouth. While conversation was common between them on their walks - regardless of if it was a walk to go somewhere together, a walk to find inspiration, or a walk to simply walk - he hadn't expected a topic like that.

Just about anyone wouldn't, actually, not when a vast majority of the population had soulmate marks. Luka himself sported one, as did Marinette.

He looked to her for clarification, but her gaze was distant, drawn up towards the sky like it might give her whatever answer she was looking for. Wanting to consider her question seriously, he asked, "Are you talking about destiny?"

"No ...maybe?" Her brows furrowed and she appeared just as confused as him by her own thought process. Throwing a hand out in exasperation, she tried again, "We're chosen. That's the idea, right? Because someone, or the universe, or something did it?"

"Yeah?" He supposed that was accurate even if he didn't know himself. No one could ever agree on the true cause and evidence was nonexistent, so it was largely left up to interpretation.

More religiously-inclined individuals would call it a God giving people a sign of their all-knowing nature, or giving their approval of two people being together. Depending on one's view, that theory ranged from being about a holy entity asserting their omnipotence to being about the most powerful shipper to ever exist trying to pair up the population to their liking.

For others, it was just a force of the universe, whether a conscious one or not. The way the marks changed as cultures did could answer questions about that, or it may only add them.

Some theories left it down to the individual: that people were magical or that their souls called out and found another, which ultimately manifested in a soulmate mark.

Luka didn't know, and it wasn't something that kept him up at night. The pondering of why soulmate marks existed and what they truly meant held about as much weight to him as why some random person on the other side of the world chose to eat an apple instead of an orange that day.

Of course, it wasn't always like that. There was a time when he was younger when he looked at the mark near Marinette's elbow, listening to her ramble excitedly about who her soulmate might be and what kind of person she hoped they were, and he felt jealous. He'd loved her knowingly for years, probably loved her unknowingly even longer, but he was happy.

In a way, not being her soulmate meant that she had no incentive or suggestion to be close to him beyond enjoying his company. That alone held great value to him, and he liked the simplicity: importance to someone without need of a fancy fate tattoo slapped on at birth to show for it.

"Ugh," Marinette groaned, running both hands down her face. "I get a headache whenever I think about it. It doesn't make sense."

"Which part?"

"Mm..." She pouted. "The good part?"

He still wasn't following, though he did like hearing her talk. He was happy to be her black-and-blue rubber duck if she needed it.

"Everyone thinks that soulmate marks are soooo great," she continued with an edge to her voice, waving her arms wildly, "but they don't always think about who, or what, or whatever's behind it! What if it—"

"Look out."

Luka caught a glimpse of what was about to happen just in time, reaching out to grab her shoulder and pull her back, the honest-to-God cream pie that'd fallen from above splattering on the sidewalk below. He looked up to lock gazes with the person who'd appeared to either accidentally drop or knock it over, but they were already ducking back inside in embarrassment.

Giving a quick glance at her shoes to confirm that the pie didn't get on them, his eyes went to her face next. "Are you okay?"

She didn't answer, staring solemnly at the dessert on the ground, though that may have not been entirely accurate. It almost appeared as if she were looking at things all around it that weren't actually there.

He knew then what was happening in her mind before she spoke again.

"What if it doesn't care about you or thinks you're a joke? What if it gave you a soulmate just for a laugh?"

Marinette had never had good luck. Having known her since they were both kids, Luka knew that for a fact. He'd become so used to it that anticipating and preventing whatever insanely unlucky moments he could was like muscle memory to him. His body simply felt the signs and acted on its own.

Thus, her conclusion didn't come as anything strange to him, however depressing it sounded. The thought that there was some higher being taking delight in... whatever this was, it didn't sound impossible.

Cautious with suspicion of what her answer may be, he asked, "Did something happen with him?"

He normally wouldn't say anything about that relationship, nor do so much as to speak the boy's name. After countless times of watching Marinette lamenting some perceived failure that was, more often than not, either terrible luck or the universe personally spiting her, he stopped bringing it up. It made her miserable to talk about it and he had a dog in the proverbial race, so it was convenient for both of them if he kept quiet.

No matter how much he wanted and also didn't want to know how it was going or if any sparks were flying, that was her business and he would only pry if he felt it necessary. Most of what he knew was simply that she had seen the soulmate mark by accident and her soulmate had yet to see hers.

"Ha," she scoffed, turning her face away from him. "Nothing happened, that's the problem."

She went to keep walking, not feeling right standing in the same place on the sidewalk, and nearly stepped in the fallen pie before he caught her shoulder again. She tossed him a grateful look and they continued their walk side-by-side.

"I just wanted to get to know him better! Isn't it normal to want to know what your soulmate is like?" She huffed, face pinkening in shame. "But any time I try to talk to him, it all comes out wrong and it doesn't make any sense, and not even in a way that makes sense!"

She held her hands out, feigning holding a box.

"And the other day, I put a box of my parents' macarons on his desk with a note on it, but Chloe took it and told him they were from her! He even bought it!" She stopped talking, squinting at nothing as she turned to him and corrected, "Her story, not the macarons."

He nodded along and let her continue.

"Anyway!" She faced the sky with a glare, fists tight against her chest. "Like Chloe would ever be caught dead in my parents' bakery. She wouldn't even take the time out to buy a gift herself unless it was for herself!"

He chuckled, though there was sympathy too. He couldn't imagine what was crazier of a thought: that Marinette's parents would sell to their daughter's bully, or that someone would be unaware enough to believe such a story in the first place. The macarons couldn't have been that good.

Head tilted up towards the sky, she clasped her hands together behind her back and sighed. "Maybe my standards for guys are too high, or I'm missing something about soulmates. That's why I asked." Eyes drifting towards where her partly hidden mark was, she grumbled, "I don't think it's a coincidence anymore that it's where my funny bone is..."

Luka hummed, a question lingering in his mind but not one that was relevant to hers: in all of his knowing her, she'd never dated anyone, so he couldn't imagine where her "standards for guys" had come from, but he thought better of saying it aloud.

Turning his head to look at the rest of the world, so far removed from the little bubble they'd crafted for each other, Luka took in their surroundings: the pigeons flying overhead, the cars passing by, and a couple having snacks at a table outside a cafe. His lips twitched at the latter sight as a thought occurred to him.

"Do you remember when we were kids?" He met her confused gaze. "My favorite Jagged Stone song was Bottomless. I thought it was the deepest song I ever heard."

Marinette snorted, a delightful noise that he always loved hearing. "And when he got asked what it meant, he said..."

With a dramatic groan hearkening back to the emotions of his childhood self, he lamented, "That he was hungry when he wrote it."

Her chest heaved as she snorted again, putting a hand over her mouth as she tried to contain her laughter. It was all in good fun and he had fond memories of her comforting him at the time as if the revelation had destroyed his psyche, wanting to protect his innocence.

"I was devastated," he half-joked as he slipped his hands into his pockets, "but then I realized that it didn't matter."

Her laugh cut off with a choke, shocked by the statement. He didn't blame her, as he'd never really expressed the thought to anyone before.

And Luka Couffaine, not caring what Jagged Stone had to say about his own song? Unheard of.

"It didn't change how I felt about it, or what it meant to me," he explained. "Just because he was the one who made it didn't mean I had to see it the way he did."

Marinette was smart, and he could see the parallel clicking in her head. His thoughts on Jagged's song were much like his thoughts on his mark, or soulmate marks in general, in that he couldn't care less about anyone else's theories or ideas about them. Maybe his mark genuinely meant that the person with a matching mark was destined to be with him, or the exact opposite. Perhaps it was a warning about someone he could never get along with, or there was no person at all who matched his mark.

But he knew how he felt. He knew what he wanted, and it had nothing to do with a nonconsensual tattoo he had on his neck.

"What about you, Marinette? What do you want your mark to mean?"

They came to a crosswalk, the warning sign flashing red. Stopping along with her, Luka's hands fell back to his sides as he waited for Marinette's response. Her gaze was locked to her feet, which shifted against the sidewalk while she mulled over her answer.

"...I don't want it to mean anything. My life's already complicated enough without thinking about what I'm supposed to do about it," she decided. "I don't need a soulmate either, just something simple: someone to talk to, someone who comforts me like I comfort them..."

"I think that sounds great." He beamed, charmed by the promised simplicity.

She continued, voice quieting, "...someone to go on walks with."

...Wait.

She gripped the bottom of her shirt with the hand furthest from him, tangling her finger in the fabric. "Someone to hold hands with..."

Then he felt it. It was the lightest of touches, but he knew with certainty the feeling of her other hand's knuckles brushing his. The way her face pinked at her cheeks only supported that.

It was a question in the form of physical contact: Do you want this? Is this okay?

Without having realized, Luka had fallen into the trap of assuming everything about soulmates without meaning to, contrary to his own opinion. Marinette had put so much weight onto it when they were kids that he didn't dare to imagine anything else but that she wanted them romantically.

Had she really just wanted to get to know them? Or had she wanted him to be sure that she wasn't interested in them first? Was that why she'd asked him in the first place? To know whether it would matter to him or not?

A car driving by, causing wind to rustle their hair, brought Luka back to reality. Not wanting to be misunderstood for even an instant, he took her hand in his and brought it to his chest, holding it there so she could feel his heartbeat.

She gasped, but didn't pull away, staring at their joined hands in awe.

"What else?" he asked, sending every implication at her through his tone.

"Ah—" The pink on her cheeks spread further along her face, but she still answered, "S-someone who will touch my face, like..."

She trailed off, lost for a way to describe it, but Luka needed no further instruction. Taking a single step to be even closer to her, he raised his free hand. Fingers bent, he glided the backs along Marinette's cheek, a pleasant heat coming off of it.

"Anything else?"

She opened her mouth, paused to swallow, then gave him a hopeful smile. With only a hint of shyness this time, she requested, "Kiss me."

He did, his hand going from her cheek to the back of her head as their lips met. Cars continued to pass by, but he couldn't hear them over his heart pounding so loud he could feel it in his skull.

"Lu—" Marinette started to say, but whatever it was must not've been more important than kissing him. She tightened her grip on the hand he'd been holding, the other pulling at his jacket to keep him close.

As if he would've ever gone anywhere but right in front of her. The mere thought baffled him.

When they pulled away, hands still intertwined, it took Luka a few seconds for the world to come back into focus. The crosswalk sign signaled that they could walk now, but he couldn't say for sure whether it had done that recently or if they'd been kissing for so long that they'd missed a prior chance to cross. He couldn't bring himself to care either, not when she held his hand like it was something precious.

She smiled gorgeously at him and tugged him along. He followed after her eagerly, silently wondering if she had any further "requirements" that he could meet.

[spop-romanticizes-abuse]

connie vs catra: falling in love with a hero

so one thing in SPOP that reminded me of SU is when Catra gets upset and angry at Adora for needing to sacrifice herself in order to save the world. something very similar to this happens in SU where Connie gets upset at Steven for turning himself in to the Diamonds, so that he can prevent everyone else from getting hurt.

and i wanted to compare these two scenarios and talk about why this kind of conflict worked with connverse, but not c//a.

1. Past Relationship And Hypocrisy

Connie and Steven had a healthy relationship prior to this incident. Connie was always supportive of Steven and quite honestly, was one of the very few people who had no expectations for him based on his mother.

the Crystal Gems constantly talked about Rose and knowingly or unknowingly put pressure on Steven to live up to her image. Greg often mentioned Rose too, and while he may not have intended to make Steven feel pressured, that was the outcome.

Connie, on the other hand, saw Steven for who he was - a 14 year old kid who had way too many expectations to live up to. she served as Steven's rock and his connection to human life, letting him goof off and relax like he should. she listened to him when he was feeling troubled, and assured him that she would always be there to support him. Connie made Steven feel loved and understood.

they also made a promise to always fight together after Pearl tries to pressure Connie into sacrificing herself for Steven. Steven is clearly uncomfortable with this and doesn't want Connie to act like his bodyguard and put herself in danger.

so it makes complete sense that Connie felt hurt and betrayed when Steven decided to do exactly that and sacrifice himself to save her and the rest of beach city. it makes sense that Connie was worried sick about Steven after he surrendered himself.

Connie feeling upset about this situation makes sense because she actually cares about Steven. she always has.

meanwhile Catra constantly used Adora's fears and insecurities against her, even when they were on the same side and especially when they were enemies. Catra made Adora feel worthless for existing, she made Adora feel like a failure.

Catra actively and knowingly contributed to Adora's self-sacrificial complex and her habit of putting everyone else's safety above her own. and then she's surprised that Adora wants to sacrifice herself to save the world. wow. who would have thunk it?

Catra has absolutely no right to act like she cares about Adora after all this. and she certainly has no right to get mad at Adora for doing something Catra herself conditioned her to do.

it makes no sense especially because the show acts like the previous seasons never happened. neither Catra nor Adora nor anyone else brings up the fact that Catra was one of the main contributors to Adora's hero complex and her insecurities. the show just glosses over that and acts like Catra being upset about all this is tragic and sympathetic.

2. Expressing Anger In A Healthy Manner

Connie is upset but she communicates her feelings to Steven in a calm manner. she tells him that what he did hurt her feelings. she is obviously angry and upset, but she's also visibly trying to keep it together and not let her anger get the best of her.

i also think that Steven kinda messed up when he replies to Connie's "i'm hurt" with "no you're not". he decided that as long as no one was physically hurt, there was no problem. he didn't stop to think about how this might have affected Connie emotionally. (i'm not hating on Steven btw, he was in a pretty tough situation himself and was just happy that everyone was safe and alive. this is a situation where both of them were in the right and it was just a complicated issue to navigate.)

basically, Connie deals with this situation more maturely than some adults might have. she felt hurt and betrayed, but she didn't use that as an excuse to hurt Steven. she said what she wanted to say and then she left to give her mind some clarity.

also she does this AFTER Steven returns home safely.

Catra, on the other hand?

she screams at Adora, accuses Adora of picking favorites and pushes her to the ground. Catra is supposedly in her 20s at this point, and she still hasn't learned to express her anger in a healthy manner. she says once that she was working on her anger issues and that's it. we never see her try, we never see any improvement.

and then Catra just abandons Adora because “she couldn't bear to watch Adora sacrifice herself”. Catra didn't just leave because she needed some time to cool off, she was basically willing to abandon Adora and let her die.

3. Clear Motives

Connie's feelings and motives are clear from the get-go. she was worried about Steven putting himself in danger, and she was angry and upset that he broke their promise and her trust.

Catra though?

first she's mad that Shadow Weaver called her a distraction. then she's concerned about Adora's choice to sacrifice herself. and finally, she's upset that Adora doesn't like her in a romantic way.

two of these were very self-centered motives. it's hard to believe that Catra was just concerned about Adora's safety when she's whining about how Adora chose Shadow Weaver over her, as if this was some kind of competition. and it just comes off as the writers shoving in as many reasons as possible for the viewers to sympathize with Catra, rather than writing an organic conflict.

in conclusion, if you want to write a relationship involving a self-sacrificial hero, do it like Steven Universe did. make it make sense instead of shoving in hypocritical conflict.

[geekgirles]

Yumalia's Reunion

Back on my Yumalia brainrot, I can't get over all the layers and depths of their brief interaction in episode 11.

The moment Yugo is done defying his mother and forced to watch her leave, for she had long made her choice, Amalia doesn't hesitate to reach out to him and hold his hand, which Yugo immediately squeezes right back. Even with the threat of imminent war for her people's safety, Amalia's first instinct is to go to Yugo and offer whatever comfort she can, and he just lets her because if there's someone who can ground him, it's Amalia.

That's exactly what she did at the end of season 3. Not only did she tell Oropo he would never be Yugo because Yugo would never willingly or knowingly sacrifice anyone for his cause (even during his fight with Ad during the OVAs he always thought his brother would eventually come back), but she unknowingly dissuaded the fears and insecurities that'd been plaguing him throughout the entire season, both regarding his past actions and his own relationship with her. Because even after all they'd been through and his insecurities hurting Amalia deeply, she still chose him, and she still reaffirmed her love for him in such a way it would allow for their interactions in season 4 to be that much more openly affectionate and less restrained.

But not only that, back then she was also there to ground him when Oropo's passing and his absorbing of the Eliotropes overwhelmed him, helping him see all the good despite what they had lost.

And she is doing that yet again when they finally reunite.

But there is so much more going on here. So many emotions running deep between them.

Look at Yugo's expression, that mixture of surprise and awe etched onto his face. I feel like this is the moment where it truly clicks for him just how much he's changed and all the possibilities his new body entails, especially for their relationship. And Amalia is just happy, happy that he is alive and happy that he can finally see and feel like the great king and warrior she always knew was already there.

For the first time since he's met her, Yugo doesn't have to look up to meet his love's eyes, and you can clearly see how the mere thought takes him aback. But I believe there's so much more to it, so many things left unsaid.

He's looking at her like she's finally within reach, and not only because now they're closer in height. Yugo had to spent the last few years of his life watching how the love of his life grew into the most beautiful flower in Sadida's garden, into a queen, while he remained stuck in his child-like body, with only a title for show despite he too being royalty.

It's all in his eyes!

He isn't just looking at Amalia. He is staring at her like a dying man stares at his salvation, like someone who's been wandering in the dessert for ages looks at an oasis. And it's not just because they might finally have a shot, but because she is there and she is real.

Despite Yugo's unrelenting optimism and will, upon being captured by the Nécromes, a part of him had probably been forced to accept he would never see Amalia again, either because he would remain the last of his days as their prisoner, or because she would too fall soon.

Given his predicament, thanks to Oropo and Qilby's intervention, Yugo was most likely running on adrenaline when he noticed the portal in the Sadida forest and what it would mean for Amalia. His mind was set on protecting her, not on the fact that they would be reunited after such a horrible ordeal. And I don't think it really sunk in that he would see her again until she touched him, until she literally became tangible and attainable.

But she is real, and she is with him, they are together again. Only this time, they might actually get to be together.

Look at such level of intimacy! Such tenderness mixed with the underlying unbriddled passion they feel for one another! Yugo might have been shown being okay with revealing his wings to his friends, but he always took the hood off himself; but not with Amalia. With her he trusts her enough to let her do the honours and all he can do is melt under her touch.

Seeing Amalia again after being held prisoner in the Nécroworld and forcibly aged has allowed Yugo to fall in love with her all over again and, more importantly, to finally allow himself to love her with his whole being in return. No more holding back, no more second thoughts, no more take-backs. No more denying themselves what they have been desperately yearning for.

He loves Amalia and she loves him. And he's going to hold onto her for as long as they both live.

And I am so not normal about them.

[theoddest1]

Leave Joel Perez alone. All of you online warriors think you’re doing something but you’re not. Focus on the REAL life victims and not some cartoon. Put your energy into something MEANINGFUL and stop sending death threats to some voice actor DOING HIS JOB.

Damn, anyway, you are aware that we can do both things, right? Why are you acting as if doing one task absolves the other? I am not on his case for playing a fictional character or sharing art of said fictional character, I'm on his case for knowingly or unknowingly promoting a tag that has many rape fetishers/SA romanticizers using it. He did NOT need to use a ship name in the post since any fan of the show ALREADY KNOWS Angel's situation. So why tf does he need the ship name there? Most people do not use a fucking ship name for anything other than romance or cause they like the ship.

Then Joel proceeds to double down and act like an idiot online and be fucking petty towards someone who made good points to him, who also was APPARENTLY an SA survivor, telling them that they're putting words in his mouth and to "go watch bluey" which was not necessary of a comment to make.

And AFTER THAT he proceeds to mock those who find his behavior unprofessional and tone deaf all cause he thinks he is completely right in his assessments yet doesn't have the fucking balls to leave his Insta comments open.

He, Viv, and any other person who doesn't take this topic seriously is not immune to proper feedback and conversations made about them and especially not clapback if they proceed to act like brainless drones. 🙂‍↕️

[pinktie]

Can I trouble you with an ask about the Kurobas' parenting style? Pretty please elaborate on how they are both bad parents.

Alright, buckle up cause this is kinda angsty.

So, there’s something disturbingly manipulative about the Kurobas' parenting style.

Imagine being Kuroba Kaito, a 16-year-old boy who idolizes your deceased father, cherishing every lesson he taught you. One day, you stumble upon a secret room hidden beneath your own bedroom, and what you discover shatters your world: your beloved father, your role model, was Kaito KID—the world's most wanted criminal. You’re left feeling shocked and confused. You desperately want answers, but there’s no one around to provide them. In your desperation, the only logical thing you can think of is to step into your father’s shoes. So, you put on the Phantom Thief’s mantle, becoming the new Kaito KID.

Not long after, you uncover another devastating truth: your father's death wasn’t an accident—it was murder. Fueled by rage, you vow to find those responsible pay.

Except, your father isn’t really dead.

The most terrifying revelation is the implication that Toichi's fake death and Chikage’s absence are part of a long-term plan they’ve been orchestrating for over eight years.

Toichi and Chikage have conditioned Kaito to believe that he's good enough to become Kaito KID.

His father drilled the importance of maintaining a poker face into him, a skill that’s invaluable for a magician to remain composed and unshaken under pressure. For a performer, that advice is crucial to keep a show continued. But in this case, there’s no "show"—only real peril. It’s as if his father’s teaching to " Don't forget your Poker Face" was his way of saying, "Tell no one"

Not only that, his mother's lack of presence at the most convenient moment has left Kaito no other choice but to rely on the assistance of Jii, a 60-year-old man.

They are aware of what was coming for Kaito when he became KID—the enemies he’d face, the dangers he'd be thrown into. And yet, they still let him take on the mantle, knowingly exposing him to danger.

Not to mention, his room is dominated by a large photo of his "dead" father, serving as a constant reminder of the man he idolized. It reinforced his father’s presence in his life, deepening the sense of indoctrination with every glance.

If this was a deliberate act of parental manipulation, where they conditioned their only child to continue their criminal legacy as Kaito KID, it would be one of the darkest plot twists of all time—a reflection of twisted parental indoctrination, where Kaito was raised to unknowingly carry out their dangerous plans.

I'm aware that this isn't the author's intentions, but it's fascinating how, when viewed through a darker lens, the Kuroba family dynamic could be interpreted as psychological horror.