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deconstructthesoup · 4 months ago

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One thing I absolutely adore about Dead Boy Detectives is the immaculate costume design. Specifically, how it perfectly encapsulates who the characters are, both as a whole and who they are in the moment.

From the very first scene of the show, we know immediately that Edwin is a bookish, somewhat stuffy guy from the Edwardian era who attended a boarding school, and Charles is a punk from the 1980's who's most likely the wildcard between the two of them, just going off of the way that they're dressed. Both of them have distinct color schemes and different styles, but the general shape of their outfits is actually relatively similar---both of them have collared shirts (Edwin's dress shirt, Charles's polo), something over those shirts (Edwin's vest, Charles's suspenders), a jacket of some kind (Edwin's suit jacket, Charles's flannel thing), a longer overcoat (Edwin's traveling coat, Charles's peacoat), something around the neck (Edwin's bowtie, Charles's necklace), slacks, and nice shoes. They're distinct, yet matching, two clearly defined separate characters yet part of a set.

Edwin's prim, proper, buttoned-up personality lends itself to the way he dresses throughout the season---in the first episode, he only dresses down when he's in the office with Charles, aka his safe place and his safe person, and he doesn't really dress down like that again for a good long while after getting stuck in Port Townsend (though, if my memory serves me correctly, he does take off the suit jacket while watching TV with Niko). But in episode six, he's changed up his usual look for a cozier, casual-looking sweater and a little bit of collarbone, and in episode seven... well, he's in his nightclothes, and he's about as open, raw, and vulnerable as you can get. Edwin's color scheme is also predominately blue, which lines up nicely with his logical and practical, yet deeply sad and closed off personality, and the only time he really wears anything other than his normal blue-and-brown outfit (willingly, that is) is when he's in that green sweater in episode six. And, uh... all I can say is that it's quite telling how blue and green---or, well, teal---are the main colors of the gay/mlm flag.

Charles, by contrast, dresses down a lot, and that makes a lot of sense when you consider the fact that unlike Edwin, he feels comfortable pretty much anywhere. On any given episode, he goes from wearing his peacoat to just wearing his flannel to ditching the flannel to not even wearing the freaking polo---though, again, the latter is something that only happens when he's in the office with Edwin. Safe space, safe person. And, well, plenty of people have analyzed Charles's polo shirt going from red to burgundy to black over the course of the series, and there being a little bit of red under the collar of his coat that's only visible when Edwin fixes it, and then it goes back to burgundy, and then it's red again when Edwin's out of Hell... for good reason! It's color symbolism at its finest! Not to mention, the red and black not only perfectly contrasts Edwin's color scheme, but it also lines up with Charles's personality---he's a rebel, he's hotheaded, he's bold and brash and loud... and yes, he's angry, but he's also so, so loving.

When we first meet Crystal after she loses her memories, her outfit choices feel very deliberate. They're stylish and vaguely trendy, they're arty and a little bit witchy---pretty fitting for a psychic who's also a showbiz kid, even if she doesn't know that last part. But all of her clothes appear thrifted, or at the very least vintage, and the patterns and the general vibe all feel natural and comforting. Her makeup's always fairly simple, her hair's either down or up in a couple of cute space buns... overall, this Crystal looks like the kind of person who'd make you tea when you're in a bad mood, who'll listen when you just need to vent, and who may not always know the right thing to say but will understand what you're going through. But when we see her in the flashbacks, her clothing's flashy and prioritizes high-end trends over comfort, she's either got her hair up or has it straightened, and she not only has dramatic makeup, but acrylics. This is a girl who talks shit about you behind your back, who's bitter and cynical and wants everyone to feel the same way, who makes up for the lack of love and stability in her life via material things. It's also worth noting that Crystal's color scheme has a lot of purple, which is a color that connects to wealth and luxury, but also creativity and magic---which, yeah, fits her two conflicting sides pretty damn well.

You cannot talk about Niko Sasaki without talking about her outfits, and the meaning behind each of them has already been talked about at length. However, one thing that really stands out to me is that the reason they're so iconic isn't just because of the monochrome color schemes, but because they're out there. They're weird, they're eclectic, they're a little mismatched in style sometimes, and they're so unapologetically her. Niko wears heart-shaped sunglasses, unironically. Everything about the way she dresses speaks to how, even though she's a recovering shut-in who initially doesn't want to be perceived, she's still very sure of who she is.

Jenny's design, like Charles and Edwin's, is a design that gives you the key information you need the minute she first appears onscreen. The dark makeup, the silver jewelry, the leather apron, and the hairstyle all point to a person who's tough, doesn't take anyone's shit, and has long since given up on caring what other people think---in other words, she's a badass. But the butterfly tattoo hints at a softer side, a side that we see time and time again throughout the series as she shows that she cares about Crystal and Niko, and even the boys... eventually. Also, Jenny's design is perhaps one of the most clearly queer-coded in the series, to the point where her being a confirmed lesbian is pretty much a no-brainer.

Esther's design oozes camp, from top to bottom. The fluffy coat, the bustier, the boots and the cane and the everything, speak to a woman who's kept with the times and yet has seen it all. There's really not a lot I can fully say about her design, other than what Charles has already said: "She looks like a witch... like, kind of a sexy witch, who smokes a lot." (Or maybe I'm just tired and running out of steam at this point, idk, I love Esther's design and I can't really put it into words.) It's also pretty fitting that her color scheme has a lot of yellow in it---after all, she's always striving for more, so what better color for her than the color of gold?

Everything about the Night Nurse's design speaks to a woman who follows rules and discipline above all else, from the pantsuit to the pinned-up hairstyles to the tie to the heels. She's also the most muted out of the main cast in terms of color, dressing mostly in browns, dull greens, and duller browns---and while I don't have a lot to go into detail about there, I feel like that's kind of a symbol of her narrow-minded and bureaucratic worldview.

And the animal characters... Jesus Christ, I fully forget that they're all being played by human actors. Tragic Mick dresses like a man who's always spent his life by the sea, layered denim and all, and it's never a stretch to see this sad, bushy-bearded, baggy-clothed fisherman and imagine him as a walrus lounging on a beach. Monty, at first glance, seems to only wear black, which would be perfectly fitting for a crow, but when he's in better lighting, you see that he dresses in layers of red and blue, calling to how he envies Charles and Edwin and clearly longs for something more---and this might just be me, but I think that even though his outfits seem fairly normal at first glance, they feel kind of like a costume for Monty more than anything else, like he's trying to emulate a teenager that he's seen on TV more than someone in real life.

The Cat King fits this just as well, with all of his outfits aligning perfectly with whatever his cat form is at the time---when he's a fluffy ginger, it's always sequins and fur coats and clothing pieces that are specifically designed to take up space and call attention, and when he's a black shorthair, it's sleek styles and shiny leather and pieces that are designed to cut an intimidating yet more subtle figure. And while I could go into detail about all of those, what really stands out to me is how clearly queer everything is---more than Jenny's alt lesbian attire, more than Esther's campy coat and corset. From the very first scene he's in, he's wearing a skirt, and it looks natural. Nothing about the way the Cat King presents himself is exaggerated, nothing about the way he dresses is played for laughs---he's flamboyant and feminine and flirty, and he looks so fucking hot while he does it. It's gorgeous.

So... yeah, uh, all the awards for the Dead Boy Detectives costume designers!

#dead boy detectives #dead boy detectives analysis #costume design #edwin payne #charles rowland #crystal palace #niko sasaki #jenny green #esther finch #the night nurse #tragic mick #monty finch #the cat king

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beloveds-embrace · 1 month ago

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tf 141 with a reader who loves jewelry >>

It’s not a particularly visible obsession; all your boys know is that they’ve never seen you without jewelry. Be it pretty, delicate earrings, a lovely necklace that rests in between your cleavage, or a gleaming set of rings and bracelets. They are eye-catching, on occasions, and other times they blend so nicely into whatever outfit you have adorned yourself with.

They don’t realize it, they don’t make the connection until you’ve invited them into your house, and then you are leading them deep, deep into the basement until they are in front of a closed room. The entire thing is suspicious, honestly alarming because Ghost did so much research into you but never knew anything about this- but you look so nervous and hopeful, emotions bared.

They aren’t prepared to enter a room stuffed full of jewelry. A room practically glittering, gleaming like you’ve brought yourself a corner of the starry universe. Rows upon rows, cabinets and closed glass cases. And then you are smiling, stepping into the room and urging them in.

“I… I’ve always loved jewelry,” you clear your throat, voice soft and hushed. You look around, an unmistakable look of fondness and happiness in your eyes. “Necklaces, earrings.. anything that can be put on the body to adorn it more than clothes could. Ever since I was a child, I was, well, obsessed with collecting them. I love collecting them, and every piece here is precious to me.”

Your cheeks turn pink, and you look away from their gazes. “…but you are more precious to me, and I trust all of you. Which is why I feel happy, showing this part of me to you. And…”

You grin now, opening a cabinet with a simple key you put away to pull out four jewelry boxes. “-And that is why I got these!”

You open the first box, showing John a beautiful necklace that holds a single garnet shaped into a delicate teardrop. Garnet, for his birthstone. John, John, John- a man who will always have your heart. John, who treats you like a jewel even more delicate than the one in your hands. You’ve never had anyone hold you quite as he does, so full of love.

The second box is for Soap, for your Johnny. A dangling pair of earrings that would brush across your skin should you wear them, almost as sweetly as his kisses across your body. A stormy blue, much like his eyes.

Third box is bigger- the biggest. This one, you had custom-made. Not cheap at all, but worth every single dollar. Made entirely out of diamonds, the shoulder pieces would drape so elegantly across your shoulders and dangle off your back, like a never-ending embrace. Your most expensive piece to this day, and yet you would so easily swear that it did not compare to Gaz’s beauty anyways. It was based on him, on how you looked at him, on the sheer love you felt for and from him.

The last piece is a necklace. It curls around your neck not like a collar, but like a hissy cat seeking warmth. Three rows of pearls, shiny and pretty, and in the middle sits a round red jasper. You don’t remember when it had been, but you’d read that red jasper meant courage, preseverance, and healing. Perfect for your brave, incredible Si, whom you’ll always admire and adore.

But in your enthusiasm of describing how and why you chose each piece, you are blind to the way they look at you:

In a room full of gems, jewels and stars, you shine the brightest to them.

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somany-fandoms-solittle-time · 1 year ago

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I've been a little busy today CUZ I HAD ORIENTATION AT MY NEW JOB AND IVE V EXCITED TO START WORKING AGAIN!!!! 🥰😋🥴☺️😛😍🥺😇🥹😊💅💫💞✨💘💖💝🩷💕❤️‼️💜🌟✨🎉🫶🤞🫰💅🧚🫅💃🌷🌸💮🌈⚡☀️☀️🌟✨💫🌙🌛 (anyway lol, here's the screenshot)

Day 9:

We're back on my TWST bullshit with my beloved Vice wardens lol!! Sorry that the detail is a lil fuzzy, but this is technically a screenshot of a screenshot lol! Lemme know if you prefer 💃Jamil🫅 or 🌈Trey🌷

Random Screenshots From My Phone (that I love but a need to free up space):

Most of these will be fandom related or just artsy shit that I like for some reason...... And others will be the type of wild that I cannot explain lol. Anywayyyyysssss

Day 1:

😍😍😍😍 Spoken like a true Fae Lils 💖💘😋🥴😘🥰 feel free to steal me away whenever you wish bbg~

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enha-stars · 6 months ago

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✧ eyes on me ; s.j

pairing: bf!jake x f!reader (mdni)

synopsis: jake was greedy; he was soft and loving and a bit silly, but he was greedy for you, for your attention, for anything you’d give him

warnings: lots of fluff, down bad jake, mentions of religion, death, hell [romantic], shy/sub jake (sorta), sort of dom reader (if you squint), attention whore jake (affectionate), boob play, jake loves titties, suggestive, no smut, kissing, hair pulling

a/n: idk what this is but i'm having so many jake thoughts it's insane. what i would give to pull his hair once.

the smell of butter wafted through the air as you fluffed the pillows on your sofa, humming a soft melody that jake had strummed into your subconscious.

jake watched you from the kitchen as he poured the popcorn into a large bowl and grabbed two cans of pop before he walked towards you, a soft smile on his lips.

he loved friday evenings because he got to spend them with you; your arms wrapped tightly around him as you mumbled about your day, he spent better half of the night finding a way to crawl into your skin and build a home.

he wanted to be as close to you as humanly possible, and then some. sometimes —and he always thought he was being slick but you knew— he would listen to your heartbeat and will his own heart to beat in synch with yours.

it always did.

jake watched as you fell onto the sofa, a soft groan escaping your lips when your back dug into the armrest. his eyes twinkled and he set down the popcorn on the little table you had pulled.

“don’t wanna lay on me, baby?”

you shuffled a bit downwards before you smiled up at him, eyes a bit droopier than you would have liked. he looked so pretty, standing above you with his hair brushed back and his skin glowy.

“mm, i wanna hold you.” jake naturally bit his bottom lip as his eyes crinkled in adoration. it didn’t matter how many years you two had been together; jake sim would always have that shy lover boy inside him.

jake waited patiently as you got comfortable and moved to lay on you once you nodded at him, giving him the go ahead. you prepared for jake's full weight on you and tensed up your body but he gently laid himself in between your legs.

he slotted himself between your legs and smiled against your chest when your legs wrapped around his lower half, your arms following in suit and wrapping around his shoulders.

his arms wrapped around your waist and he breathed you in; tucking his face in your neck. it had been a long week for the both of you and he had been looking forward to this every second of the week.

you shivered when his warm hands slid under your shirt and rested on your back, his nails lightly awakening all the cells in your body. you dug your heel in his shin and he nipped the skin of your neck.

"you smell good," he whispered. his eyes were squeezed shut and when you pulled back to see his face, he looked immensely content; like this is exactly where he belonged, exactly where he would stay.

"i smell like you," you smiled down at him, a twinkle in your eyes. he wanted to kiss it, to brush it and feed it; keep it ignited forever like his own personal lighthouse.

"exactly," he replied. "and i smell like you. just how God intended."

instead of answering, you crinkled your nose at him and he felt his heart rate pick up at the sight.

you slid one hand down his shirt through the collar and your other hand pressed 'play' on the tv before it slid into his hair. you felt him shiver under your touch and you pressed a kiss to his forehead.

right then and there, if jake had died, he would have been okay with it. he would have hated leaving you all alone, but if he had to go, he wanted it to be in your arms.

he was sure that even if dante himself had pulled him through hell, a second in your arms was enough to make it all worth it.

the familiar blues and fishes graced your tv and jake hummed in content as he pressed his ear against your heart, listening to the melody of the mermaids and your heart synch into the most beautiful song jake had ever heard.

your eyes never strayed from the tv as you watched the film you had been thinking about for a few days. you couldn't pinpoint why the little mermaid had been swimming through your thoughts until you began running your fingers through jake's locks.

jake focused on the tv for a bit but the feeling of your hand pressing down on his back, the coldness of your palm against his burning skill had him dizzy. his eyes fluttered shut when your fingers scraped his skull.

"you remind me of prince eric," you whispered, tugging on jake's hair. you tilted his head upwards to catch his eye and your throat bobbed at his expression; the way his eyes burned with a simmering heat and the small hitch in his breath didn't escape you.

"yeah?" his throat was dry as he looked up at you, a familiar heat bubbling in his stomach. "what about him?" jake didn't care about the movie. he didn't care about ariel's dilemma or sebastian's lectures. he cared about you; he wanted you, he wanted your attention.

all of it.

you shuffled under him, lips getting closer as your fingers ran through the ends of his hair. you slid your hand from the nape of his neck to the front and grazed his skin until you could brush the hair out of his eyes.

jake stared up at you with shiny eyes and pink lips. he had been biting on his bottom lip for a bit and you brushed your thumb against the pulled lip, enticing him to release it.

his body was yours, after all.

"you kind of look like him," you responded. your fingers traced the lines of his face, the dips and plush of his flesh until he was sure that you could mold him from any clay. he rested his chin in between your breasts, putty in your arms.

"your hair," you mumbled. jake watched carefully as you ran both your hands through his hair, tugging at the ends. his eyes shut and he barely held on to the whimper that almost escaped him. "it looks like his. especially since you've grown it out."

"what else?" jake wanted your eyes on him. he couldn't really handle them, but he loved the way his body felt alive under your gaze.

"your personalities are similar," you mused. your eyes glanced at the tv and jake slid his hand from your back to your stomach. the rough calluses on his hand tickled your skin and you glanced down at him, a smile tugging on your lips at the desperation in his eyes.

"he's charming, optimistic, adventurous," you listed. jake listened carefully, letting your voice settle deep within his bones until he was sure he'd hear you even after death. you smiled brightly at him and jake felt the air in his lungs leave him. "he's sensitive and a bit shy."

"sounds like me," jake grinned.

"it does," you laughed. "i fell in love with you long before i even met you."

you turned back to the tv so you didn't see the look of pure astonishment on jake's face. he felt his cheeks warm and he pressed his face against your chest, grinning to himself when you laughed at his shyness. you wrapped your arms around his shoulders and his hand slid up your stomach.

he wasn't full yet; he was still starving for your attention. he wanted to bask under your stare until it overwhelmed him. he let his hand travel further upwards until his fingers brushed the skin right under your breasts.

he was so glad you weren't wearing a bra.

you tried really hard to keep you attention on the tv. you knew jake was up to something, but you weren't ready for his wet tongue to press against your nipple through your thin shirt.

you naturally arched your back in response and jake took that as a sign to continue. your nails dug into his scalp as his tongue continued to poke and lick at one of your nipples while he pulled and pinched the other with his hand.

he loved your boobs. he could have spent the rest of his life like this, simply laying in between your legs with his tongue on your skin and he would have happily thanked whoever was responsible.

your head fell back and your eyes shut on their own accord at the pleasure. noticing the lack of attention, jake bit down on your skin and smiled against your wet shirt when your eyes fell on his.

"eyes on me, baby."

jake stared into your eyes as he sucked on your other nipple, his hand squeezed and kneading the other breast. your breathing had deepened and jake buzzed under your stare, sucking and nibbling like he had a point to prove it.

you swallowed a moan but jake felt it in the way your body squirmed underneath his. he released your hardened, perked nipple and raised his head, eyes shiny with lust and love.

"please," he begged against your skin. his breath brushed your face and you had never seen anything prettier. his hair fell across his forehead so prettily, and his eyes shone with so much love it almost choked you.

you smiled softly at him before your hands travelled from his hair to his cheeks. you cupped his chiseled jaw and pulled him towards you, lips crashing against his. you swallowed his little gasp and tipped your head further down, lips moving his passionately.

jake felt his entire core shake as his lips moved against yours, teeth and tongue all clashing as every unsaid whisper speaks itself into existence.

you pulled jake's hair, breaking the kiss to catch your breath. a string of saliva connects your bruised, plump lips and jake breaks it wirh his tongue. your eyes hungrily follow his movements and he knows he has all your attention now.

he knows he's always had it, but now you can't think about anything except him. exactly how he can't think about anything other than you.

"what do you want, baby?"

you pressed a chaste kiss to his lips and smiled against his lips when his eyelashes brushed your skin. you pulled away and tucked a piece of hair behind his ear.

"you, jake. i always only ever want you."

he grinned at the look in your eyes and the breathiness of your voice and pressed his pelvis against yours, swallowing your moan.

"i always only ever want you too."

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dateko · 1 year ago

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a/n: another rando drabble... twas hiding amidst the dust in my drafts... i will never get to see the four of these silly geese happy ever again and they only exist in my google docs where nothing bad ever happens to them...

“Sensei, what is Sensei to you?” Yuuji asks suddenly, causing Gojo to stop in his tracks.

“Huh? Me?”

This time, Nobara groans. “No, you blindfolded idiot! That Sensei!”

Gojo follows his young student’s gaze as she tilts her chin towards the field where the second-years are training.

There, standing beside the ever-adorable Panda, is you. You watch with a proud smile on your face as the second years spar with one another, calling out praises along with death threats coming from Maki. It doesn’t take long for you to notice the first years and their slender mentor watching you from the steps. Your lips fight to bite down a smile as you throw out a wave, watching Satoru lift his mask to wink at you.

“See! See! Like that!” Nobara starts again excitedly, pointing at her teacher. “What is that woman to you?”

“Eh?” Gojo raises an eyebrow before lowering his mask. “She’s… A close friend of mine.”

“Sensei, you’re being secretive.” Yuuji offers him a skeptical look, to which Nobara nods along with adamantly. “Fushiguro, what do you think?”

Megumi glances at your figure with a dragging sigh before walking in front of his classmates. “If you ask me, she’s the one.”

Thing 1 and Thing 2 erupt with rowdy exclamations, practically bouncing off their teacher. Megumi continues to walk with a somewhat satisfied expression. The boy’s known you his entire life. Especially how much you mean to his blue-eyed benefactor.

“B-but how do you know she’s really the one?” Yuuji asks this time, fully invested in his teacher’s love life.

Gojo shrugs nonchalantly. “I have good eyes, you know.”

“Well, now I just feel sorry for her. She has to deal with you every day!” Nobara deflates immediately, unsure of how to feel knowing someone she respects is romantically affiliated with her headache-inducing instructor.

“Hey! It’s a blessing to deal with me!”

A pair of footsteps sneak up behind the group. “Deal with who?”

With a hand on your hip, you stop to tilt your head at the pairs of wide eyes looking at you. Even beneath his mask, you can tell Satoru looks more than guilty.

“Something on my face?” You pat a hand on your cheek, wondering why no one’s said anything to you.

Nobara breaks the silence by walking up to you with her head down, a downcast expression on her face. “Sensei… I’m so sorry for you…”

Confused and admittedly very concerned, you shoot Gojo a look before patting Nobara’s head reassuringly. And your lover holds a sheepish expression as he holds his hands clasped behind his back, an old habit he used to do when he knew he was in the wrong.

“Alright, I might as well just say it,” Gojo starts, fixing the collar of his jacket. “I told them about us.”

Your eye widen at his words, lips sputtering for a normal response. “You told them we’re married?”

“Wait, married?! Meeting each other with good feelings is one thing, but married… Sensei, I thought you were better than this…" Nobara shakes her head dramatically before walking off, flashing you a disapproving look before dragging Yuuji along with her.

You watch the younger student walk off with a confused brow before returning to face your lover, who is grinning wildly at you. He's clearly over feeling guilty about exposing your little secret. Your questionable silence comes to Gojo as a queue to pull you into a loving embrace, a quiet apology for blowing your cover.

Without skipping a beat, you return the hug, giving up on trying to scold him. You squeak when Gojo rocks the two of you back and forth, pressing never-ending kisses on your jaw. “Just an FYI, Megumi was the one who told them.” He mutters, nose pressing itself into the crook of your neck.

You gasp, holding his face while you step back to look at him. “He wouldn’t do such a thing!”

“He said that you were the one.”

“Isn’t that what you said?”

“Shut up.”

You let out a giggle, a sound Gojo could listen to for hours on repeat. “You used to be so corny when we dated. Still now.”

“I don't think I could ever stop being corny. Only when it comes to you.”

#ignore this actually i just wanted to get rid of all the shet accumulating in my drafts #gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader #gojo fluff #gojo x you

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snowballseal · 2 months ago

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How they react to you having a lot of tattoos

LaDS X Reader

Anon Request: I was curious if you would be willing to write the boys reacting to a partner with a lot of tattoos? I feel like MC is pretty covered up and as someone with full sleeves and a large back piece, it’s always interesting to see how people react to seeing them.

Note: Y’all killing me with these fun requests 🥺 I love this. I only have a few minimalist tattoos, but I want MORE. Thank you for the lovely request, anon. The scenarios were fun to think of.

Word Count: who’s to say 🤷about 1000 each

---

Rafayel

The first time Rafayel sees your tattoos is when you go on a date to the beach. You’re not even thinking about it as you change in the bathroom. When you decided to become a hunter, you knew you would have to cover up your tattoos. The policy, while being outdated in your mind, isn’t all that bothersome since you prefer to wear long sleeves anyways.

So it never occurred to you that Rafayel had never seen the full expanse of the ink on your body.

Which is why, when you step out and his eyes go impossibly wide as he looks at you, mouth dropping open, you’re first and foremost confused.

“What?”

Wrapping your arms around yourself, you feel an inkling of insecurity curl in your chest as you look down at your two-piece. It’s nothing immodest, just a blue bikini that you thought was cute and also met your standards for support. It’s a little frilly, but a part of you thought he’d love that.

“Do you not like it? I don’t uh, I don’t have anything else to wear…” Your voice comes out uncharacteristically meek.

That seems to snap Rafayel out of his daze. The artist shakes his head, the tips of his ears going positively red, as he still can’t rip his eyes from the lines decorating your skin. He reaches out, tracing the gentle petals of a flower on your waist.

“How come you’ve never shown me these, cutie?” He asks, voice touched with awe.

Oh. Heat creeps up your neck. So that’s what he was on about. You glance down at your body. You suppose it is a little jarring. It’s not like you’re covered head to toe, but you’re definitely a well covered canvas. Both of your arms have partial sleeves that curl up around your shoulders and continue along your collarbone. A large collection of flowers adorns the right side of your waist, traveling down your hip and turning into a pattern of vines down your leg. You have a few other ones, some silly, some heavy with meaning.

“Sometimes I forget I have them,” you admit a bit bashfully. Rafayel gives a low hum and your breath catches as his fingers continue to trace the lines on your waist, his touch warm and ticklish. “I’ve had some of them since before I started training.”

“I have to say, I’m a bit jealous that another artist has touched your body,” he murmurs, voice dropping to something low. His hand slips around your waist, drawing you closer so he can trace his lips over the intricate ink on your collar bone, ocean eyes glinting up at you with something possessive yet overflowing with adoration. “But even I have to admit this is beautiful work. Befitting my queen.”

Your cheeks go warm. As red at the tips of his ears. There’s something so reverent about his touch and it makes your heart flutter wildly, but you’re all too keenly aware that you’re still in public.

Not that it stops you from poking the fish.

“Would it make you feel better to know my newest one is for you?” You ask, reaching to touch his cheek with a teasing smile.

Rafayel’s face lights up. He draws back immediately, looking over your tattoos like an eager child until he spots the fresher ink on your left leg. You stifle a giggle as he drops to his knees, fingers curling around your ankle to pull your leg off the ground so he can get a better look.

“Rafayel!” You bark out a laugh, balance stolen away. It forces you to lean on him just so you don’t fall over. “Geez, I could have just sat down, you know!”

“This is for me?” Rafayel, oblivious to your complaints, grazes his fingertips tenderly along your skin.

Shaking your head, you give his hair a playful fuss, “Yes, you impatient fish. It’s not done yet, but it’s about us.”

It’s the beginnings of an ocean scene. A beach circles right above your ankle, depicting the silhouettes of two younger kids, their hands clasped in a promise. As the ink continues up your leg, it transforms into what looks like a night sky, but instead it’s water, swirling lines of blue and purple, full of schooling fish, one in particular standing out, bright red among the cool tones. A familiar symbol. And on the back of your calf swims a graceful looking figure, reaching for the light, edges blurred between fish and man and water.

A lump forms in Rafayel’s throat as he touches the red fish, a familiar warmths spreading across his chest as the same symbol glows faintly. Seeing it on you fills him with an emotion he can’t quite explain.

“You do realize what this means, right?” Those ocean eyes flicker up to you. They glint like dark pearls, iridescent and beautiful, yet carry a depth of emotion that makes your breath catch.

“I do,” you answer unwaveringly.

Rafayel’s lips pull into a small smile. He never expected someone to do something like this for him. Though, of course you would. And it’s beautiful.

“It’s a stunning piece,” he murmurs eventually, leaning forward to press a kiss to your knee, right above the ink, his hair tickling your thigh, “Though I still think the canvas is the most beautiful thing of all.”

A snort escapes you and you bite your lip, heat rushing back to your cheeks, “You’re ridiculously corny, Rafayel.”

“I know.” His smile shifts into a wolfish grin as he stands up, scooping you into a hug. You squeal as he spins you around, holding on tightly despite knowing he’d never drop you. It’s only when you’re positively red that he stops, his mirthful eyes watching your face. “It’s worth it if I get to see this face. I swear, cutie, if you do more things like this, I might become unbearable.”

“You never could,” you giggle and loop your arms around his neck, “Though, I was thinking maybe next time, you could come with me?”

Rafayel raises an eyebrow, “Oh? You want to get matching tattoos? I’ll admit, I’ve never considered it…but if it’s with you, I can’t think of anything more fitting.”

“You’ll have to design it, of course,” you hum, tone turning a little more excited, “Oh, I can’t wait! It’ll be so fun! We can do it the next time I take a break, and after swimming season, obviously.”

Leaning in, Rafayel gives you a short kiss, laughing against your lips, “Anything you want, my lady. As long as it’s with you, I’ll enjoy every minute of it.”

---

Zayne

The first time Zayne sees your tattoos is when you reunite at Akso. You’re not sure how long it’s been, having only seen him every so often at Grandma Josephine’s for dinner. All you know is that he’s been busy, and is now one of the most remarkable young doctors in Linkon.

And also your new primary care physician.

“Knock knock.”

You rasp your knuckles lightly against the door to his office, eyes lingering on the nameplate displayed prominently beside it. A strange sense of pride swells in your chest. To think, your childhood best friend would reach such heights.

“Come in,” Zayne calls, voice as aloof as ever.

You slip into his office and let the door shut behind you. The doctor sits at his desk, flicking through a file on his tablet. You hesitate on the edge of his peripherals, not sure exactly what to do or how to act. It’s been a long time since you two have been truly close, not since- But you’ve missed him.

A lot.

“My apologies, my previous surgery ran longer than expected so I am still collecting your records.” You blink, his voice drawing you back out of your thoughts. “You may take a seat if you’d like.”

“Okay.”

Maybe you’re the only one who feels weird about it. He seems completely unaffected, like you’re a normal patient, ever the professional. You awkwardly drag a stool a little closer to his desk, just far enough to not seem weird and so it doesn’t feel like you’re looking over his shoulder.

After the silence goes a tick too long, you can’t help but break it, fingers fiddling nervously with your sweater, “How have you been, Doctor Zayne?”

A faint smile ghosts across his lips. You haven’t changed one bit.

“I’ve been well, thank you for asking. Work has become quite constant, so I’m afraid I haven’t been able to accept many of Josephine’s dinner invitations.” His eyes dart over to you briefly before focusing back on his screen. “You look like you’ve been doing well since we last saw each other.”

“I have,” you chirp, anxiety easing up a bit, “I’m really close to being finished with training and finally joining the Hunters Association. You should try to make it to dinner this week though! Grandma really misses you. She talks about you all the time.” You falter, cheeks warming a little. “...We’re all really proud of you, Zayne.”

Zayne’s fingers freeze against the tablet. An indecipherable look crosses his face, but he schools his features quickly and gives you a small smile.

“Thank you…you both have always been so kind to me,” he murmurs and finally turns to face you, “I’ll try my best to make it to dinner this week.”

Your face lights up, excitement sparking in your eyes. “Okay! I’ll let her know! She’ll probably make all your favorites. They haven’t changed, right?”

Zayne shakes his head, and you can’t help but kick your feet giddily. It’ll be nice to catch up. You have so many questions, and also so many stories to tell from your training days.

“Now that those plans are made, shall we proceed with your exam?”

“Right, right.” You almost forgot that’s what you’re here for. Nerves coming back, you shuffle on top of the stool. “What do you need me to do?”

“First, if you would remove your jacket, I’ll take your blood pressure and listen to your heart,” he instructs, voice settling back into something professional and neutral.

As Zayne turns away to fetch whatever tools he needs, you make quick work of taking your jacket off. The room is a little chillier than you expect. You wrap your arms around yourself to chase away the goosebumps that erupt across your skin. Your eyes stay glued on Zayne though, watching as he pulls a stethoscope and blood pressure monitor from one of his drawers.

“Do you usually do exams in your office?” You ask offhandedly.

“Not usually. As a cardiothoracic surgeon, I don’t often conduct general exams,” he hums, cleaning off the blood pressure cuff with a sterile wipe.

“Am I special or something, then?”

“With the rarity of your protocore syndrome, I thought it would be most effective to handle your care myself, yes. Though if it makes you uncomfortable we can-”

Zayne’s words cut off as he finally looks back at you. Surprise flickers across his face.

You freeze like a deer caught in headlights, though you don’t know why. Is there something on your face? A stain on your tank top? You glance down, finding nothing of the sort.

“What? What is it? Do I have something on me?” Your hands flicker up to your face, but you don’t feel anything.

Zayne blinks and shakes his head as if coming out of a stupor. The lightest blush warms his ears.

“My apologies. I just wasn’t aware you had so many tattoos.”

Oh. Holding out your arms, you look over the expanse of ink on your skin. You guess it’s a lot. It has taken you a few years, but you’ve effectively covered your arms and shoulders in art. Most of it is florals, with small, meaningful symbols or items hidden in the foliage. You also have a few others, though they’re covered by your clothes.

“I guess you wouldn’t have seen them,” you hum thoughtfully, “I wear a lot of long sleeves to Grandma’s dinners. And work requires us to cover them up.”

“They’re quite intricate.” He sets his tools aside, drawing his chair closer to you. His hand reaches for your arm, but pauses, his eyes darting up to yours. “May I?”

“Go for it,” you whisper, feeling a little bashful now that his attention is focused solely on you.

His fingers graze your wrist lightly, as if he’s scared to press too hard. You watch as he silently turns your arm over, taking in every minute detail of your tattoos. He lingers a little longer on the small, anatomical heart at the center of it all, surrounded by gentle jasmines. They’re incredibly well done, even he can see that, and they all look like they were done some time ago.

Something melancholic and sentimental settles in his chest.

“I remember when you were just a little girl, crying over her popsicle…You truly are all grown up now, aren’t you?” His voice is thick with something you can’t quite pinpoint, his touch turning impossibly tender as he traces the lines up your elbow.

Your heart flutters a little too wildly for your likings. “You’re all grown up too, mister chief cardiac surgeon. That’s a lot bigger than some tattoos.”

Another smile pulls at his lips, breaking his impassive facade.

“These have all healed well, though,” Zayne says, a spark of mischief flickering in his eyes as that strange emotion recedes, “You must have taken good care of them, and that alone is an impressive feat for you. That’s how I know you’ve grown up.”

A mock gasp escapes you and you pull your hand away to press it against your chest. If only to break the contact so he doesn’t notice your racing pulse.

“Doctor Zayne, I am deeply offended at your insinuation,” you insist vehemently, “I am a responsible person, soon to be an amazing hunter! I know how to take care of myself.”

“Says the woman who walked on a sprained ankle for a week out of pure stubbornness.”

“How was I supposed to know it was sprained?”

“I told you it was.”

---

Xavier

The first time Xavier sees your tattoos is after a mission that doesn’t go quite right. You come home with a bandage wrapped around your shoulder and chest, and the added instructions to change the gauze once a day. Which, of course, you can’t do yourself.

“Xav?”

Xavier glances up from where he’s sitting in the sun, a book long forgotten in his lap. Those sleepy blue eyes land on you questioning. You shuffle awkwardly in the doorway, a roll of gauze in your hand.

“Would you help me real quick?” You mumble, a soft blush warming your cheeks, “I can’t uh, I can’t change them myself.”

“Of course,” he hums immediately, standing and stretching languidly, much like a cat. “I am at your service, my lady.”

“Thanks,” you sigh, shoulders sagging, which sends a twinge of pain down your arm.

It was a nasty cut. You had been so focused on fighting one wanderer that you hadn’t noticed another smaller one appearing behind you. It was your fault, and thankfully it didn’t hit anything serious, but it was in just the right place to make moving your arm difficult.

Xavier silently leads you back into the kitchen. Taking the bandages from your hand, he pulls out a chair and motions for you to sit. You do so carefully, not wanting to jostle your body too much. The hunter sets the gauze aside and kneels down in front of you, his fingers finding the hem of your sweater and pausing, placid blue eyes turning up to you in question.

Ever the gentleman.

A tiny smile pulling at your lips, you offer him a small nod. That’s all he needs to pull it off, his hands moving slowly, with the utmost care. Thankfully, the room isn’t too cold, the setting sun pouring through the window and warming the space. The fabric musses your hair as he slips it over your head, and you instinctively reach up to fix it.

Completely missing the way Xavier’s eyes go wide as he looks down at you.

There aren’t a lot of things that catch the hunter off guard. But the ink covering your skin certainly does. Even with the bandages, he can tell it’s expansive, curling around your shoulders, dipping down your upper arms, painting the entirety of your back. It’s reminiscent of Starry Night, hundreds if not thousands of strokes forming delicate lines that follow the natural curves of your body, flowing so beautifully that they practically beg his fingers to trace them.

And as always with you, Xavier has a startling lack of self-control.

You blink at the feeling of his fingers grazing your uninjured shoulder. His touch is so light, you could almost mistake it for a breath. Almost like he’s worried he’ll hurt you.

“Is something wrong?” You ask, voice twinged with concern as you try and twist to look at where his touch lingers against your skin.

“Stay still,” Xavier orders gently, and you freeze, brows arching in confusion. Realizing you're panicking a little, the hunter leans down to press a kiss to your forehead, offering a soft explanation, “You never told me you have so many tattoos. I simply want to appreciate them.”

“Oh.” Your nerves fizzle out, replaced with an embarrassed tinge of excitement. So that’s what this is about. “I forgot I haven’t shown you them yet. I guess I’m so used to them that I forget they’re there, especially since I have to cover them for work.”

Xavier shifts behind you, fingers following the lines over your shoulder. They bleed into a wash of color, dark blue and purple and pink splashes across your back. A small planet of light sits between your shoulder blades, numerous stars dancing around it. His touch lingers on the planet, a flicker of light spilling from his fingers as his evol reacts unprovoked.

“What made you choose this?” He asks, voice wavering imperceptibly.

“I’m not sure,” you hum, shrugging your good shoulder, “I’ve always liked space. My grandma used to take me to the planetarium a lot when I was young, and I used to have dreams about it, of floating between planets and exploring the stars. I always felt drawn to this one planet, it was so pretty and it looked like it was made of light, but I could never reach it…”

Philos.

Something twinges in Xavier’s chest. How strange. You don’t remember the planet, that’s for certain, yet some part of you was still connected to it. To your home. To him. All this time…

“It’s beautiful,” he all but whispers.

Heat tinges your cheeks. That’s not usually what people say. It’s not for everyone, you know that. It’s a lot of ink, but you dreamt for so long about getting it. Still, most people usually just make offhand comments, not exactly rude, but not exactly compliments either. Like, oh that must have hurt a lot. Or, you must have saved a lot of money, huh?

Never beautiful.

And yet Xavier traces your ink with what almost feels like admiration. It makes your heart flutter with an uncharacteristic shyness, shoulders jolting up to your neck.

That’s when you remember your injury.

Letting out a low hiss, you drop your shoulder quickly as pain sizzles down your arm. Both of you had practically forgotten about it, caught in the moment. Xavier’s brow furrows again, an apology floating past his lips as he draws his fingers away - much to your disappointment.

“It’s okay,” you breathe, offering him a weak smile, “I just pulled it a little funny. We should probably check it, though.”

“Alright, I’ll be gentle,” he murmurs as he reaches for the edge of your bandage.

“...Thanks, by the way.”

You’re not sure what exactly you’re thanking him for. Helping you or his sweet reaction to the art decorating your skin. Maybe both.

And Xavier must know. He leans down, lips ghosting over your shoulder is an adoring kiss.

“Of course, my star.”

---

Sylus

The first time Sylus sees your tattoos is, of course, on the night you attend the auction. There’s no hiding the ink covering your body when you’re wearing a dress, after all. If anything, though, you think they’ll help you fit in a little better in the N109 Zone.

And you love the reaction Sylus gives you when you step out into the foyer.

For the briefest moment, his eyes go wide. Shock, perhaps the rarest emotion you’ve never had the pleasure of seeing on him, flashes behind those carmine eyes. In an instant, it disappears though, hidden with his usual cocky expression, one of his fine brow ticking up in amusement.

“I’ll admit, sweetie,” the man hums, “You’ve surprised me.”

You flash him a cat-like grin, satisfaction burning deep in your veins, and give a little theatrical spin, “Not what you were expecting, huh?”

Hardly a single part of your body remains untouched by ink. Most of the designs are artistic. Flourishing lines twisting and curling around your muscles, strangely reminiscent of the form his evol takes. They form a network of delicate webs across your body, sometimes forming shapes, sometimes with words written along the fine linework.

It’s hauntingly beautiful. Sylus can’t help but let his eyes slowly rove over your form, taking in every detail. They’re like a map, and his fingers are itching to explore every part of you, to see just how far the ink slips below the hem of the dress. A dress which he bought for you yet can’t be bothered to even notice now, not with such a dazzling sight set before him.

“Who knew the kitten would turn into a tigress at night,” he murmurs, voice going low and teasing as he slowly circles around you, a predatory glint in his eyes.

Your boldness wavers.

Sylus always seems to have that effect on you. Like a lamb straying from the herd and being found by the wolf. Prey before a predator starved, maw open and hungry, as if he could consume you whole. And all you can do is hold your ground, even if your legs shake, like that little lamb’s.

“Careful, Sylus,” you whisper, trying to appear unshaken by not following him with your eyes, despite the unease you feel not knowing exactly where he is, “This tiger has claws.”

You feel more than hear his presence come up behind you. A shiver traces down your spine when his breath skates over your ear, warm and far too intentional. In the same way, his fingers trace reverently down your arm, following the path of your ink, until they can intertwine with yours and draw your hand up to his lips.

“And that’s how I prefer you.” His voice is low, a mere rumble against your skin as he kisses your knuckles. Another shudder. “After all, it would be a shame to declaw such a beautiful creature. Even if she likes to scratch.”

God, you hate him.

You hate that it takes everything in you to rip yourself away from his enticing warmth. You hate that your heart is racing against your ribs, like it’s trying desperately to escape. And you especially hate the absolutely smug grin that plays on his lips (and the fact that you want to kiss it so badly).

“You’re teasing me,” you breathe unsteadily, putting space between the two of you.

Something dark flashes in his eyes, “Whatever do you mean, sweetie? I was merely giving you a compliment.”

“Then you give weird compliments,” you fire back, arms wrapping around yourself. “It sounds more like you’re making fun of me.”

Sylus pauses. Those ruby red eyes narrow on you thoughtfully, his lips pressing into a thin line. A tick of silence. Then his expression smoothes into something almost soft, and he takes a few measured steps towards you. Long fingers graze your palm again. A question.

And you give in far too easily, not fighting as he intertwines your fingers once again. His other hand skirts along your exposed shoulder, following the lines of your tattoo as they fade at your neck. You’re frozen under the sudden tenderness of his touch, your pulse racing against his fingertips.

“My apologies, kitten. That wasn’t my intention,” he murmurs, eyes boring into yours with an unnerving genuineness, “I simply meant that your tattoos are...befitting of your character. You are truly…” He looks you over once more, his gaze leaving a tantalizing heat in its wake. That dangerous smile curls his lips again. “Captivating.”

You inhale shakily.

No one has said something like that to you before. Not that you can remember, at least. It would sound cheesy from someone else, but from Sylus? The intensity of his tone leaves you feeling as unsteady as your heart. Lightheaded.

All you can do is blink up at him, eyes wide and doe-ish. No smart retort or comeback. Your mouth, in fact, feels remarkably dry. It fills the man with a touch of pride, rendering you so speechless.

Not one to let you stay dumbfounded for too long, though, Sylus lets out a smooth chuckle and taps your chin, “Careful, sweetie. If you look at me like that, I might just think you’re falling for me.”

Which of course works. Because he knows you better than you know yourself.

“I am not!” You squawk, face going up in flames. “You just surprised me, that's all! I didn’t know you were capable of such niceties.”

Sylus grins, drawing away as you swat at his hand, “Then it seems that we’re even.”

You scowl at him. So not fair.

“Now, would you like to accompany me to this auction, sweetheart?” He offers his arm. You keep your pout up for only a few seconds before giving in and slipping your hand around his elbow begrudgingly. Sylus hums in amusement, leaning in to press a ghost of a kiss against your cheek. “Looking like this, you’ll have no trouble getting the results you’ve been searching for, tonight. You’ll be the perfect distraction, my dear.”

“Well then, let’s not keep them waiting, shall we?”

---

Not gonna lie, Sylus' was probably my favorite. In my head I was kind of picturing the tattoos that Anthony Padilla has (from smosh, yes, sue me), and I just think he would totally call you a tiger since he likes calling you kitten.

Hope y'all enjoyed!

I'm really feeling some angst next possibly...

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pretty-little-mind33 · 2 months ago

Text

FEM!READER PULLING HIS TIE!

(ft. aaron taylor johnson characters)

ask: The boys u currently take requests for and their reactions to reader pulling them close by their tie plz plz plz I'll worship you forever🙏🙏🙏

warnings: implied explicit themes

includes - in said order

~ James Potter - harry potter marauders era (yes ik it's technically a fancast but he's my baby)

~ Tangerine - bullet train

~ Dave Lizewski - kick-ass

~ Count Alexei Vronksy - anna karenina 2012

~ Tom Ryder - the fall guy

~ Pietro Maximoff - avengers: age of ultron

~ worship me forever you say? 😏 ~

• James and his parents host plenty of fancy parties at the Potter mansion. They're always fun but formal, which means, obviously, James is wearing a suit and a tie.

• As his girlfriend, he insists that your dress matches his tie. He's very very serious when he says it. Like, dead serious. He'll pout if you don't and you find it slightly annoying, if not endearing.

• During the party, you'll mingle with your friends and have a blast. You and James don't have to stay connected at the hip, but he'll always check in on you.

• You'll have a few drinks, being slightly tipsy. James is as tipsy and he'll make a joke as you stumble towards each other, your hand fiddling with his tie.

• "You look like someone hit you with a bludger," James will giggle, his words slurred.

• You'll smirk and your hand tightens around his tie, yanking him down to your height, pressing your lips onto his and savoring his taste. He tastes like the expensive cherry wine his Mum adores.

• Obviously, this turns James on and he has to control himself from ravaging you in the middle of the dance floor because that isn't very gentlemanly of him.

• Tangerine always wears his suit out. He has an assortment of suits, mostly in different shades of blue (to match his eyes but he'll never admit to that.)

• You love his suits because you find them sexy. He knows you love them so he feels ever sexier.

• "Stop starin' at me like that," he'll joke, glaring as he walks by you.

• He loves when you stare.

• Often, you'll use his tie to pull him places whenever you want him to follow you. The small gesture of dominance turning him on so badly. Tangerine is usually the one in control, but not this time 😉

• Tangerine will happily follow you like a puppy, being lead by his tie and Lemon makes fun of him, which only earns him a middle finger from his brother.

• Pull him in by his tie and kiss him? He's head over heels, he's a goner

• 100% secretly likes when you're in charge (you know this)

• "You like when I pull you around, huh?"

• He'll nod. You make him a mess and he can't bring himself to care.

• Dave only wears a suit and a tie on special occasions and so because it's rare to see him in formal attire, when you do it does always make it extra special.

• You can't keep your hands off him and he's obsessed.

• "Mm, you look so pretty, Davey," you'll whisper in his ear, your fingers gliding over smooth the material of his tie (you'd helped him tie it)

• Dave's cheeks will burn a bright pink and you'll stroke some of his dark curls behind his ear, touching where his ears have turned pink too as your smile widens. You love making him flustered!

• If you're at a school dance, you'll be attached to his hip the entire time.

• It's your fourth dance and just as the evening dies down and it's his turn to press a kiss to your cheek, missing your lips by a little.

• You'll smirk and use his tie to guide his head so he doesn't miss your lips this time. The kiss surprises him as he blushes from embarrassment and also his overwhelming love for you.

• Does Alexei wear ties or bow ties?!

• Well either way, there is always something to grab onto (😏) and because your favorite thing to do is help him dress before a night out, adjusting his cuffs and collar for example, you use it to your advantage.

• "Why do you have a cheeky look on your face, dove?" He'll ask, his blue eyes narrowing as his gaze then flickers to the mirror behind him to check his appearance.

• "No reason, my love," you whisper.

• There is a reason.

• Once you finish, you smile up at him and pull him closer, your hand wrapped around the fabric, as you kiss his lips passionately.

• When you pull away, his cheeks are flushed and he can barely form words. His hands slide down your waist and tighten.

• "Do it again, please," Alexei will whisper in your ear.

• Tom is a cocky asshole. He prides himself on always being on top. But you being his girlfriend, it comes with certain perks.

• You have him wrapped around your finger as you push him against his trailer, kissing him roughly. Tom is loving the attention as he makes snarky comments between kisses.

• You grab his tie, the one he's wearing for his costume, and pull harshly. You bite on his lip, causing a yelp from him and a faint blush to grace his features.

• "Shit," Tom groans, his eyes wide.

• You'll pull away and tighten your hand around his tie. "You like that?"

• Tom nods and pulls you in for another kiss.

• Pietro is always bouncing around, so to get him to stay still is a pretty hard task.

• You're at an Avengers party when you see him fidgeting with this tie in the corner, either anxious to leave or anxious to be here. You feel for him.

• So, you walk over and stand directly in front of him. "Are you okay, Pietro?" you ask kindly, watching him fiddle with the tie. It‘a quite badly done.

• You smile and pull his hand away gently. Pietro startles, his cheeks turning pink as he feels embarrassed. "Papa n-never taught me," he says, sounding shyer than you've ever seen him.

• "It's okay. I can do it for you," you hum and tie his tie correctly. "Why didn't you ask Clint?"

• Pietro would shrug, looking away. "I was embarrassed," he admits, looking even more embarrassed.

• He looks at you, his heart beat pounding so hard. Yours does the same, your fingers curling in his tie as you slowly pull him in. Your lips hover above his for a moment, hesitating.

• Pietro is the one who kisses you, finding his cheeky charm again as the embarrassment from the situation fades.

• "How long you been wanting to do that?" he teases.

• You roll your eyes at him, swatting his arm.

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charliemwrites · 11 months ago

Text

Woof woof yall.

No content warnings

You’re out in the woods one day, taking photos and going for a little hike. Stupid mental health walk or something; whatever, it’s a nice day and you’ve gotten some good shots. You’re just about to turn back when a huge brown and black wolf lopes out from a nearby thicket.

There aren’t any wolves in England though! Hunted to extinction - it’s why you feel safe bebopping around the forest alone in the daylight. So you see this big fuck-off sized “dog” and coo at the pretty puppy.

“Hello handsome boy, aren’t you just gorgeous! Will you come say hi?”

You do all the right things that you’re supposed to do with an unfamiliar dog but he just barges right through. Trots up to you, nose shoved into your crotch. You startle, bark a laugh, shove at his big stupid head.

“A little forward,” you tease, scratching under his chin, “but it’s better than biting.”

You feel all around his neck for a collar, but no luck. He must be someone’s though, huge blue eyes too intelligent and focused on your words. And his coat is so well maintained, glossy and shedded.

“Do you know how to… sit?”

An adorable head tilt, and the big dog settles onto his hind quarters.

“What a good boy!” you croon. “So smart!”

He licks at your palm and wrist as you scratch at him, huge tail thumping. A canine grin, tongue lolling out as he waits for your next command.

You hum.

“Well, guess we can check if you’re microchipped, huh? Or at least I can get you some water. See if someone recognizes you…”

You make a kissy noise at him. “Let’s go, big boy. Come.”

And to your delight, he falls into step with you. He weaves along the path ahead and behind, but always loops back to you, brushing against your thigh as if to reassure you he’s still there.

You hum as you walk, giggling when you see his ears twitch and swivel towards you. Tease that he should do better if he doesn’t like your version of Jolene.

You only cross paths with two other people on the walk, a pair of guys clearly out for a more serious hike. The dog plants himself between you and them, ears pinning back and a low growl erupting from his chest. You startle a bit, carefully burying your fingers around his scruff in case you need to grab him quickly.

“I’m guessing he doesn’t belong to either of you, then?” you ask.

One of the guys shakes his head. The other gives you an odd look. “He’s not yours?”

The dog barks, loud and rough. You shush him, explain the situation to the hikers. But the dog never stops rumbling and they quickly go on their way, keeping a wide berth.

You huff. “Don’t like men, huh?”

Poor thing. Maybe he was abandoned by a mean owner?

“S’alright, bud, I’ll be good to you.”

He follows you all the way back to your home. And when you open the door, shoulders right past you.

“Ah, shit,” you groan. “You weren’t supposed to come in!”

He gives you an almost betrayed look. You try not to huff in amusement.

“So help me, if you bring nasty things in this house I will shave you. Shave you. You’ll look so silly. Like an overgrown raw turkey.”

The dog turns, trots back to you. You didn’t realize just how big he is until he’s got his big paws on your shoulders. You blink, have to take a step back to brace against the weight of him. In his hind legs he’s taller than you. Really could pass for a pure bred wolf.

A big, rough tongue licks from your jaw to your forehead. You scrunch up your face but end up laying a kiss on his muzzle in return.

“Alright, you big nasty. Down you get.”

You shut and lock the door behind you, brushing leaves and dirt off.

“Okay, shower first,” you say aloud, already tugging off your clothes. “Then we’ll run into town, see if we can track down your family.”

You don’t mind the dog staring, unblinking, as you strip down right there, balling things up to avoid tracking a mess through the house. Nor do you mind him following you to the bathroom, though you do push at his snout when he licks the back of your knee. Just normal dog things, really. They don’t get people stuff like clothes or boundaries.

“Stay out of trouble, bud. I’ll be right out.”

As you wash up, you consider the merits of adopting. Only if you can’t find the dog’s actual family, that is. It’s lonely in your little house sometimes - and a bit spooky at night. A big, protective dog might be just the thing.

Masterlist

#cod #thoughts™️#my writing #fanfiction #dark fic #reader fic

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attapullman · 1 month ago

Text

Bob From Pi Kapp | Robert "Bob" Floyd

While this can be enjoyed on it's own, the recommended reading on the syllabus for this class is Bob From Stats before proceeding.

Summary: First he's late to chapter, and now Bob is late to your Stats final. You saved him a seat. But should you also save one for his hobby horse?

Word Count: 3k

Warnings: 18+ ONLY as always, f!reader, no use of y/n, smuttttttt, goofy frat behavior, the other Daggers do make a brief appearance

A Note From Mo: Happy Start of the School Year! It wouldn't feel quite like autumn without checking in with our favourite frat boy-turned-cowboy and what shenanigans the Pi Kapps are getting up to. Can anyone guess what unforgettable moment in TV history inspired this second part to stats!Bob?

It’s unfair how good he looks laying between your thighs.

Sandy hair disheveled, glasses fogged at the rim. Chest heaving beneath thin cotton, catching his breath after a marathon make out session in your cramped dorm bed. There’s still three sections left in the review material, but Bob’s only now coming up for air as an alarm sounds and he reluctantly sits up.

Your hands reach out trying to pull him back into your embrace. He playfully swats them away, unwillingly having to extricate himself. Your fingers catch in the hem of his shirt, twisting in the fabric.

“I have to go!” He jovially laughs, returning your grabby hand back as he wiggles into his sweatshirt. “I have chapter - a non-negotiable, remember?”

While you sarcastically cross your arms and hmph at him, he knows you aren’t actually angry. Disappointed, sure, but how could you be mad at those big round blue puppy eyes? Especially after he’s been attached to your lips since he swung by after lecture hours ago. You’ve started having a Pavlovian response every time he asks if you ‘want to study’.

Sitting up, you take your study buddy in, straightening his clothes before having to mad dash to Greek Row. He’s all long limbs and sturdy shoulders, the thick tendons of his fingers showing off the strength that he exhibits every time you get him into bed. That trucker hat is already back on his head and your eyes wander to his freshly shaven jaw and neck.

“Bob, you can’t go to chapter like that.”

He stops in his tracks and his brows crease in confusion, glasses highlighting his cornflower eyes. “It’s not a formal thing, jeans are fine. But I gotta go, there’s a fine if I’m late and I have perfect attendance.”

You shake your head and walk him the three steps over to the wardrobe in your tiny dorm, the full-length mirror on the side barely lit by the florescent bulb. Bob fills out the entire view, the mirror barely tall enough to capture above his torso, but just enough for you to gently hook your fingers into the soft heather collar of his sweatshirt. You don’t even have to tug for him to see the glaring concern.

Mottled along the left side of his neck are three mouth-shaped mauve bruises. They’ve only just begun to bloom, but against his creamy skin they stand out like stop signs. You didn’t think you had been sucking so hard. Or bitten so deep.

“I think they look kind of pretty.” He’s teasing, but you’re mortified.

Bob kisses your heated cheek, gathering his hood around his neck. “It’s fine, don’t worry. I’ll hunch my shoulders and no one will be the wiser.” At this point he’s used to his roommates pointing out the signs of affection you leave on him every week.

You’re still hot from embarrassment twenty minutes later, curled on your little dorm bed reading through your organic chemistry textbook. Though part of that may be from the lingering kiss he gave you before promising to text you after. It’s not your fault he’s perfectly adorable and fuckable - you’re only human.

Beside you, a small ping interrupts your (distracted) studying. It’s a text from Bob, slightly earlier than planned.

BF: They may have noticed 😬

His Pi Kapp brothers not only noticed the arrangement of love bites along his neck - you were lying to yourself if you thought they were in any way subtle - and the house of frat boys were now taking turns lining up to get photos with Love Bite Bob for posterity. Plus he was a minute late to chapter.

You’re still giggling to yourself when you turn off the light for the night. The photo of your boyfriend’s cherry red face matching your indecent markings, a swarm of Pi Kapp sweatshirts and backwards baseball caps in the background, and mischievous grins filling every corner of your dreams.

Students mill past you, filing into the atrium of the lecture hall with a buzz of misery and despair around them. Finals Week. Every backpack in sight is heavy with textbooks and over a dozen weeks worth of notes. Your last neon highlighter died last night from overuse.

Amongst the throng of students also dreading your Stats final, you have yet to see that vintage trucker hat Bob has been sporting since September. It seems off-brand that he wouldn’t be early, broad back already hunched over in that cramped seat with his calculator and an apprehensive smile.

The last few weeks of sitting next to each other have been exquisite - elbows bumping in his new desk next to yours, thighs brushing in those impossibly close seats. It’s a part of your routine at this point. Bob still lends you a pencil, but you barely take any notes once the toe of his sneaker runs along your shin and suddenly you two are playing footsie like teenagers.

It’s been a horny remaining nine weeks of Stats. It was lucky that Bob was as studious as he was or you’d have gotten nothing done, stealing kisses between flashcards. Not to mention the glorious hour he spent with his head buried between your thighs while you memorized formulas, swearing he’d only leave your clit alone after you could recite them backwards.

And yet he was missing from your very last class together. The last chance to borrow a pencil and brush elbows for an hour like foreplay. Where was he?

Wanting to get yourself settled, you resign to entering the lecture hall and sitting beside Anna in one of the front rows. She gives you a sympathetic look at your dejected grimace. Your dorm room has been a testament to many a study night as of late, the two of you swapping sticky notes and notes like candy. The hall titters with students chatting as you not-so-subtly keep checking the door for latecomers, the seconds ticking down before those heavy doors shut.

The seat beside you is still empty when the teaching assistant shuts the oak doors, signaling the exam’s start.

Your professor stands at the front of the lecture hall holding a tall stack of booklets and gives a wicked grin. “Who’s ready to see what they actually learned about probability this semester?”

A collective groan sounds out and he sinisterly laughs before starting up the ancient projector. The bustle of pens and paper disappear when the loud thunk of the lecture hall doors slam open, bouncing off the sturdy brick walls and turning every head at the latecomer.

Giggles, snorts, and neighing all blend together as the cavernous lecture hall bustles with noise. Your head whips around to catch the commotion, eyes widening in surprise.

Five men in auxiliary blue Pi Kapp sweatshirts and their own hobby horses (featuring a rather familiar Appaloosa) come galloping down the stairs, heading straight for the center stage. Standing front and center in beat up cowhide boots, a well-used felt Stetson, and tight jeans is none other than your favorite frat cowboy, blue-eyed Bob from Stats.

His posse of Greek lettered faux cowboys stand around him, jostling each other’s shoulders and pretending to calm their steeds. Your professor patiently waits behind the pulpit, curious how this will play out with the exam he’s supposed to be proctoring. You’re gripping your seat in confusion and anticipation.

Once the raucous laughter has died down, Pi Kapp President Jake Seresin makes a show of steadying his hobby horse once more while three fellow cowboys spread out across the room, casually milling through the aisles with their wooden horses clanging between their jean-clad knees. Looking more like a lamb at slaughter all by himself, Bob calmly holds his own, knuckles rolling over the handles of his ‘horse’. Jake grins at his Pi Kapp brother before turning to his captive audience.

“Howdy, pard’ners!” The blonde’s voice booms in the cavernous hall. Various greetings yell out from all over the rows, Anna throwing in her own Howdy.

This is crazy. Anna looks at you for answers, but you have none. Whatever is going on, Pi Kappa Phi Ranch has invaded your Stats final.

Their president makes a show of quieting the room, hand hauntingly on his hip. “So, we’ve been traveling all over this here Wild West looking for something.”

Reuben Fitch, a Pi Kapp brother and one of Bob’s roommates, stands tall at the top of the steps and calls back to him, “And what is that something, Brother Seresin?”

“Glad you asked. We’re looking for a cowgirl.”

The name catches your attention. Your blood runs cold and by default your eyes flash to Bob, hoping to find the answers in those wide, truthful ultramarine eyes. But he continues to stare boldly ahead, letting his brothers put on their show.

Giddily clomping around with the stick of his black mare clacking on the stairs, Mickey Garcia raucously yells out, “So let’s look for her!”

Suddenly the four men are traipsing around the spacious room pretending to ride their horses, the hundreds of seats no match for their speed as they run up and down aisles, zipping through seats and over student’s knees.

“Not here!”

Heat creeps along your skin as you feel Jake’s right hand man, Javy Machado, lock in on you, the squeak of his sneakers and thwack of his horse against the ground alerting his arrival. Your eyes bore into the side of Bob’s head - spectacles still facing forward - as every classmate watches the frat boy descend. Javy stops only feet from where you’re clutching the edge of your desk.

“This one here looks like she could be a real ol’ cowgirl!” Javy’s horrible Western accent and shit eating grin are begging to be smacked off his face. He turns toward the familiar Stetson and puts both hands around his mouth as he hollers. “Hey Floyd, found a cowgirl for you!”

That sweet face finally turns to you. Adrenaline floods your nervous system as every pair of eyes in the hall watches his boots clack up the stairs and past the seats until he’s standing in the row before yours, craning over the wooden chair with delicately pink cheeks. From this angle, those cerulean eyes are level with yours. And boy, are they nervous.

His voice is wobbly, but the script is practiced. “Howdy, little lady. Hiding in plain sight, weren’t ya?”

You both know you’ve sat in the same spot since that first day he lent you a pencil.

“Didn’t realize you needed an entire fraternity to find your study buddy.” Your hand waves at the four faux cowboys standing at the end of your row, looking entirely too pleased with themselves. Despite the fact that you’re as timid as him under the stares of your fellow students, you can’t help but be a little sassy and theatrical after the production you just witnessed.

That soft grin comes out to play, always amused by your fire. “I do when I have a question for you.”

The smirk on your face wipes clean. A question? There’s a flutter in the air as students turn to each other, anxious to know what quiet little Bob Floyd has been keeping to himself. Even your professor is leant forward on his elbow patches, brow quirked in interest.

You swallow slowly before responding, barely over a whisper, “What do you want to know?”

Time and space stop as he holds your gaze. So soft and affectionate, as if you are the stars in his night sky. The same hazy look he gave you in that hall closet weeks ago that made you unable to ever look back. He licks his lips, warm hand sliding over yours on the peeling wooden desktop. His eyes are so impossibly open.

“Will you do the honor of being my date to the Pi Kappa Phi spring formal, cowgirl?”

You let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding. Relief tingles through your extremities as your brain starts up again. The pounding of your heart backs up your smart response.

“Only if you let me borrow your boots for dancing.”

Your response settles, then suddenly all around you there’s whoops and hollers. To your left, four hobby horses are whipped into the air and twirled like batons. Mickey yells out, “Yeehaw!”

And yet all you can focus on is the wide grin that’s stretched out Bob’s face, his lean body still bent over the row before yours. You know the same smile is etched on your own jaw as your fingers intertwine. He’s so utterly ridiculous and self-assured. The perfect pairing of endearing. You can’t get enough.

You really wish everyone wasn’t watching so you could kiss him.

“Alright, alright, settle down. We do have a final to get to, if Mr. Floyd would like to take his seat.”

Handing off his trusty steed to his cowboy brothers, Bob takes the hint and makes his way around the row toward you, long legs effortlessly vaulting the nailed-in desks. He stops at the knobby wooden seat next to you and gestures, as if to ask Is this free? The corners of your mouth can’t help but upturn once more as you nod, letting your handsome Bob from Pi Kapp slip into the seat and knock his knee against yours.

You lean in, letting your lips brush against the lobe of his ear. “Not that I wasn’t entertained, but what was all that?”

He shoots you the most blinding grin, the sides of his drowningly blue eyes crinkling behind perfectly straight wire frames.

“My punishment for being late to chapter - they got to choose how I asked you to spring formal.”

Your jaw slackens as your eyes trail over to where his brethren are slinking out the heavy hall doors with their wooden steeds over their shoulders. Those cruel bastards. Your hand reaches out to stroke Bob’s still pinkened cheeks, fingers resting along his jaw to imitate soothing his wounded ego.

“One last yeehaw for Cowboy Bob for the semester, huh?” He guffaws out a laugh and kisses your cheek.

The stack of little blue booklets makes their way over again and Bob grabs one before passing your way. His eyes are glued to you, unable to stop his affectionate attention after putting himself out on the line like that. You open your mouth to say something, but stop when the significance of it hits you. It’s the last time.

The words form out of muscle memory. “Can I borrow a pencil?”

The air between you is sickeningly sweet as he reaches down and grabs two from his bag, handing you the sharper point. You give him a gooey smile as your fingers brush. Test nerves and bittersweet affection trickle down your spine. Who would have thought your hardest class all semester would bring such joy?

For the next ninety minutes your eyes stay strictly on your own booklet, but you can’t help but feel the radiant energy off the guy in a cowboy hat and fraternity sweatshirt and his knee that somehow keeps knocking yours.

“Slow down, cowgirl! I need a minute to recover,” Bob breathily begs from beneath you, where you’re still grinding your hips into his, one arm braced on his chest and the other against your peeling dorm wall. That damn cowboy hat is somewhere on the floor and his skin has evolved into an exerted red from the two orgasms he’s already stolen from you.

You playfully roll your eyes and mutter something about bucking broncos before stilling, still so full of him. You delicately press a kiss to his sweaty cheek, your bare chest against his, timpani heartbeats synchronized.

“While I have you,” you start, and he booms out a laugh, his cock still nestled tightly inside you. “How were you going to ask me to spring formal before?”

He’s so cute when he plays dumb. “Before what?”

“Before the guys made you publicly humiliate yourself to the point you can never take a Stats class again.”

Bob presses his lips together, warm hand smoothing over your hips as he weighs his response. Which is hard when you smell like sex and sweat and that fragrance he can’t quite identify the undertones of but has him dizzy. It’s a miracle he can pull himself away from you sometimes.

“You can’t just be happy knowing that I can never show my face in that building again?”

You reach down to the floor and pick up the worn Stetson, plopping it on your own head. You give him a stern look, stabbing your finger into his chest. He has a hard time being intimidated when his vision is centered on your breasts pressed together so deliciously. “Tell me or I’m sending you to cowboy jail.”

He raises his neck and pecks the tops of your breasts, just how he knows you like. With a joking frown, you grab him by the nape of his neck and stare him down.

“Fine, fine,” Bob laughs deep from his chest. He looks so joyous, the whiff of sex and amorousness coloring him so beautifully. “If you really want to know.”

As you settle in to listen, the reality is that it doesn’t really matter his original plan. It’s that he even wants to go with you, that he’s just as far gone as you’ve been the last fifteen weeks. That one silly pencil would start something worth delaying a Stats final fifteen minutes and continue to another semester.

You just hope one day he’ll get you your own hobby horse.

Massive shoutout to all the Internet besties who keep the stats!Bob brainrot fresh - wouldn't get anything done without all you amazing peeps!

taglist: @berryvanille @bobfloydsbabe @bobgasm @bradshawsbaby @cosmoeticss @creatchie8 @desert-fern @drxgxnslxyer @hangmanapologist @hiireadstuff @himbos-on-ice @jaguarthecat @jessicab1991 @just-in-case-iloveyou @kmc1989 @littlemsbumblebee @mariaenchanted @maryelizabeth13 @midnightmagpiemama @m3ndacious @nerdgirljen @nouis-bum @petersunderoos96 @roosterforme @seitmai @senawashere @smoothdogsgirl @sometimesanalice @sorchathered @spidervman @sweetwhispersofchaos @sydsommersss @tastefulregularthots @theamuz @topherwrites @xoxabs88xox @yuckosworld

#bob floyd x reader #bob floyd smut #robert bob floyd x reader #robert bob floyd smut #bob floyd fan fiction #robert bob floyd fan fiction #stats!bob #bob floyd au #robert bob floyd au #frat!bob floyd #top gun maverick au #bob floyd x you #robert bob floyd x you

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bunnyyyuu · 2 months ago

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ftm!megumi is so dear to me……. <3 he’s always trying to act tough and annoyed until you’re knuckles deep in his pussy and suddenly all the glares and mean comments r gone!!!! jst making little circles in his clit is enough for him to get glassy eyed n hazy i love him

includes: gn! reader, aged up! ftm megumi, overstim (kinda), anon spittin facts, not proofread wordvomit oops

megumi can be kind of a dick if you let him. thankfully, you don't let him .

his normally disinterested eyes are blown wide open during the middle of you two making out when you cup his cunt through his pant. he pulls back to stare at you and that stupid, evil smile quirking up your lips. he doesn't have anything to say, though; no scoffs, no eyerolls, no muttered digs at you.

you're tugging down his pants in record time. he gets all shy and flustered—much unlike his usual act. pressing his legs together to keep the way you can see his dripping cunny through his boxers, pulling the collar of his shirt over his reddened face, his other hand awkwardly hovering around you in uncertainty of where or how to touch you. how adorable, really.

you have to practically force his knees apart, giving him an eyeroll when he lets out an almost silent whine of embarrassment. your hand finds his puffy clit through the dampened layer of cotton and you swear his eyes gloss over. the tight figure eights you swirl over the sensitive nub already have his brain leaking out of his pussy.

"'gumi, 'm barely even doing anythin'," you giggle. laughing in his face at his most vulnerable was a pretty low blow, but the way your fingers lazily work his throbbing clit registers him too stupid to care.

he gives a half-hearted shrug, your words not even really affecting his state.

it's not long until you're slipping your hand under the waistband of his boxers and gently teasing his entrance with two fingers. he's clenching around nothing, so much slick arousal coating him it's like a waterslide. he mumbles out your name with a half-real half-fake annoyance in attempt to get you to just fuck him already!

megumi's impatient, yes, but he can't deny how much he loves when you tease him. he's so sensitive, fragile even, that even your featherlight, ghostly touches quickly get him to teeter on the edge of climax. he actually doesn't mind—just don't listen to anything he days.

"please..." he whispers, head rolled back and eyes fluttered shut.

you want to tease the boy longer, want to get him so close then stop abruptly, want to make him into a pitiful, writhing mess. but, alas, you are weak and he is so, so pretty. maybe next time (because there's always a next time with megumi. he's a feind for you) you'll wreck him for real.

he's moaning and gasping out your name like he's choking on the syllables when your fingers sink into his sopping pussy. he feels like he might die or cum right then and there—maybe both.

his hips are bucking against your hand instantly, not giving you any time to set a slow pace, unlike the sloppy desperate rolling of his hips. his clit bumps your palm with each thrust against it, his blue eyes so far back in his skull he can see his brain with 20/20 vision.

"megs, calm down," you grumble, digging the fingers into of your free hand into his thigh, "lemme do it..."

he's not one to get this needy, but, god, the way your fingers fit inside his velvety walls is all too perfect. he can't resist humping your hand like a bitch in heat. he just shakes his head weakly.

"at least look at me," you say with a small pout on your face.

and, when he does, your heart swells.

his eyes are wide open and glassy, tears forming on his waterline. his indigo irises look lighter than normal, glittering with white swirling highlights. his eyebrows are knitted together above them. his lips are parted and swollen from how you attacked them earlier as he pants and whimpers, the bottom one quivering in shaky breaths. you're the only one who sees him like this, so weak, so eager.

on one hand, no one else deserves to see him like this. on the other, he's just so beautiful you want everyone to see him and know it (and know that he's all yours).

it takes only a few minutes of him grinding on your fingers as if it were the only thing he knew how to do before he's painting your hand and the inside of the boxers he'd never bothered to peel off with his squirt. it's dirty and would ruin the moment if he wasn't so utterly lost in it. his hole squeezes you so tight it feels like your fingers might get cut off while he gushes buckets around them.

you aid him in riding out his blissful high by gently curling your fingers inside him, eliciting the most beautiful sounds of pleasure from his lips. he hides his face into your neck.

he's mumbling some apology for making a mess or being so needy against your skin but it doesn't matter one bit.

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absolutebl · 3 months ago

Text

This Week in BL - Getting hot under the collar and in the kitchen and on the pool table and...

Organized, in each category, with ones I'm enjoying most at the top.

Aug 2024 Week 3

Ongoing Series - Thai

Monster Next Door (Thai Thurs Gaga ) eps 3-4 of 12 - one of the things I'm enjoying about this show is the fact that the introverted super shy uke is having hot fantasies, and the extroverted seme is having the sweet fantasies. It's another way this show is highlighting God being the world's greenest flagged seme BL has ever produced. (And he's being given stiff competition this year - trend alert.)

Anygay: God is so cute and so not cool and so in love and all the consent asking word salad coming out of this boy. I LOVE him.

Diew: It’s ep 4 so I’ve decided we can talk face-to-face. God: So how many children do you want?

The teaching him to play basketball bit, where God politely asks to hold his hand, is so freaking adorable I can’t.

I'm thinking of calling this show the anti-Mame pill.

Blue pill? Red pill? GREEN pill!

My Love Mix-Up Th (Fri YT) ep 11 of 12 - We gotta talk. I do like this version, but it’s starting to feel lackluster. Perhaps it always was by comparison to the bright sparkle uniqueness of the original. Perhaps I didn't notice because I was distracted by G4. But now I gotta say it's become a bit disappointing and even my love for G4 can’t seem to bind me to this. Frankly, this show is making me want to watch either the Japanese version, or My School President. It’s never a good sign when a currently airing BL makes me want to stop that and go rewatch an old one I’ve already seen.

NO SINGING.

Meanwhile, the "locked on the rooftop" trope! I haven’t seen that one in years. Cool. Also cute kisses. They learning.

This Love Doesn't Have Long Beans (Fri iQIYI) ep 7 of 8 - I can’t believe this is ending next week. But also I can. And I have thoughts.

I really love SailubPon. They might be one of my favorite newer pairs on the scene right now. But I just don’t believe in these characters or this couple. I don’t feel like they are going to have a lasting relationship. It feels like they’re just using each other for sex and distraction, and that’s how the script to set it up, and as a result they’re never gonna make it as a couple. As soon as the sexual fire between them burns out, what do they have to build a relationship on? Frankly? That would be fine if this were a modern love drama, and not a BL. But this IS a BL.

Putting the health code violators aside, I really do believe in the secondary pair, but they haven’t been given enough bandwidth to develop as a couple. There’s no way they’re going to adequately resolve Methas and JJ in the final episode.

At this juncture, I’m mostly finding this show annoying. Which in itself is annoying, because I wanted to love it.

Why is it that Thailand, the land of the best food in the world, king of BLs, struggles so hard to produce the restaurant set BL of my dreams? I’m really pissed about this.

That said, the Methas & JJ stuff is killer. Loved JJ running away. So good. Plus the age old decision - love or money?

Battle of the Writers (Sun YT) ep 2-3 of 12 - The issue was me and I've managed to get hold of this show again. The story within the story is so ridiculously badly written I'm going spare. I’m not sure if the outside show is not ALSO badly written. That said, I do love how the 3 writer friends are all shipping our leads. It’s VERY silly. Meanwhile, cohabitation trope is a go.

I like the side couple too. Stern Daddy + lost puppy is a very cute dynamic, I hope we get more than just crumbs. I actually am enjoying this show now. Ep 3 kinda derailed into this weird chimera novel that they’re all writing together and I’m finding that bit the least interesting, but I adore the domestic components which I think may turn out to be TutorYim's strength (if they're allowed to lean into it).

Addicted Heroin (Thai Tues WeTV) ep 1 of 10 - Man I hope this gets some kind of distribution at some point. It was a pain to find and watch. But I enjoyed it. The focus is more on the seme in Thailand’s version. Which I don’t mind since that's rare in BL, and it’s more August on my screen. It’s all round softer than China’s version but still feels very familiar. I know some fans are struggling with it, but not me.

Sunset X Vibes (Sat iQIYI) ep 10 of 12 - I like that Sam’s crafty business espionage has paid off. Them teasing Sam & Yo really had me belly laughing. It was so funny.

Legitimate question. Would one put perfume on one’s cheeks in Thailand, as one does on wrist or sternum? Because of the sniff cheek thing? Scented face powders?

I do feel like with MosBank & SailubPon scorching up our screens, we’re being spoiled by some of Thailand‘s best high heat pairs at the moment.

I Saw You in My Dream (Weds Gaga) ep 5 of 12 - It remains kind of sweet and cute. It's also calm and slow moving. Oddly it reminds me of La Cuisine in its style and execution (if not content). I’m enjoying it more than I thought I would.

The Trainee (Sun YouTube) ep 7 of 12 - I don’t know. I’m getting bored.

Love Sea (Sun iQIYI) ep 10fin - Fort’s acting during the break-up was truly great. But I feel for Rak. It’s rough to learn that someone else is playing a long game with feelings while you were playing a short game with d**k.

Ultimately this is probably a solid 8/10 show but I’m mad I wasn’t madder at it, and I'm mad I was so bored throughout. So it gets a 7/10 and let us not speak of this again. I’d like to simply forget about it. Trash watch.

Ongoing Series - Not Thai

Sugar Dog Life (Japan Sun grey) ep 1-2 of 10 - OMG a uni student who looks young and a... COP! GAH. The subversion and kink of it all. I had to go grey to get it and I hate everything about what I had to do. But ya know what? Fucking worth every single repeated crash-causing advertisement.

I love it. The grumpy lonely little student cook and the cheerful mature police officer. What a fabulous dynamic. Is the cook looking for a boyfriend or a Daddy, and do we care if it has the same result? It is filmed VERY manga style camp. I’m a little nervous about that, but this means it’s also very fluffy and so damn sweet. It made me squeak with the cute. I’m gutted this didn’t get distribution.

Ironic that Tawada Hideya is in a new BL while Sunspot is re-airing.

Cosmetic Playlover (Japan Tues Gaga) eps 3-4 of 8 - Ah, the gays are doubting the bisexual again. How familiar. I like how this one is paced and moving through time, even if the relationship seems to be going comparatively slowly by contrast. I love the way Sahashi is always looking at Natsume, even when they’re in conversation with someone else. Ah yearning. I think the conflict was kind of inevitable, given the two personalities of the protagonists, and I like that. (No manufactured angst here.) But I still hope they can repair the breach and I’m still interested. Frankly this is so classically Japan - I don’t know what story beats it’s following and I’m not entirely sure where it’s going, but I kinda like that unpredictability. Makes me think it could go into "must you, Japan?" territory but fingers crossed.

I Hear the Sunspot AKA Hidamari ga Kikoeru (Japan Weds Gaga) ep 9 of 10 - I'm enjoying it very much. I could do without the girl character. I know she’s more interesting than most (this is Japan after all), but she’s not really for me. It’s the complexity of the connection between the leads (and why they like each other) that’s being executed so brilliantly in this show (and in the manga, FYI). Both actors are so on point with their roles and the nuanced emotions required of these characters that every time it’s only them interacting I'm riveted. I could do without the rest of the cast tho.

Seoul Blues (Korea Fri? YouTube) ep 1 of 8 - I have a confession to make, I’ve been watching this whole series as it goes along. But this is the pair I absolutely like the most. I’m not sure I would necessarily recommend any of the installments, and I’m not sure how this one is going to go, but I’m VERY invested in this particular couple. They are so pretty!!!! This is a true friends-to-lovers struggle. I like that a lot. (Reminds me of I Cannot Reach You but a different dynamic.) Did I mention how pretty they are? And we already know they gonna kiss well. I bet the uncut version is stellar.

Meet You at the Blossom (China) - It's no one's funeral, turns out! Reports are in - not only are there kisses but it ends happily with wedding plans. So I'm eating crow, binging the fucker, and live blogging. I'm enjoying it. Ya'll know I adored Chinese BL before censorship. It has a certain unhinged quality I very much apreciate (and is the reason I'm so tolerant of the Thai pulps) that I think will marry well with Wuxia's effervescent and ever-present tropes. Watch me suffer here.

First Note Of Love (Taiwan Mon Gaga) eps 1-2 of 12 - About a singer with stage fright and his timid fan starring Charles (H4 the puppy one) and Michael Chang (the youngster in My Tooth Your Love), plus side couple featuring a Thai actor Jame (Koh in Gen Y) and Liu Min Ting (of Guardian fame). What a damn team. With their powers combined they are...

fine.

This is a fine BL. The fight scene was fun and I like the meet cute. I’m not sure about the chemistry of the leads, but I think they’ll probably do okay. I admit I’m struggling a bit with a singing and the music. Are you surprised? I think I like it enough, but I’m not wowed.

Takara's Treasure AKA Takara No Vidro (Japan Mon Gaga) ep 7 of 10 - Oh! Out of the blue attack kiss. What IS this show? I don’t get it at all. Bah. I guess they’re dating now. It’s… so odd...

It's airing but...

4 Minutes (Thai Netflix/Grey) - A rich boy at uni suddenly gains the supernatural power to see four minutes into the future. I have a source, but I've decided to hold off and binge if it ends okay, since it's only 8 eps. I depend upon y'all to tell me if it's safe.

8/16 The Last Time (Thai Fri YT) ? eps - Convoluted story of loss and possible reincarnation or something. Again delayed? Not sure what's going on with this one but the continued push-backs do not bode well.