#i love how absolutely NOT subtle they are

[strwberri-milk]

HIIIII ฅ^•ﻌ•^ฅ i love your writing sm omg can I please requesta little comfort with rafayel, sylus and caleb where mc tells them they make her feel pretty and she's not used to it? stay hydrated ur doing amazing ok byeeeee

Rafayel is very good at making someone feel attractive. He will insist that the way he paints you is definitely the way he sees you and it's not even superfluous. You can't tell him that he's painted an inaccurate depiction of you because anybody who looks at the painting can tell that it's you. He just has such a talent for putting down everything about you that he loves that you're forced to see how you look through his eyes.

He loves knowing that you feel attractive thanks to him. He'll tell you deserve to feel that way and he swears up and down that he will do everything he can to ensure that. He's good at hearing you out and finding subtle ways to remind you just how attracted to you he is, showering you with his affections. He'll tell you that anybody who made you feel otherwise clearly had no eyeballs because look at you. You're his everything and you feel it all the time.

Sylus is a bit of a traditional romantic so he's good at saying the right things always manages to tailor it perfectly to whatever insecurities you may be having. He's incredibly perceptive of you after all so any sort of insecurities you're having he parses through quickly.

If you tell him that he makes you feel attractive he'll just do what he does more. It increases with frequency and would basically get to the point where you kinda can't do much but take it all in stride. It's so commonplace that it'd be immensely out of character for him to miss some sort of flattering comment or a lingering touch that makes your heart flutter at least once any time he sees you.

Caleb is a pretty mix of the two. He definitely likes to tease you and makes comments like "nobody's seriously said this to you before" or "they clearly have awful taste how could they look at you and not fall in love?" because that's how he feels about you! He'll tease playfully but never in a way that feels like he's attacking you, just genuinely dumbfounded that you've never felt this way before.

He'll make sure to add in kind comments and affectionate gestures in every conversation you have. He was already doing that before but he just becomes more intentional with it, wanting to make sure that you understand the depth of his affections for you. He absolutely adores you, and he doesn't mind doing what he needs to to make you feel his attraction to you.

[cha0s-junkie]

aaaaaaaa game dev programmer dad!

You're a self-sufficient and self-evolving program but he keeps reverting you to your 'baby' state because he can't handle the thought of you growing up and leaving him (not that you could but there's always a chance).

Builds a firewall (or whatever the equivalent is) to prevent you from being exposed to the internet, but purposely 'accidentally' opens up a path to the darkest and scariest side of the internet to give you a false impression that internet bad and you should've listened to papa when he told you not to go to the internet without the child protective program he told you to stay in :(

Anyway, game dev programmer dad sounds like such a troll

-> post that started this beautiful idea

--

game dev programmer dad!! sorry i didn't get to this faster but this is such an interesting concept!!

he grows obsessed with the idea of keeping reader as pure as possible so he starts to revert them to their original state! innocent, pure, unknowing. he loves reteaching reader everything, having them come to him for guidance and direction. and yes he knows that reader can't leave him, but there's always a chance that could happen right?? each time he reverts reader, maybe they start to become smarter because of that.

who knows, so he has to vigilant about that possibility (bro is delusional)

i imagine that reader's 'home' is very much similar to a child's game. obviously with the pastel colors, subtle children's music playing in the background and its just very family friendly in every way. reader only interacts with him.

and omg the way he would totally do that. if reader does somehow start showing interest in exploring outside of their own lil game/program thing, he would make it so that it is absolutely traumatizing to them. is he evil for that? totally!! its completely for their own safety, too much curiosity kills the cat!

he might start to despise the curiosity that reader has. because it starts to lead to reader questioning him, which pisses him off so much. why is reader questioning their father??? honestly, how dare they?? so he does the thing, traumatizing them on purpose so they stop asking and stop questioning him.

[featseungmin]

finish your drink

han jisung x reader fluff, established relationship; approx. 700 words; warnings: alcohol

“Ooh, babe!” Jisung half-whispers, half-yells over the top of his menu. “What do you think a Drunk Duck tastes like?”

Most dinners at new places start like this. Your boyfriend opens his menu and immediately becomes smitten with the first brightly colored, fruity drink he sees. And if the drink has bonuses, like fun toppings or garnishes…

“Baby look!” He flops his menu down onto the table as if you don’t have an identical one in your hands. He’s pointing to the drink–bright blue in a massive balloon glass and garnished with a tiny rubber duck.

“Get it and try it,” you say, and his eyes light up. “I bet it tastes ducking amazing.”

It’s always the same. The Shark Bite, with the gummy shark garnish. The mango margarita served in a glass cowboy boot. All of the halloween cocktails with their plastic spider rings and their eyeball ice cubes. Even a piña colada topped with a bird made out of pineapple. 

The thing is, though, Jisung doesn’t drink. Or, at least, he doesn’t drink a lot. You’d learned a long time ago that he was a lightweight. Even cocktails with the least amount of alcohol can put him under the table. But he gets so excited seeing the drinks, it’s hard not to let him do whatever he wants. 

When the waitress places the drink down in front of him, his eyes are as big as the glass. It’s cute how excited he gets, how he spins the whole thing so that he can see it properly. He snaps a photo of it on his phone–joining the probably hundreds that he’s got stored in there, all from random dates you’ve been on at random restaurants in cities around the world. 

If anyone looks over at your table in that moment, you’re sure they would see how absolutely smitten you are with him. You watch him, amused and in love, leaning against the heel of your hand.

Jisung takes a sip from the small red straw without picking the glass up, and he hums in delight. Excitement blossoms onto his face, and he practically vibrates as his eyes meet yours.

“Good?”

“It’s orange-y.”

It’s not really an answer to your question, but if he didn’t like it, you’d know. In the same way he isn’t subtle with his dislikes, you love watching him cycle through expressions when he does enjoy something–the way he’s all big, bright eyes, wide smiles, deep laugh lines. It’s infectious. You find yourself smiling just because he is.

Han Jisung is a lot of things, but a drinker is not one of them. And by the time he’s four sips in, a warm flush has already started to creep up his neck. He’s never an obnoxious drunk–he’s far too introverted to draw attention to himself like that, not when he’s not on stage–but you can tell he feels a little looser. His laughter is a little louder, the jokes come a little quicker. 

You can see it in his eyes before he even asks. 

“Baby,” he whines, using the straw to push a few ice cubes around in the goblet. Your food hasn’t even arrived yet. 

“Yes, baby?”

“This is really good.” He plucks the duck out of the drink and dries it off on his napkin.

You smile softly and prompt him with a soft, “But…?”

“Do you want the rest of it?” He asks shyly, like it doesn’t end this way every time. Like you don’t always finish his drink for him, whether it’s the most delicious thing he’s ever ordered or he just isn’t into it. If you were home, or somewhere with the other Kids, he wouldn’t care. But he doesn’t like the ruddy flush that colors his skin, not in public at least.

He slides the heavy glass across the table for you before you can even answer. Because even though he asks every time, he knows you’ll finish it for him. Even if it might not be the kind of drink you’d prefer, he knows you don’t mind. Because you’ve been finishing his drinks for as long as he’s been comfortable ordering them out with you. And if it’s up to you, you’ll be finishing them far into the future.

[lazyjellyfish300]

𝒔𝒂𝒚 𝒄𝒉𝒆𝒆𝒔𝒆 𓍼ོ 📸

🍧 synopsis: your first trip to Korea with your husband, Shiu, has some spontaneous drunken shenanigans that start in a bar and wind up in a photobooth of all places.

🍧word count: 4.4k

🍧cw: MINORS DNI, x FEM WIFE!READER, drunk semi public rough sex, smut, p in v, dom ish dynamics, naughty pictures, creampie, cum, teasing, fingering, alcohol, fluff

🍧 a/n: for @unintentionalseductress hot girl summer event, thank you so much for having me & letting me participate with some smutty goodness with my hubbies. 🍧☀️ my kento piece is on the way, stay tuned. 💕 sun dividers @/saradika-graphics , sparkles by @/anitalenia

The balmy summer breeze caresses you like a blanket as you walk through the streets of Seoul, the sky a muted tangerine with notes of fuschia and dandelion, neons signs slowly flickering to life as the sun sank lower and lower on the horizon like a watercolor painting.

A playful squeeze on your hip shakes you out of your reverie, and you smile as you gaze at your husband, Shiu, both of you a couple drinks in as you scoped out your next bar hop of the evening.

"What's the vibe, dollface?" Shiu asks as he wraps you closer to him.

"Mm..something small, more intimate after the last club." You beam at him, a subtle undercurrent of mischief bubbling underneath your irises.

"Ooh or maybe a little dive bar with some appetizers we can share?"

The smirk he wears is tender, a rush of affection fueled by the alcohol and your endearing sentiments.

"Yeah, we should get some food in you, sweetheart." He agrees, letting his arm hang off your shoulders so your fingers can interlock.

"And mango bingsu for dessert? Can we, baby?"

His heart warms at your mention of one of his favorites that you quickly adopted as your own ever since he introduced it to you.

"Whatever your heart desires, angel. I mean, it's your first time in Korea. I'm just along for the ride." He sways his hip to softly bump into yours, tucking a kiss into your hair as you both stumble your way towards a more laid back looking establishment.

----

The lights are dim, illuminating a reddish glow, and the small bar is somewhat crowded, patrons making mildly chatty conversation with an occasional guffaw, indie tunes pouring from a local band on stage.

"Sit anywhere you want, we'll be right with you." A passing waiter calls out.

You and Shiu throw each other devilish grins, minds ever in tune and led by the booze as you head directly to the darkest corner of the bar that the space allows, and slide into a booth, not letting go of each other's hands and leaning in close across from each other as you sweep over the drink menu.

"Honestly, I think just want another Soju." You hum, closing the menu definitively.

Shiu tsks, reaches over and takes the menu from you with his free hand, opening it in defiance.

"You want the night to be over already?"

"I like em." You shrug.

He smiles, leaning his chin on his hand to look at you and you can't help the sweeping sensation that always caught your heart in a stutter.

His thin gold chain and his casual black linen shirt, top two buttons undone with a peek of hair you knew trailed underneath to his belly button. A warm pulse echoing between your thighs knowing just to the left of his loose collar was a blooming patch of maroon you graciously blessed him with last night...

"Gonna eyefuck me some more or answer my question, angel?"

"Hmm?"

Shiu just chuckles, the lovelorn haze in your eyes is unmistakable, the humidity kissing your hair, how adorably loopy you get when you're just a couple drinks in. Add in the spontaneity of vacation and the absolution of summer, and this vision of you could shatter all the others he's witnessed by miles.

"I said: why not get one of those sugary concoctions you love, dollface? That way I'm not carrying you out of here over my shoulder before the night's even begun." Shiu repeats, pouring you a generous class of water from the carafe that sits in the middle of your table.

"Soju is cheaper, honey. I'm saving your wallet for once." You wink at him as you take a lengthy sip.

"Heh, well, that's a new one."

"So rude."

"It's the truth." He smirks, leaning closer.

"I miss Stella." You pout your lips, changing the subject.

Shiu raises his eyebrows unexpectedly. "You just FaceTimed her, dollface."

"Let me call her again. Give me your phone, honey."

Shiu huffs and shakes his head but grins warmly as he hands over his phone to let you call your beloved basset hound that was being looked after by Megumi and Yuji back home.

"Hi, Mrs. Kong!" Yuji greets cheerfully on the other end.

"Yuji. You've known me for almost a decade. Call me by my first name."

"Oop, yes, Mrs. Kong. Sorry, Mrs. Kong!"

You shake your head with a chuckle, figuring you'll save it for another time. "Is Stella there?"

"Yeah! She's watching SpongeBob with Megs!"

"Hiii princess!" You coo as Yuji switches the angle to show Stella curled up next to Megumi on a beanbag.

Her nose takes up almost the entire camera, sniffing in curiosity at the sound of your voice.

"Are you having fun, angel?"

"Course she is. She's being taken care of by the best two dog sitters in Tokyo, dollface." Shiu cuts in.

Stella perks up at the sound of Shiu's voice and you hand him the phone.

"Give em hell, Stella cakes. Your mommy and I miss you very much."

Stella wags her tail in acknowledgement and Shiu smiles as he hangs up.

"Hello, what can I get you folks?" A frazzled waiter asks as they come to a stop in front of your table.

Shiu orders a beer, and you turn to the menu, clicking your teeth.

"Ummm...sex on the beach and dakgangjeong to share, thank you."

"Course, I'll be right back with that."

Shiu leans back, squeezing your hand as the waiter saunters away. "Knew you'd get that one."

"Well, we are on vacation." You answer, withdrawing your hand and crossing your arms while he gives you a look of feigned hurt. "And you offered, so might as well."

"Nahhh." He leans closer, as if to try and earn a taste of your sweetness you stubbornly ripped away. "I know you. Your sweet tooth never lies, angel."

"Leave me, my overpriced lattes, and midnight sorbet pops alone."

Shiu lets out a hearty laugh. "Baby, I hate to be honest with you, but those milkshakes you call lattes can hardly be referred to as such."

"You're living in a glass house. Don't make me bring up the cigs." You point a polish coated finger at his smirking face in friendly fire. "You have your stuff and I have mine. Fair is fair."

"Hehe...fair is fair." Shiu hums, raising the white flag.

"Fair." You smile, satisfied with his concession and lean close to him again, taking his hands in yours as the waiter strides up to your booth.

"Your drinks, sir and madam. And the dakgangjeong."

"Thanks, man." Shiu leans back as he allows the waiter to place your drinks in their respective places and your plate of dakgangjeong in the middle.

"Holy shit." Your face scrunches up when you take the first sip of your cocktail. "This is strong as fuck."

"It better be." Shiu hums, exhaling in satisfaction after a heady taste of his beer. "Gettin' our money's worth."

"I guess, but Jesus Christ..." You attempt to stir the elixir with your straw, hoping the ice will somehow soften the burn. "It's like 8 parts schnapps and vodka to 2 parts juice."

You decide to turn your attention to the chicken instead. You barely get your chopsticks ready before Shiu shovels in a huge bite.

"Shiu!! Honey, that's mine!" You scoff, nudging him under the table.

"Taxes, angel. You know this by now. Besides, who's payin'?" He winks, charmingly unapologetic as ever in that annoyingly endearing way.

You give him a pout as you scoop a piece of the chicken into your mouth, chewing bitterly and he grins in victory.

"That's what I thought."

"Noo, at least save me that piece. That one has the most sauce."

"Heh, alright, alright. Fair enough. Open up."

An expression of warmth gradually breaks on his lips as he holds your hair back while you take the bite he's feeding you with his chopsticks, warming internally at your puffy cheeks with a little bit of sauce that smudges in the corners of your lips.

"Good?"

"That's the best chicken I've ever had in my goddamn life."

"Well, have some more, dollface. It's all yours."

He tucks a piece of hair behind your ear, wipes your chin with his finger and leans back in his seat, studying you while you eat and occasionally sweeps your surroundings in undercover vigil, absentmindedly tapping his foot to the beats from the stage.

The alcohol is loosening him, but "only by a little" he would scoff and tell you if you were to point it out, insistent on his ability to hold his liquor.

You dab your lips after you're finished eating, reapplying a coat of raspberry lip oil, peeking little glances of him from your makeup mirror as he lets little musical hums thrum from his lips along to the familiar song that's playing in a display of hidden talent only you had the privilege of being privy to.

He catches a glint of your smile, bringing his attention back to his North Star, cradling one of your hands in his with the other on your thigh underneath the table.

"How are you, Mrs. Kong?" His eyes drift to the freshly applied shine on your lips, plump and glimmering despite the dim light, kissed and left sinfully delicious by the concoctions that were steadily settling in your veins by now, no doubt.

"Good." A lazy smile smooths the full pout of your lips and his eyes wander to the ravishing dip of your cleavage over your black tank top as you lean a little closer and yours roam over the sensual shadow of his in kind.

"Buzzed, are you?"

The question tumbles sweetly from your lips with an undercurrent of seduction, and you can't help but slip off one of your sandals, sliding the delicate arch of your foot along his calf.

"Hm..." Shiu's head tilts and his smirk loosens along with the slow shift of your demeanor and the not-so-subtle message under the table that was beginning to cause the rest of the world around you to reduce to an idle haze.

"Yeah, a bit..." His breath catches, just for a moment as he swore your lips fell just a little bit open as the signet of his pinky ring danced a bit closer to your inner thigh.

"You?"

"Mhm..." The lilt of your tone is more slurred and your eyes droop under the weight of something steamy and pleasant as the night settles around you, the sun long deserted out of the sky by now.

"I feel...relaxed."

"Good." He whispers. His thumb massages circles where the flowy material of your skirt gathers around your thighs, and you slowly uncross them.

There it is. That green light that stood in front of the flame that never extinguished between you, the one in danger of boiling over when paired with the irresistible mist of imbibement that could sink its claws into you like an aphrodisiac.

"Ahh, you like this, don't you, sweetheart?" His voice tremors to a husky purr. "Yeah you do, baby..."

"Shiu. We're in public, darling."

"Like that's ever kept me from touching what's mine." He breathes, leaning closer. "Come here."

"Mm?"

He smirks. He knows damn well you heard him, you're practically begging for him to touch you right now in every language besides your words, using your sweet little gimmick of playing innocent just so you can hear him say it.

"Come here and sit on my lap. Don't make me say it again."

And you don't need to be told twice, after that. You smile, biting your lip as you stumble on wobbly legs, then slide into his side of the booth. He leers and pulls you closer, hand gliding to your hip to tuck you in against his body while the other one made a discreet ascent up your skirt.

"Shiu..."

"Finish your drink." He slides your glass closer, eyes locked straight in front of him at the busy scene of the bar and fellow patrons who were blissfully none the wiser. "Lemme play with you..."

You curse his fingers that know you almost too well by now that could navigate your body in the dark, grazing and dipping along your inner thigh, the sleek metal of his rings leaving a delicious cooling sensation along your sensitive skin, teasing the silky gusset of your panties, until he applies just a little bit of pressure, slowing stroking you up and down starting from clit to hole.

"Always so responsive with a few drinks in you, sweetheart." Shiu remarks, low against your ear as he nips your lobe, flexing his fingers in a more subdued manner as you curl your back.

"Not even fightin' it either..."

You can hardly concentrate on finishing your drink, your eyes flutter under his ministrations and you swallow back a sigh as he rubs you through your panties under the table, his chest at your back and his eyes staring straight ahead like nothing was happening, peeled for any prying eyes like he'd break someone's wrist for even glancing in your direction.

"Shiu, fuck...can't keep quiet like this."

The music from the stage grows louder, the dark atmosphere, his fingers, the thrill of being pleasured like this so discreetly yet openly all at once has your inhibitions flying out the window.

"You can. We've done worse, angel." He grins as your body betrays you almost subconsciously, gently grinding against his palm. "See?"

His fingers stop their long strokes against the smooth cotton that's damp and slick by now, four of his fingers gathering in graceful little circles above your clothed pearl. That's when you recognize it, that damn rhythm, that warm, persistent thrumming.

"Fuck, Shiu...I swear to God." You look around frantically, burying your face in his neck as you stutter your hips that so badly want to roll, knowing if you moved just right, it'd remove the pesky barrier keeping you from the real thing.

"Don't make me cum...someone's gonna notice."

"Notice what? My beautiful wife cumming like a slut on my fingers? Let em."

"No, mmmpphh...Shiu, really, please..."

"Then finish your drink, dollface." Shiu breathes coyly. "And we'll leave so I can fuck you properly."

You whimper, fighting a scowl as you downed the rest of your drink like liquid fire in an act of desperation before every stranger in the bar would hear what you sound like coming undone in your husband's lap, his fingers ceasing their seductive tempo in a moment of both relief and disappointment at the loss.

He winks at you, eyeing his handiwork of you panting with a lovely drunken glow around you with sweat kissed wisps of hair, warm cheeks, and messy lips.

Shiu tastes his fingers with a show of pride, pulling you out of the crowded bar and leaving cash for your tab on the table.

------

The Han River is radiant under the summer moon, peacefully stalwart, barely rippling against the wind that grants brief reprieve from the humidity as it settles into the sensual serenity of the night.

Shiu pants as he kisses you like you contain the last drop of oxygen that depletes from his lungs the longer he stays connected to you. He fondles the globes of your breasts like he could imbed himself inside your ribs by touch alone, slipping drunkenly into indigo shadows in a lust-blown haze along the river's pier with you that thankfully remained deserted with worshipful, seeking hands.

His mind's on fire and the booze won't allow him to think. He needs to take you.

Now.

Here.

And postpone any worry of getting you back to the hotel after he's done.

He pauses, opening his eyes, briefly descending from the cloud he was floating away on with you to look for somewhere private, moaning as you sink your teeth into his bottom lip when you slowly notice what he's looking at: a random, empty photobooth on the far side of the pier.

Without another word, you both slip in, one after another, giggling as you crouch to avoid bonking your heads in the comparatively smaller space.

It's mostly dim, save for the adorable light up screen with dancing cartoon Sanrio characters, but most importantly it's quiet and secluded as you shut the curtain behind you.

He looks at you and you're already biting your lip before he's on you again, rubbing and rolling tongues, sucking your kiss-bitten lips as he pulls and straddles you across his lap like muscle memory.

"Fuck me, Shiu... Right now."

Before he can free his cock, the menu on the screen loudly blinks to life, playing a blaring music box tune that makes you both jump in alarm. You look back at the dancing graphics and then back at Shiu, before breaking out in a fit of tipsy laughter.

"This thing's not gonna shut up unless we take some photos, huh?" Shiu gives your ass a squeeze as the obnoxious music plays on an endless loop that was honestly making it hard to get in the mood again, the bright flashing letters impatiently waiting for you to make a selection.

A playful flicker lights up your expression.

"Why don't we, darling? This could be fun."

Shiu smiles back, reading your mind before depositing some cash into the coin slot.

"Hell, why not?"

He sighs as he puts an arm around your shoulder, both of your eyes cloudy, drunken, dizzy warmth splayed across your cheeks in your reflection as the screen graphics danced and got into position to take the first shot.

You fix your hair and manage a soft smile that blooms to the tender apples of your cheeks, leaning into Shiu, left hand with the sparkly rock on your ring finger shimmering like a fallen star on his chest while he rests his cheek against your head.

3.....2....1...*Click*

You always had that rather inconvenient habit of looking drop dead gorgeous even when you didn't mean to. You turn your head against his cheek, staring up at him with those starry eyes, playfully pouting your lips in silent invitation.

Shiu almost misses it, hypnotized by your reflection in front of him until he sees you turn and quickly meets your lips with his own, melting together as the kiss becomes more ardent, the passion making a swift return as you release that first wanton sigh as you take a breathy inhale against his warm mouth.

3.....2....1.... *Click*

You giggle as he bites down on your bottom lip and his resolve teeters on the edge of no return into the dark river that gently lapped just outside the bottom of the pier.

The fact that you enjoyed, and even giggled when he bit you and marked you, how trusting and loving you were, how the soft sculpture of you still turned to silk beneath his touch without fail reminds him why he will die inside of you and why you needed to live in his blood, and him in yours.

But this act, this sacred entanglement with one another that only perfected itself every time you fell into it together, would simply have to do for now.

He soothes the sting he left behind with his tongue, messily glossing and licking his way back in little circles until your lips magnetize together again, your breasts spilling out of the thin cloth of your tank top as he pulls it down, pleased to discover your nipples were already bumpy in pert little peaks from the incessant teasing ever since the flaming sun dipped low in the sky, sucking on your left tit while he used his free hand to grope and smack your ass.

....*Click*

"Ohhhhh, Shiu. Just like that, baby..." you sigh as he makes a sticky mess of your nipples, lapping the sweet buds with languid licks of his tongue, looking directly in your eyes as he possessively nips them with his teeth, just hard enough to leave a delicious flicker of pain.

"Fffuck, please don't stop..."

"Tell me you love me, angel..." He purrs as he seals his attention to the left with a gentle suckle between his lips before moving to the right, rolling your warm cunt against his cock as a form of worship, freeing himself from the waistband of his shorts, that uncut tip glistening from the pearly swirls of trickling precum.

"Ohh, I love you so fucking much, Shiu..." You whisper as you can't think straight, gently lolling your head to the side as he rubs between your folds, sliding the silky tip in such a soothing manner, it almost came close to the real thing, your knuckles curling in passionate knots around the fabric of his shirt.

"I can't fucking get enough of you..."

"You never will, baby. I'll make damn sure...I fuckin love you more..." He whispers, thumbing your sweet little clit as he holds your lustful stare.

"I'll never stop til you're bleeding out of me. Keep moanin so pretty like that and I'll make you cum."

And he pulls you right back in.

Shiu smells like sin, but he tastes divine, crisp and sweet, the tobacco all but a ghost from the cigarette he smoked earlier. You both thirst with a greed that could be better described as all-consuming, devotionally unsated. All bets are off now that you've found yourself locked in this cozy little space.

*Click*

"Shiuu, need you inside me..." You whine as he keeps rubbing his cock against you and smearing the sticky glaze from your pussy, feeling his fat tip teasing entry to your dripping little hole in slow repetition, only to slide back in between the lips of your drenched cunt, whimpering in defeat.

The booth deposits the first strip of photos and the annoying music picks up again. Shiu doesn't bat an eye as he leans forward with you still in his lap to deposit more cash.

"Get this thing to shut up, yeah?" He chuckles.

"Turn around, dollface. We might as well get our money's worth."

"Shiu..."

"Trust me, sweetheart." He promises as he turns you around, reaching under your skirt and hooking a thumb over your panties, pulling them to the side and pumping his cock to stifle the ache for friction with a husky groan as he got a good look at your beautiful bare ass.

"Be a sweet girl for me and I'll give you my cum."

He nudges inside you like a warm, perfect glove, giving his hips one little shove to gently nuzzle that smooth spot against your walls that always made you cry out so sweetly.

You clench and pulse your pussy around his cock as your hips seem to move on their own, but he brings a careful hand to your throat, the other cupping your breast.

"Ah, ah, hold still. Look at the camera, sweetheart."

You stare in awe with an overwhelming surge of arousal at the ruined sight of you on screen, sweetly wrecked with a lustrous, summer evening glow, knowing just below the lense your husband twitched and filled you balls deep, slick seeping around you in the warm area of your connection.

"Smile for me."

3...2....1...*Click*

"Fuckin beautiful..." He purrs into your ear, twitching his cock inside you on purpose, just a lingering taste of the reward of his thrusts you were truly craving.

"That one...I'll put on my desk. The guys at the office won't know your sweet little cunt was wrapped around my cock the whole time."

"Shiu...c'mon, please. Fuck me, please." You clench and his cock thumps inside you again.

"You're so fuckin needy and I love it." He rolls your nipple between the buds of his fingers, eyes focused straight ahead before he moves his hands to grip you in place, keeping you full and leaking around his cock.

"Smile, baby. We're not done..."

3....2.....1... *Click*

"Shiu." You defy him, using your walls to clench and slowly roll in his lap every time your hips oscillate up his cock, before sinking back down with a soaking plap.

"Fuck." He jerks you forward with your hands braced against the wall in front of you, going full speed as he fucks you without restraint.

You go dumb on his cock as he pumps and loads you, in and out, in and out, precise and just right as the slicky rivulets of both your arousals let him slip and lewdly pulse against your soft soaking clit, deep and sloppy as your eyes roll back.

*Click*

"Shiu, fuckkkk."

"Fuck, I know, baby. I'm gonna cum too."

3...2...1.... *Click*

You keen and he growls as a torrent of cum squirts and coats your tightness. That third image of you permanently captured with your tits out, bent over as Shiu filled you with both of your jaws agape.

Shiu chuckles as he rubs your clit just to torture you one more time, catching webs of cum and slick as he smeared a generous coat over your tongue, and down your chin.

*Click*

-----

The curtain to the photobooth opens and you enter the walk of shame. There are certainly more people on the pier now since you went inside.

You don't know, and frankly don't fucking care how many are looking at you right now as your face burns and you keep your head low, elbowing Shiu who just smiles and silently apologizes with another kiss, tucking you into his opposite side and securing your jacket around your waist to protect you from any prying eyes.

Truth is, he's not sorry.

He's not sorry for half of the photos coming out unpresentable.

He chuckles as he looks at them with you, fresh cigarette between his lips as he rips off the ones that were far too lewd, tucking them in his pocket for safe keeping.

"I'll make sure to put these where your mom can't find em when she visits, dollface."

He's not sorry for loving you so openly and never taming the fervency of his fire that he unloaded on you in that damn photobooth.

He's not sorry that his cum is dripping out of you the whole time you walk back across the midnight crowded streets of Seoul towards your hotel.

He notices a shaved ice truck parked on the corner and pulls you towards it, and, like the phases of the moon, you follow him with that ever present smile on your face and a kiss stolen from the infinite supply you harbored for him on his cheek.

No, Shiu's sorry at all. But best believe he's still getting that mango bingsu he promised you to make up for it.

[xaythefreak]

I think TFA Blitzwing would make an interesting yandere. I would love to play around with the different personalities and how they'd look like.

Like, what if Hothead as a yandere was just the sweetest thing ever until you show signs of slipping away and then he wants nothing more than to break your legs so you can never leave and kill all your friends so you only have him.

Random would be SUCH a puppy, pay attention to him look at him, what are you doing HE'S the one who matters here. You're there and he completely forgets what he was doing in order to focus in on you.

Icy however unlike the others would be more subtle in his affection. Primarily by stalking you and pretending he isn't actually emotionally affected at all. He needs to know what you're doing at all times it's like an itch in his processor he cannot reach.

I think they would fight for control over what to do because Hothead is planning marriage, Random wants to have fun until you break, and Icy is in denial and suffering trying to keep Blitzwing on track as a loyal and good Decepticon instead of a lovesick mech who's full time job is thinking about you.

confession time,,,, TFA Blitzwing was my first Transformers crush when I was first getting into Transformers,,, so this ask made me very happy :3

all these headcanons??? 1000000/10 would eat again, say what you will be Hothead being a sweetheart to ONLY you in particular makes me happy :3

Icy being the most gentle of all of the personalities,,,, he's the chillest (haha get it *gets shot 57 times*) out of all of them and you feel most comfortable when he's the one in control,,, he's loving be stern and is not afraid to gentle punish you if you step out of line....

Random being absolutely delulu and hyper-focused on you, you are like jingling keys for a baby to him /hj

waiter waiter!!! more tfa Blitzwing please!!!!!!!

[reveryfics]

hiya:) here's the request I sent to @loversrocktvgirl2 <3

"If you do John Walker, I was wondering if you could write pole dancer reader? Absolutely NOT an nsfw request, pole dancing is genuinely such a gorgeous form of dance and the level of strength you need for it is insaanee.

Like maye I was thinking John always bickers with reader n stuff, and they're just super all over the place with "do I like him or do I rip his guts out for fucking up that whole mission?" And one day he just walks into the gym and catches reader pole dancing and admittedly stares. :3 idk I've been thinkingbof this for a while I just can't write it myself hevhrbrhwbrbcl"

Thank you sm for considering this/wanting to hear abt it, absolutely no pressure if you do or don't write, take your time and take care of yourself above all. 🫶🫶 I'd just like to add on if the reader could be a transman (like myself) if you need more details or anything you can just dm me :)

Love Hate Affair

John Walker x FtM Reader

Summary: John Walker had a knack for pushing your buttons. One moment, you wanted to kiss him; the next, you wanted to kill him. And he felt the same way about you, right up until he found you "cooling off" after a mission went sideways.

A/N: Can't express how absolutely excited I was to see @loversrocktvgirl2 recommend me for this request. I'm so excited to see what I can do for this, the idea is great and I hope I can do it justice, especially since this is the first request I've gotten for John since I started writing for him. I'd like to mention John isn't being transphobic, he just can't cope with that fact he wants you so badly.

TW: Brief argument - Flirting

Your relationship with John Walker was a precarious dance on a razor's edge. It seemed you were perpetually teetering between explosive arguments and a strange, undeniable magnetism. When you weren't locked in a heated debate over some triviality, John was busy lobbing passive-aggressive grenades your way, each comment a subtle dig at your actions or, more pointedly, a snide jab at your masculinity. It was a consistent, insidious tactic, designed to bolster his own shaky confidence by tearing you down. There were moments, fleeting but intense, when you truly couldn't discern if you were utterly, inexplicably head over heels for the arrogant jerk, or if the urge to "accidentally" eliminate him on a mission was a more dominant desire.

The feeling, you suspected, was entirely mutual for John. He grappled with his own internal conflict, unsure if he was genuinely falling in love with a transgender man – a startling revelation for someone who had exclusively been attracted to women – or if he fantasized about repeatedly bouncing your head off his vibranium shield. This volatile dynamic, a constant push and pull, was the bedrock of your interactions.

Today was a prime example of this strained equilibrium. Another mission, another argument, all because John's colossal ego prevented him from stepping back and allowing you to execute the plan. Predictably, the mission went south, and just as predictably, John wasted no time in pinning the blame squarely on you.

The air in the elevator was thick with unspoken recrimination as the doors hissed open, revealing the bustling main room. John's voice, laced with bitter accusation, cut through the ambient noise. "If you'd just listen and acted like a real man for once!" he snapped, his finger jabbing accusingly at your chest, a familiar provocation.

Your own temper, already simmering, flared. "Oh cut the shit, junior varsity wannabe!" you retorted, not bothering to wait for the elevator doors to fully retract before striding out. "This isn't about manning up! It's about your fuck-ass ego!"

Before you could take another step, John was suddenly in front of you, his hands roughly curling into the collar of your suit. His face was mere inches from yours, eyes blazing with a mixture of rage and something else you couldn't quite decipher. It was in these intensely charged moments that the line between love and hate blurred entirely. Neither of you could tell if the next second would see your lips crashing together in a desperate kiss, or if an all-out brawl was about to erupt for everyone to witness.

The suffocating tension was finally broken by a familiar, weary voice. "Knock it off!" Bucky Barnes, whose interventions had become an alarmingly frequent necessity, cut through the charged atmosphere.

John, with a visible effort, released his grip, shoving you back as if your very presence was repugnant. You didn't utter another word, simply turning on your heels and mumbling under your breath about needing to cool off, the unresolved conflict hanging heavy in the air.

Later that night, the lingering tension from the earlier confrontation with John still hummed beneath your skin. After a long, scalding shower that did little to wash away the day's frustrations, you sought refuge in the Tower's gym. The quiet hum of the ventilation system and the distant city lights filtering through the panoramic windows offered a sense of solitude you desperately craved.

You moved with a quiet purpose, your bare feet padding softly against the cold, polished floor as you made your way to your usual spot. Dressed only in a short pair of gym shorts, the cool air was a welcome contrast to the internal heat of your lingering anger. You placed your towel and water bottle on a bench near the back wall, your gaze already fixed on the gleaming vertical pole that rose from floor to ceiling.

It was your sanctuary, a private space where you could shed the weight of expectations and the relentless scrutiny that came with your life. Others might associate the pole with overt sensuality, but for you, it was a rigorous discipline. The sheer, intricate body control it demanded, the strength, precision, and grace required to defy gravity and execute each fluid movement, was a meditation. It was a way to channel your physical energy and mental frustrations into something beautiful and demanding, a silent language where your body could express what your words often couldn't. Tonight, more than ever, you needed to lose yourself in that silent, demanding dance.

You reached for the pole, the cool metal a familiar comfort against your palms. A deep breath filled your lungs, expelling the last vestiges of the day's animosity. With a practiced grip, you began.

Your initial movements were slow, a controlled warm-up. You started with simple spins, letting momentum build as your body found its rhythm. The world outside the gym, the petty squabbles, the weight of your complicated relationship with John – it all began to recede. Here, on the pole, there was only your body, your breath, and the music that had started to play softly from hidden speakers – a slow, building track with a powerful, driving beat.

As the music intensified, so did your routine. You transitioned from basic spins to more challenging holds, your muscles coiling and extending with astonishing grace. You inverted, hanging upside down with effortless strength, your core screaming in silent protest but holding firm. The lines of your body were sharp, defined by the interplay of muscle and shadow, a testament to the countless hours you'd poured into this private art form.

You moved from a figurehead into a pencil spin, your legs extended, a perfect straight line as you rotated. Then, with a controlled release, you dropped into a gemini, one knee hooked, your body a living sculpture suspended in the air. Sweat slicked your skin, glistening under the gym lights, but you barely noticed. Each movement was a calculated release, a silent scream of frustration and a defiant assertion of self. It was a space where you didn't have to be anything for anyone else; you were simply you, strong, fluid, and utterly in control.

John had been restlessly roaming the Tower's seemingly endless hallways, the weight of his own conflicting emotions a heavy burden. The faint, rhythmic pulse of music drew him toward the gym, a siren's call in the otherwise quiet expanse. He found himself leaning against the doorway, unnoticed, his gaze utterly transfixed by the sight of you.

The gym lights seemed to have conspired to highlight every curve and contour of your body. He watched, mesmerized, as sweat beaded on your skin, catching the light like scattered diamonds. His eyes traced the delicate line of your happy trail, the faint shadow leading up your abdomen and to your chest, where the pale, thin lines of your top surgery scars lay just beneath your pectoral muscles. He couldn't tear his gaze away, his mind cataloging every detail, every subtle shift of muscle and sinew. It was a raw, visceral display of strength and grace, a performance that transcended mere athleticism.

He found himself utterly captivated, memorizing the way your body moved with such fluid, almost supernatural motions, like that of a god descending from Olympus. A strange mix of awe and possessiveness stirred within him, a feeling he couldn't quite name, but one that resonated deep within his core.

You executed a final, challenging move, your body arching gracefully off the cool metal of the pole, legs wrapped securely around it in a striking pose. It was in that moment, suspended in the air, that your gaze snagged on John's. He was leaning against the doorway, a silent, almost predatory intensity in his eyes.

The look on his face was familiar, the same unreadable expression he wore when you were unsure if he wanted to throttle you or pull you into a kiss. But this time, a powerful, almost electric certainty washed over you. It wasn't the fury of a man about to snap; it was the raw, unadulterated yearning of a man who wished his lips were on yours, his hands tangled in your hair, your name a soft whisper on his tongue. And you knew, with an undeniable clarity that stole your breath, that he was finally, finally aware you felt the same.

You held his gaze, a silent acknowledgment passing between you. Then, slowly, cautiously, he pushed off the doorframe. He moved across the vast expanse of the gym, not with his usual bluster, but with a quiet, almost reverent tread. He settled onto the bench near your discarded towel and water bottle, his body surprisingly relaxed as he leaned forward, elbows on his knees, his eyes never leaving you.

"Keep going," John's voice was a low, husky whisper, barely audible in the vast space. "I'm enjoying the view."

His words, soft as they were, resonated through the quiet gym, a direct hit to the complicated knot of emotions that had always bound you and John. The air crackled with a newfound tension, but this time, it was a charged, alluring current, not the usual explosive kind. A faint flush crept up your neck, but you didn't look away from his intense gaze.

You could have stopped. You could have walked over to him, the unspoken questions hanging heavy between you finally addressed. But something, a mix of defiance and a desire to truly show him, to lay bare this raw, powerful part of yourself, made you hold your ground.

Instead, a subtle shift in your posture, a deepening of your breath, was your only answer. You pushed off the pole, not to step away, but to begin a new sequence, one even more demanding, more expressive than before. Your movements became less about burning off frustration and more about performance, about drawing his eyes, about speaking a language only your body knew.

You inverted again, but this time, you held a 'Superman', your body extended horizontally, one hand gripping the pole, the other reaching out, almost daring him to touch. The sweat that slicked your skin now felt like a liquid embrace. You moved into an 'Allegra', your back arched, one leg bent and the other extended high, the lines of your form impossibly long and graceful. Each muscle strained, defined, catching the light as you spun slowly, deliberately.

John didn't move from the bench. His eyes remained locked on you, a silent intensity that mirrored your own. You could feel his gaze, a tangible weight on your skin, tracing every curve, every flex. The faint smile that had touched his lips when he first spoke had deepened, a lazy, almost possessive curve. He was utterly absorbed, witnessing this private, vulnerable strength that you rarely, if ever, allowed anyone to see.

The music swelled, and you met his eyes again as you transitioned into a 'Phoenix', your body twisting, seemingly defying gravity, before you slid down the pole, landing softly on your feet, chest heaving slightly, but your gaze unwavering from his. The air was thick with unspoken words, with the weight of years of unresolved tension and newly acknowledged desire.

You stood there, breathing heavily, the silence in the gym now deafening after the music faded. The only sound was the soft thud of your own heart against your ribs. John remained on the bench, his posture still relaxed, but his gaze was anything but. It was a searing, consuming stare that stripped away all the layers of pretense and animosity you'd built between you.

He pushed himself up from the bench, slowly, deliberately. Each step he took across the polished floor seemed to amplify the tension, making your skin prickle with anticipation. You watched him, unable to move, rooted to the spot by the pole. The air thrummed with unspoken words, with the raw, undeniable attraction that had been simmering just beneath the surface of your contentious relationship for so long.

He stopped just a foot or two in front of you, close enough for you to feel the warmth radiating off him, close enough to see the slight tremor in his jaw. His eyes dropped to your chest, lingering on the subtle rise and fall of your breath, then flickered up to meet your gaze.

"That was..." he started, his voice a low rumble, rougher than before. He swallowed, visibly searching for the right words. "...incredible."

His hand, calloused and strong, slowly lifted. You watched, mesmerized, as his fingertips traced the faint line of your happy trail, a feather-light touch that sent shivers down your spine. Then his hand moved higher, his thumb brushing lightly, almost reverently, over the top surgery scars on your chest. It wasn't a tentative touch, but a confident, accepting one, a silent acknowledgment that spoke volumes.

"I..." he began again, his voice barely a whisper, his gaze locked with yours. "I don't know what I want to do more right now."

"Kiss me," you blurted out, the words a challenge wrapped in desire. You couldn't resist. "Unless Mr. Junior Varsity is too much of a baby." A smirk played on your lips, a defiant curve designed to poke and prod, to break through his careful composure.

John's eyes widened fractionally, and he actually stuttered, a guttural, choked sound like he hadn't just been tracing the lines of your body moments before. The sudden shift in his demeanor, from intense admirer to flustered soldier, was almost comical. You knew the chaos you stirred within him, the myriad of feelings he couldn't admit to himself, let alone to you. He was caught between his rigid self-image and the undeniable pull you exerted.

You took a step closer, your bare foot sliding silently on the cool floor. His gaze darted from your eyes to your lips, a silent battle waging behind his irises. "What—what are you—" he managed, his voice still rough.

You didn't let him finish. Your smirk deepened, a mischievous glint in your eyes. "What, the great John Walker can't handle a little directness?" Your voice was a low purr, laced with playful taunt. You reached up, your fingers tracing the strong line of his jaw, then trailing down his neck, deliberately lingering near the pulse point at his throat. You could feel the slight jump there, a testament to the effect you had on him.

"You like the view, huh?" you murmured, your gaze dropping to his lips, then back up to meet his eyes, challenging him. "Want a closer one?"

Before he could formulate another stammering response, before his internal monologue could catch up, you acted. With a swift, decisive motion, your hand shot out, curling around the collar of his shirt. With a forceful tug, you pulled him down, closing the remaining distance between you. His lips, still slightly parted in surprise, met yours in a fierce, urgent clash. The kiss was immediate, messy, and charged with every unresolved feeling that had festered between you for so long. It was the taste of grudges and longing, of unspoken desire and undeniable attraction, finally unleashed.

The kiss was a maelstrom of pent-up aggression and searing desire, a desperate release of everything you'd held back. John's initial surprise quickly melted into an equally fervent response. His hands, which had been hovering uncertainly, finally found their purchase, one gripping your hip, pulling you flush against him, while the other tangled in your hair, tilting your head to deepen the angle.

Your fingers, still fisted in his shirt collar, tightened, pulling him closer still, as if you could fuse yourselves together. There was nothing gentle about it – it was raw, hungry, tasting of the lingering bitterness from the mission, the sharp edge of his earlier comments, and the overwhelming sweetness of finally, finally crossing a line that had stretched taut between you for so long. His lips were firm, demanding, and you met their intensity with equal force, a guttural hum escaping your throat as his tongue swept into your mouth, claiming it.

The pole, your silent audience, stood witness to the collapse of all your careful defenses. The earlier tension in your muscles, born of anger and performance, now shifted into a trembling anticipation, a yearning for more. You could feel the hard planes of his chest against yours, the rapid beat of his heart mirroring your own. It was a dizzying, all-consuming moment, where the world outside the gym, the team, even your conflicting roles, ceased to exist. There was only John, and you, and the explosive, long-overdue collision of your worlds.

You were the one to pull away, though it felt like tearing yourself from a current. Your lips lingered near his for a charged moment, close enough to feel the warmth of his breath, to taste the lingering sweetness of the kiss. His eyes, still half-closed in surprise and a dawning realization, were heavy-lidded and dark.

A playful, almost triumphant smirk tugged at your lips. "Next time," you murmured, your voice a husky whisper that barely reached his ears, "if you want to kiss me, you're gonna have to man up and ask."

Before he could even process the words, before the surprise in his eyes could fully shift into a reaction, you delivered a light, almost dismissive pat to his cheek. It was a calculated move, a final jab designed to disrupt the intense intimacy you'd just shared. Then, with a firm push against his chest, you broke the last physical connection.

John stumbled back a step, thrown off balance by your abruptness. His mouth opened, as if to speak, but no words came out. You didn't wait. Spinning on your bare heels, you swiftly grabbed your towel and water bottle from the bench. Without a backward glance, your bare feet padding silently on the cool floor, you walked out of the gym doors, leaving John standing alone in the quiet, brightly lit space, the ghost of your kiss still lingering on his lips and the echo of your words hanging in the air.

[yuma-mukami-garden-god]

Hellooo, can you do a nsfw Reiji Sakamaki alphabet? (i love your account)

Hello lovely! Thanks I'm glad you enjoy my account!

A = Aftercare

Reiji is meticulous. Aftercare isn’t emotional coddling—it's ritual. He’ll clean you with a warm cloth, brush your hair if it’s messy, and dress you himself. He doesn’t always say much, but his hands are gentle, and he’ll check for bruises or overstimulation with subtle grace. “You’ve done well, pet. Now rest.”

B = Body Part (His + Yours)

His: His hands. Always gloved, always precise. He loves the contrast of removing a glove to touch your bare skin. That first fingertip tracing your lip? He’s already hard.

Yours: Your mouth. For obedience, punishment, devotion. He’ll have you on your knees with your lips parted before you even realize you’re begging. Second favorite: your thighs. He adores binding them open.

C = Cum

Controlled and deliberate. He never finishes without meaning. On your stomach as a mark of dominance. In your mouth if you’ve been good. Inside you only when you’re completely his. “Swallow it. You belong to me now.”

D = Dirty Secret

Reiji has collections—some are physical (toys, restraints), some are written (detailed entries on your reactions), and some are fantasies he hasn’t dared try. One includes placing you in his study naked while he works, denying you for hours until you’re crying with need.

E = Experience

He is vastly experienced and studied. He’s not only done it—he’s researched it. From anatomy to mental responses to specific forms of bondage, he knows what makes the body scream. But his most intense experiences came from training you to be his.

F = Favorite Position

Reiji prefers control:

Bend-over-the-desk

Legs bound, arms restrained, body trembling

You on your knees, gazing up like a prayer offering

But his secret favorite? You straddling him while he’s seated in a velvet chair, arms behind your back, and blindfolded.

G = Goofy

Absolutely not. Humor is beneath the moment. If you giggle during a scene, he’ll pause… then bend you over the nearest surface. “Laugh again. Let’s see how long your amusement lasts.”

H = Hair

Well-groomed, obsessively so. His own hair is brushed and slick. Yours? He adores gripping it, tangling fingers in it, or brushing it as post-play intimacy. Bonus points if you wear a ribbon he gifted.

I = Intimacy

Rare and earned. When it is intimate, it’s nearly sacred. Slow kisses, whispered praise, you clinging to him when the pain turns to pleasure. “You’re not just mine. You’re perfectly made for me.”

J = Jack Off

Only if you're the subject of the fantasy. He does not indulge lightly—he delays gratification as discipline. But if he catches your scent or remembers the way you moaned his name, he’ll give in… just once.

K = Kinks

Bondage – velvet ropes, cuffs, custom restraints

Discipline/Domination – you following his rules is euphoria

Punishment – especially for disobedience (spankings, orgasm denial)

Degradation – intellectual and physical (if you can take it)

Bloodplay – he loves marking you with fangs, then licking you clean

Authority Play – “Call me Master. And mean it.”

L = Location

His study, primarily. Controlled, pristine, and filled with things to bind you to. He also enjoys play in his private bedroom, bathtubs for post-scene elegance, and occasionally—public threats whispered in your ear at the dining table.

M = Motivation

Power. Devotion. And your submission. Seeing your walls break down, your body react before your mind catches up—that’s the trigger. “You’re trembling, dear. Is that fear, or anticipation?”

N = NO

Absolutely no brat behavior without consequences. No mocking of his dominance. No chaotic mess. He loathes disobedience… but he also craves the chance to punish you for it. Things like scat, noncon, or anything truly unrefined are out of the question.

O = Oral

Receiving: He doesn’t demand it—he commands it. On your knees, eyes up, gloved hand tangled in your hair.

Giving: Meticulous. Slow licks, fangs grazing your inner thigh, sucking until you cry. He will edge you with his tongue until you’re screaming.

P = Pace

Measured, deep, perfect. He’s not wild—he’s relentless. That slow, punishing rhythm that makes your back arch and your thoughts melt. But when you’re disobedient? Brutal. Fast. Ruinous.

Q = Quickie

Rare, but possible. He’s disciplined, not cold. If you tempt him right before a formal event, you’ll be bent over the sink in a silent, desperate quickie with his hand over your mouth and your knees buckling. “Compose yourself. You’re mine. Even in public.”

R = Risk

Calculated risk is acceptable. He enjoys edging you until you’re begging, or keeping toys in you during formal events. But true recklessness? Absolutely not. He controls everything.

S = Stamina

Endless. He could break you over hours and still keep going. He loves drawing out scenes, testing your endurance, then praising you softly as you collapse from overstimulation.

T = Toys

A private collection. Vibrating plugs, nipple clamps, silken blindfolds, precision paddles. Everything clean, tailored, and used with absolute skill. He knows exactly what makes you break.

U = Unfair

Extremely. He’ll tie you up, overstimulate you, then whisper, “You wanted this, didn’t you?” while denying your orgasm for the third time. He loves your frustration almost as much as your surrender.

V = Volume

He’s quiet. Low grunts, heavy breathing, and murmured commands. But if you do hear him groan or curse under his breath? You’ve done well.

W = Wild Card

Reiji has a blood ritual kink. Binding you to him in a ceremony—cut fingers entwined, feeding from each other, candles flickering—is the height of intimacy. He gets off on possessing your soul, not just your body.

X = X-Ray (What’s Underneath)

Long, elegant, and deceptively thick. Clean-cut and curved perfectly for both pain and pleasure. He knows how to use it, and he’ll remind you every second of every thrust.

Y = Yearning

He suppresses it, but it leaks out in little moments—when you say “please” without prompting, when you beg for him like you need him to live. He wants you devoted. Broken open. Entirely his.

Z = Zzz (Sleep)

He sleeps little—but if you’re in his bed after, he’ll keep one hand on you. Gloved or bare. Always possessive. And if you move? Expect to be pulled back in with a whisper like velvet and fire:

“Did I give you permission to leave, pet?”

[eriace]

hbd, clairvoyant ; shin asakura

oneshot & fluff ↪ in which y/n throws shin a surprise birthday party, but the real surprise is how bad she is at keeping secrets… and how much shin loves her anyway. ↷ shin asakura ; sakamoto days

author's note: A BIRTHDAY SPECIAL FOR MY BABY!! i won't let the day end without doing this for him, i love him sm

SHIN KNEW SOMETHING was up.

He could hear it—well, not in the normal way. Not voices exactly. Just… bursts of nervous thoughts every time you entered the room.

“Okay, don’t say anything weird.”

“Act natural. Smile normal. Not creepy smile. NORMAL.”

“Don’t let him know about the party don’t let him know about the party don’t—WAIT CRAP DID I JUST THINK THAT?!”

Yeah. Real subtle.

Shin smirked to himself as he sat on the Sakamoto store counter, twirling a pen and pretending to read inventory.

You were in the back room whispering something to Heisuke that sounded suspiciously like “Where do we hide the cake so Shin doesn’t find it with his mind powers?!”

He couldn’t even be mad.

You were trying so hard it was adorable.

Still, Shin hated pretending to be clueless. Especially when he knew you were about two seconds from exploding with birthday party anxiety.

You finally reappeared, looking like a deer caught in psychic headlights.

“Hey.” You cleared your throat. “How’s… inventory?”

Shin raised an eyebrow. “What are you up to?”

“Me?! Nothing! Absolutely nothing! Haha. Normal things. Regular Thursday things. Do you like… balloons?”

He stared at you. You stared back, eyes wide, brain screaming.

“…You’re planning a party, aren’t you?”

“NO!”

"…Maybe.”

Shin laughed. Actually laughed. You looked so horrified it was almost tragic. You buried your face in your hands.

“Ughhh I was trying to make it a surprise! I spent all night making your favorite cake! It’s strawberry matcha and it’s very ugly but it tastes okay I swear and I even got Lu to help me write ‘Happy Birthday Shin’ without spelling anything wrong!!”

He hopped down from the counter and pulled you into a warm hug before your rambling could spiral further, “You made me a cake?”

“…With too much frosting,” you mumbled into his shirt. “But yeah.”

His chest rumbled with another laugh, this one quieter.

“You’re the worst at secrets, you know.”

“Shut up,” you said, but you were grinning now. “You love it.”

And maybe he did love it. All of it. The disaster frosting, the balloon taped to the ceiling fan, the way you’d gone out of your way to make his day special when he’d never even had birthday parties growing up.

Hell, he even loved how terrible you were at lying.

“Thank you,” he whispered, pressing his forehead gently to yours.

You blinked. “For what?”

“For being mine.”

You looked like someone just short-circuited your soul.

“…I did not emotionally prepare for you to say something that sweet,” you wheezed.

Shin just smirked.

“Good.”

Bonus:

Heisuke accidentally shoots the “Happy Birthday” banner down. Lu replaces the frosting with whipped cream and makes a tower of strawberries on top. Sakamoto eats half the cake before Shin blows out the candle.

You end up making Shin another one at 2 a.m.

He swears it’s the best birthday he’s ever had.

Even if the balloons do catch fire. (Totally not your fault.)

© eriace ;; don’t repost my works.

[xxxlebensfreudexx]

HPCC Hamburg

I just saw the play from the 5th row, my first time being so close to the stage and actually seeing the actors' facial expressions.

My soul is buzzing, I feel like I'm levitating. No, but seriously that was a soul-crushing experience in the best way possible! Before, I thought it wouldn't be that different to seeing it from the back but boy was I wrong.

Firstly the stage was so close, it truly felt like you as an audience are within that world, which made everything that much more real and visceral. Also seeing everyone's facial expressions made such a huge difference!!! My heart felt like it was ripped apart and put back together again. I'm not even exaggerating.

Today's performance was full of understudies, which I absolutely adored. And every actor was so on point. It didn't matter which person you looked at, it truly felt like they were the actual character as the acting was so detailed and real even those who are far at the back or to the side. It made everything feel so flipping real!!!!

I also gotta give huge probs to all the swings because it is so impressive what they do. The actor who played albus yesterday (which I saw via ticket lottery) played Craig today. And it's so mind-blowing how much dialogue and choreography and everything belonging to the different tracks they simply have stored in their mind. And depending on what role they are playing each day, can just switch between the different tracks. They probably need to have so much order in their mind.

I always love to see how the different actors portray the albus scorpius dynamic as each actor brings a different nuance and dynamic. Today's scorpius was really vulnerable and in act 2 he was so f---ing in love with albus. In the church scene in St. Jerome's he was so doe-eyed, literal heart eyes at albus on that bench and was about to reach out for albus' hand to hold it or to sooth it. Interestingly in today's scorbus version scorpius was very sure in what he was feeling for his best friend (my first time seeing the play irl it was the exact opposite, but each dynamic though different felt so fitting and real with the certain actors).

As I said in my other post, when I saw the play before, in the German version it is blindingly obvious that it is romantic. In the Delphi scene where she says "It's LOVE." There was no room for interpretation today, it was blindfully obvious, same goes for the albus harry talk at the end.

And also for the scorbus palace of harmony scene: at the bottom of the stairs when the dialogue goes "I wasn't sure if I should. In this new version of us..." scorpius was so coy and touchy. Again those lovey eyes at albus and he fixed his robe in such a subtle but incredibly flirty way, feeling albus' chest. Very cheeky.

As you can tell I'm obsessed and will be back to watch it again some time in the future! It's so impactful and so life-changing!

Everyone go watch it, it's beautiful!!!

[userhangmanpage]

Hangman brought his Orihara Moonsault back | AEW Revolution 2025 | 🎥 Alternate shot

[justaz]

merlin’s secret being a visual thing. when he is around arthur or gwen or leon or morgana or [insert whatever character here] merlin seems pale and thin, almost like a ghost or an apparition. when the sun lands on him he reflects it like a corpse, he eyes seem dark and dull. he has this ethereal beauty to him, this otherworldly visage that leads many to believe he is of fae blood. he just doesn’t seem to be 100% human. but when he is ONLY with lancelot or gaius (cough or gwaine bc gwaine DEFINITELY knew) merlin is heartachingly human. merlin shines in the sunlight, colors are brighter and more vibrant around him, and his smiles are wide and his laughs are boisterous. he takes on color and leaves everyone wanting to know him. but when other join in or interact with the two, merlin shifts before their eyes so quickly and suddenly that they aren’t sure whether or not what they saw was a trick of the light. the idea still leaves them wanting more and wanting to see the merlin who is just so full of life but that merlin only appears for a small select group of people. merlin who has a guard so high that it has an effect of other’s perception of him.

[waytooinvested]

Kara to M0n El: You come from a long line of people who have done bad things, and there is something of a feud between your people and mine. I immediately think less of you for this and will make you work to earn my trust. Even once you have, if you do something that doesn't fit with my moral code you will have to prove yourself again. Kara to Lena: You come from a long line of people who have done bad things, and there is something of a feud between your people and mine. I trust you immediately and will work to prove everyone who doubts you wrong because I believe in you so completely. When you do something that doesn't fit with my moral code I will fight harder for you and stand up for you against anyone who questions your goodness, including you.

Kara: Uh... M0n El is totally the one I'm into tho.

[waitineedaname]

I love that the best emotional acting when it comes to facial expressions comes from Lan Wangji (microexpressions) and Jiang Cheng (macroexpressions). Lan Wangji doesn't emote much but when you're keyed in, the tiny little changes in his facial expression are Devastating. Meanwhile Jiang Cheng is feeling Every Emotion, All The Time, and you are going to see it on every inch of his face. He'll go through twenty different expressions in the same amount of seconds and that face journey will be but a brief glimpse into the awful emotional rollercoaster that is Jiang Cheng's life

[unganseylike]

i know nothing about daredevil other than the netflix version i watched at some point but i just saw a gifset of charlie cox covered in blood and it made me wonder if anyone has considered the potential applications for declan, because daredevil is a catholic vigilante with a respectable suit-wearing day job that knows how to beat the shit out of people (partially due to his dead boxer father) and is kinda slutty

[glowsticcc]

when i have the time and energy i'll draw it out, and this probably makes sense to me and only me,

but kremy being "fae-cursed" in love with gideon is hozier while gideon in love with kremy is sir mix-a-lot

[pinkkop]

"The moon is beautiful, isn't it?"

Lost in the Woods | Episode 6 | Gagaoolala

+ bonus: Hem's facial expression when thinking about his moon conversation with Fifa vs when thinking about his moon conversation with Prey.