#if you like posts like this pls let me know!

[delugyu]

Pls toxic guy fic …….. you need to do a pt 2 i love it :)))

hehehe of course <3

(wc: 1.5k — warnings: smut MDNI, jealousy, dubcon elements, thigh riding)

your friends don’t give up in their efforts to convince you that beomgyu’s bad for you, but you have a hard time believing them. beomgyu’s doubled down in showing his care for you—he’s incapable of prying his hands off of you, he showers you in constant praise, and he never fails to reassure you that everything’s okay. the line between platonic and romantic affection has been blurred for quite some time between you and beomgyu, but it’s something you’ve grown used to now.

beomgyu spends every moment he can with you, and makes sure to text you consistently in moments where you’re away. your friends think it’s borderline obsessive, and it never fails to become a topic of conversation in every hang out.

you know better than that, though. this is just what normal is for you and beomgyu. he’s told you enough times for it to be drilled into your head that your friendship can only be defined by the two of you, and you don’t want to make him upset anymore by questioning his behavior.

you do a good job at keeping your life with beomgyu separate from life with the rest of your friends. you learn to stop talking to beomgyu about them, and to feed into your friends’ theories about him as little as possible.

it’s not always easy, however. situations like this, for example, where you’re at the same party with beomgyu and your friends.

“i figured you’d be here,” beomgyu says, finding you as you’re grabbing another drink. he usually doesn’t go to parties unless you go with him, and you came here with your other friends this time. you didn’t even tell him you were going.

“yeah? how’d you know?” you ask. you walk back to the crowd, and beomgyu follows.

“your friend posted something about it.”

you laugh. “keeping tabs on my friends?”

he blinks at you. “no,” he says. seems like he didn’t catch your joke. you ruffle his hair, finding it cute.

you turn when you hear a friend call your name. she’s signaling you over, and you give one last look to your best friend in front of you. “i’m gonna go back to the girls now, but text me if you need me!”

you don’t look for him after that, too caught up in the atmosphere of the party. one of your friends introduces you to a handsome, charming guy. his name’s yeonjun, you find out after a short conversation, and it doesn’t take long for him to ask you to dance.

you’re pressed right up against him, following the sway of his hips, letting him lead the two of you. you’re all giggles as you talk to yeonjun, feeling entranced by the man.

it’s not even a couple minutes later that you’re pulled away from yeonjun, eyes widening at the feeling of being tugged and dragged away from the crowd. you knew who the culprit was immediately; the feeling of beomgyu’s hand on your skin is as familiar to you as the feeling of air filling your lungs.

the next thing you know, beomgyu’s shutting the bathroom door behind you, locking the two of you inside. you get no chance to ask questions before his lips are on yours, kissing you with more heat than you’ve ever seen from him before.

even in your tipsy state, you know this is much further than you’ve gone with him before. he doesn’t pull away, though, sucking your lips like he has something to prove. you jerk your head to the side so his mouth detaches from yours.

“what’s going on?” you ask, searching for an answer on his face. all you find is how pissed off he is.

“you tell me. who the fuck was that?” he levels you with a hard stare, leaving no room for excuses.

“some guy my friend knows,” you answer, shrugging like it’s not a big deal.

his laugh holds no real humor. “your friends always try to slut you out like this?”

“excuse me?” you let beomgyu get away with many things, but even you know when enough is enough.

he doesn’t respond, only leans in to start peppering kisses down your neck. you’re left feeling confused, not understanding his overreaction just a second ago.

your eyes go wide once you feel his tongue on your skin, licking over the spot he just kissed. you give his chest a small shove, but he doesn’t budge. he’s sucking on your skin now, surely trying to decorate it with a mark.

this is definitely too much. alarms ring in your head as all your friends’ warnings fly back to you in droves. you breathe out something that sounds like a whine when he bites down where your neck meets your shoulder. his tongue laves at the area, and his trail of kisses continues down to your collarbone.

“gyu,” you start, threading your fingers through his hair, trying to pull him away. “we shouldn’t be doing this.”

he doesn’t answer, just slips the thin sleeve of your dress down, freeing some skin. his mouth latches onto you dangerously close to your breasts, sucking marks onto you. his hand creeps up your thigh, fingertips pressing into the soft flesh. your other sleeve meets the same fate, prompting much of your chest to be exposed.

“gyu,” you try again, but your call is only met with the feeling of his hand inching further up your thigh.

you finally tug hard enough at his hair to pry him off of you. he’s equal parts anger and lust as he stares at you. he grabs onto your waist and pulls your body into his, wedging one of his legs between yours. a jean-clad thigh meets your center, but you bite back any noise that threatens to slip out.

“what is it with you and trying to replace me?” he asks, eyes flitting down your frame. they linger on the expanse of your chest. he’d just have to pull your dress down slightly for your tits to pop out.

“replace you?” you repeat, trying not to lose yourself to the feeling of him pressing against your core.

“other friends, other men, everyone else but me…” you scrunch your face at his words, not understanding him.

“i hang out with you all the time,” you counter.

one of his hands leaves your waist, making its way up to your breast. you don’t allow yourself to gasp at the feeling when he slowly rubs a thumb across your clothed nipple.

“w-what are you doing?” you ask, hanging desperately onto your sanity.

he brings his eyes back to yours. “i’m taking what’s mine.”

your eyes roll back when he makes you grind against his thigh. his other hand continues to play with your tits, and the stimulation is already overwhelming. this isn’t ever anything you’d expect to be doing with beomgyu.

“we can’t”—your sentence is cut off by a gasp when he presses his thigh against you with more force—“can’t do this.”

“why?” he asks. “you would have ran off to do this with yeonjun anyway. i’m just giving you what you wanted.”

you throw your head back, still trying to fight the feeling, but it’s hard when he’s rubbing you against him so deliciously. your friends were right: beomgyu is taking things too far, but you can’t bring yourself to stop him now.

“how do you feel?” he asks, pulling his hand from your breast to make you look directly at him. he’s got a tight hold on your jaw, so you can’t save yourself and look another way. his stare is so intense, it leaves you feeling naked.

“good,” you answer. he grins at that, and his hand on your hip coaxes you to roll your hips a little more. it doubles the buzz you were already feeling, and you whine at the sensation. your legs start twitching, pleasure taking over.

a knock at the door brings a sense of fear upon you. you look at beomgyu in horror, realizing he’s not going to stop. he leans in, bringing his lips to your ear.

“you gotta cum now, okay?” you shake your head, not wanting to risk the person on the other side of the door hearing anything. “yes, you do.”

he uses both his hands on your hips to drag your cunt across his thigh, determined to get you off before you get kicked out of the bathroom. you cover your mouth with your hand, trying your hardest to keep any sounds from escaping you. it’s so hard when your whole body is succumbing to the feeling, orgasm creeping up on you. another knock sounds at the door, harder this time.

“come on, show me what i do to you,” beomgyu urges, eyes locked on your face. he smiles at your wide eyes, so conflicted between wrong and right. you have no choice—your climax hits you before you can stop it. you close your eyes and focus on being as silent as you can while your hips stutter against him.

“good job,” he praises as you come down, hands moving from your thighs to fix the straps of your dress. you bring your hand off your mouth when he pulls his thigh from you. you feel like you can finally breathe again.

“we need to talk about this later,” you say.

he smiles. “why don’t we just go back to my place and talk about it there?”

[woozinhos]

can i request a yeosang ff with his pregnant gf who's gonna have a girl named seolya. yeosang woke up hard like he's gonna explode if he doesn't have his dick in his gfs mouth or smth pls pls and tyvm.

Notes: gang I’m back hehe hope you missed me and enjoy the fics I post tonight!

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.

Yeosang slowly opened his eyes, blinking groggily as he came to consciousness. He was immediately aware of a certain...discomfort. A warm, familiar ache between his legs that signaled he was hard as a rock. He glanced over at you, still asleep beside him, and felt a wave of desire wash over him. He shifted slightly, his body seeking relief from the throbbing need he felt.

Yeosang reached out to gently touch your arm, his fingers tracing a path up to your shoulder. He couldn't help but admire the way you looked, even in your sleep. The way your hair was splayed across the pillow, the way your lips were slightly parted. He felt a surge of love and desire for you, his heart swelling as he gazed at you. But the ache in his groin was becoming unbearable, and he couldn't ignore it any longer. Yeosang's hand moved from your shoulder to your stomach, his touch gentle as he rubbed slow circles on your belly. He felt a pang of tenderness as he touched the spot where your child, Seolya, was growing.

"My little family," he murmured to himself, his voice filled with love and affection. Yeosang's hand continued to roam over your belly, his fingers tracing patterns on your skin. He leaned in closer, his lips finding your neck and pressing gentle kisses along the sensitive skin. He whispered sweet nothings into your ear, telling you how beautiful you were, how much he loved you, and how much he wanted you right now. As you stirred awake, Yeosang's lips froze on your neck. He held his breath, hoping you wouldn't be too groggy and would notice his state. He continued to gently rub your belly, waiting to see if you would fully wake up. His heart was racing, his need for you growing with each passing moment.

"Mmm...good morning," you mumbled sleepily, stretching and opening your eyes. You blinked a few times, trying to adjust to the light filtering into the room. Yeosang's hand froze on your belly again as you spoke, and he looked down at you with a mixture of relief and desire. "Morning, love," he replied, his voice a little huskier than usual. You turned your head to look at Yeosang, taking in his flushed cheeks and the way his chest was rising and falling a little too quickly. It was then that you noticed the tent in his boxers.

"Oh," you said, a small smile spreading across your face. "Someone's a little excited this morning." Yeosang chuckled sheepishly, his cheeks turning a deeper shade of red. "Yeah, well...I woke up like this," he admitted, his hand still resting on your belly. "And seeing you sleep next to me wasn't helping." You shifted closer to him, reaching out to gently trace the outline of his erection through his boxers. Yeosang let out a low moan, his eyes fluttering closed at your touch.

"God, you have no idea what you do to me," he said, his voice filled with need. Your touch sent a shiver down his spine, and he couldn't help but arch into your hand. He was already so sensitive, and every little movement of your fingers sent sparks of pleasure through his body.

"Please," he whispered, his voice barely above a whisper. "I need you." You leaned in closer, your hand still working its magic on him through his boxers. "You know I can't do much while I'm pregnant, right?" you teased, your voice laced with playful innocence.

Yeosang groaned, his eyes opening to look at you with a mixture of desperation and longing. "I know," he said, his voice strained. "But that doesn't mean I can't think about it." He shifted restlessly, his body seeking friction against your hand. "You have no idea how hard it is to hold back when you're right there in front of me, all soft and beautiful." You continued to tease him, your fingers dancing lightly over his erection. Yeosang's breathing grew ragged, his eyes fixed on you with a mix of frustration and desire.

"Please, love," he pleaded again, his voice low and desperate. "I need to feel you. I need to touch you."

"Please, at least let me feel your mouth," Yeosang begged, his hips bucking up against your hand. "I need something, anything. I can't take it anymore." He looked at you with pleading eyes, his need for you overwhelming him. You smirked at him, enjoying the way he was coming undone under your touch. "You really want it that badly, huh?" you teased, your fingers still working him over his boxers.

Yeosang's eyes darkened with desire as you teased him, his need for release becoming almost unbearable. "I'll do anything," he growled, his voice low and gravelly. He gripped your hips and gently pushed you onto your side, his body following suit so that he was behind you. Yeosang positioned himself over you, his knees on either side of your head as he looked down at you with a mix of hunger and affection. His boxers were straining against his erection, the sight making his breathing even more ragged.

"You have no idea how much I've been thinking about this," he murmured, his hands gently running through your hair. Yeosang slowly pulled down his boxers, freeing his aching erection from the confines of the fabric. He let out a low moan as he felt the cool air hit his sensitive skin, his eyes never leaving your face.

"Please, baby," he begged again, his hand gently guiding his cock towards your lips. "I need you so bad. Just a taste, please." He was desperate for your touch, his body trembling with need as he waited for you to grant him his request. Yeosang let out a strangled gasp as your tongue made contact with his sensitive tip, his body shuddering at the sensation. He tangled his fingers in your hair, his grip on you tightening as he tried to maintain control.

"God, yes," he moaned, his hips bucking slightly forward as he sought more of your touch. "Just like that." Yeosang let out a deep, guttural moan as you took him into your mouth, his eyes rolling back in pleasure. He rocked his hips slowly, his fingers gently massaging your scalp as you worked your magic on him.

"Fuck, you feel so good," he panted, his body quivering with pleasure. "Don't stop." You could feel the smooth, velvety texture of his skin against your tongue, the weight of him heavy and satisfying. He tasted slightly salty, a mixture of sweat and arousal that made your mouth water. His hips moved in a slow, steady rhythm, gently guiding himself in and out of your mouth. His fingers were still tangled in your hair, tugging gently on the strands as he sought to control his own pleasure. As you continued to suck him, you could feel him getting harder and more desperate in your mouth. He was panting heavily now, his breath coming in short, ragged gasps.

"I'm not going to last long," he warned, his voice strained. "You're driving me crazy, love." Yeosang pulled away from you, his chest heaving as he tried to catch his breath. He looked down at you with a mixture of desire and regret.

"God, I want you so bad," he confessed, his eyes roaming over your body. "But I know I can't. Not while you're pregnant." He leaned down and pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead, his body still trembling with need. Yeosang's self-control was fading fast, his body and mind warring with each other. He knew he should stop, that he shouldn't be pushing you to do anything while you were pregnant, but the need was too strong. He slowly pushed his cock back into your mouth, his movements a little more forceful than before. He was being careful not to go too deep or hurt you, but he couldn't help the roughness that crept into his actions.

"Fuck," he groaned, his eyes fixed on the sight of you taking him in. "I can't help it. You look so good like this." You moaned around his cock, the sound sending a shiver of pleasure down his spine. He began to move faster, his hips snapping against your face as he chased his release.

"You're taking me so well," he praised, his fingers still tangled in your hair. "So good for me, even when I shouldn't be doing this." Yeosang's words were becoming increasingly incoherent as he lost himself in the pleasure of your mouth. His grip on your hair tightened, and he began to thrust a little deeper, his cock hitting the back of your throat.

"Fuck, I'm close," he panted, his voice rough with desire. "I'm going to come soon." You could feel him swelling even more in your mouth, his balls drawing up tight against his body as he neared his release. He was letting out a constant stream of curses and moans, his body trembling with the effort of holding back.

"Take it all," he gasped, his hips stuttering as he lost control. "I'm gonna come down your throat."

With a final thrust, Yeosang came undone, spilling his hot, salty seed into your mouth. He cried out your name, his body shuddering as wave after wave of pleasure washed over him. He slowly pulled out of your mouth, panting heavily as he collapsed onto the bed beside you. Yeosang leaned over and pressed a gentle kiss to your cheek, his hand still rubbing soothing circles on your stomach. He nuzzled against your neck, inhaling the scent of you as he held you close.

"You're perfect," he whispered, his voice filled with tenderness. "You're everything I've ever wanted, and more." Yeosang continued to shower your stomach with kisses, his lips gentle against the soft skin. He pressed his ear against you, as if trying to hear the baby's heartbeat through your belly.

"I love you both so much," he murmured, his hand still caressing your stomach lovingly. "You have no idea how happy you make me."

[rcris123]

Trigun Stargaze Prediction Bingo

Okay here we go! This is just speculation, obviously, and I invite speculation alongside it! All i know is that Studio Orange loves the Trigun manga, because they put in a LOT of details in Stampede that make me want to chew it.

Since we open and end Stampede following Meryl, I think episode 1 will open with a remake/reimagining of the first time we see Meryl and Milly in both the Manga and 98’ anime.

Maybe they’re following rumors of Vash the Stampede and stumble into the town where ‘Eriks’ is with a fake Vash.

I think the Eriks episode/chapter might be adapted as it is, maybe with Meryl and Milly added in the mix bc studio Orange loves to center Meryl and put her right beside Wolfwood whenever they’re with/helping Vash.

I don’t think we’ll see Vash actually acting out his puppy routine. Though this is the studio that did Beastars-

I have a gut feeling they will have Meryl cut Vash’s hair instead of Lena and if that's the case I will legitimately cry.

We’ll have to return pretty soon to Home ship, me thinks probably around episode 4-5, with the reason to do so being injuries post a Gung-Ho Guns confrontation (money’s on Raidei and/or Dominique given their absence around the blowing up incidents).

If we get more of angel Vash and/or that one scene where he almost catches Meryl in his destruction I will once again legitimately cry (might happen here or later, but feeling is they will restructure the story so that plays into WW’s and Meryl’s feelings towards him going into the fight on Home ship IF that’s what they’re going for.)

We will get to see Knives be reborn from one of the pregnant plants much like he did in the manga, but I don’t know if they will also redesign him with long hair for it or not.

Once on Home Ship, the humans from Earth will come back into the plot, but I have no clue what how they’re going to include them and Knives’s ARK.

Around Episodes 5-7 we’ll get the Home ship fight against Grey the Nine Lives and Puppet Master. It will be a 2 parter, much like the sand steamer.

I think all healing scenes will be conflated into something coming before the Home ship fight and none after.

We won’t be getting Wolfwood saving Vash from Knives’s ARK because that arch was roughly equivalent to episodes 10-12 from Stampede, including Elendeira-WW conversation/conflict. (A shame because Volume 7-8 are amazing and they wreck me every time 😭)

I don’t know how we’re going to get back to the orphanage and the RL & Chapel vs Wolfwood fight (pls let it be Elendira & Mr. Hornfreak fight pls and thank you) , but we’re going to get it roughly around episode 9. And it will take up the entire episode. We’ll get the explanation/backstory for Razlo. Vash shows up only halfway through like in the manga.

Wolfwood still dies, at the beginning of the next episode, the rest of it being set-up for the finale.

They might fuck us up in a new innovative way but, if we get couch scene in any capacity, I will eat drywall.

Episode 10 or 11 sounds like Legato fight territory, backstory and Vash killing him included.

Zazie's going to get a much bigger role, maybe even turning tables against Knives in the end fight? bc Studio Orange loves Zazie and I love him too.

How hard they're going to lean VW I also don't know, but the 2025 new years post heavily implies we're going to get something, because that was too intentional with the same kimono & being just the two of them in much more formal attire than their 2024 versions. Also it's the studio that did Beastars.

[bluebellian]

Empire State Of Mind

This is my first post guys, PLS be nice. Also idk how to make my posts look pretty😭😭😭

Reader comes home early from a business trip in London. She doesn’t tell Clayton she’s coming home, she wanted to surprise him. It’s a short one.

Warnings: implied sex.

The soft click of the penthouse door echoes in the quiet, but you barely notice it as you drop your bag to the floor. The tension of the trip still clings to you, but all you can think about is seeing him again.

“Clayton?” you call out, your voice carrying through the open space.

From down the hall, a faint shuffle of movement comes from his office. He pauses, brow furrowing as he glances toward the door, certain he just imagined it. He shakes his head, going back to whatever papers he was flipping through.

“Clayton?” you call again, your voice a little louder, tinged with amusement.

This time, his head snaps up. The chair scrapes back as he stands abruptly, and before you can call for him a third time, he’s bolting down the hall, his footsteps echoing against the polished floor.

When he sees you standing there, your coat still draped over your shoulders and a soft smile tugging at your lips, his whole face lights up. “You’re home!” he breathes, almost disbelieving, before he closes the distance in seconds.

He doesn’t stop to think—his arms scoop around your waist, and before you know it, you’re spun into the air. A laugh escapes your lips as he twirls you around, holding you close like he might never let you go.

“I thought I was imagining it, you’re back early.” he says, setting you down briefly—only to bend at the waist, grip your legs, and toss you over his shoulder like you weigh nothing.

“Clayton!” you squeal, laughter bubbling out of you as he takes off toward the bedroom, his pace quick and his hold firm.

“Do you know how many nights I’ve had to sleep alone in that bed?” he teases, his tone light but laced with affection. “I’m making up for lost time.”

He strides into the bedroom, kicking the door shut behind him before gently easing you down onto the mattress. His hands never leave you as he leans in, his lips brushing against your forehead, then your cheek, before stopping just shy of yours.

“Welcome home,” he murmurs, his voice low and warm, every word dripping with the love he’s been holding in since you left.

As he leans in, his lips finally brush against yours, soft and slow at first, then deepening as his hands cup your face, pulling you impossibly closer. His kiss is warm, filled with all the emotions he’s been holding back during your time apart.

But as much as you’ve missed him, you can’t help but tease. You press your palms lightly against his chest, breaking the kiss with a mischievous smile. “You didn’t even ask me how London was!” you say, feigning indignation.

He pauses, eyebrows raising slightly as if he’s only just remembered that London was a thing. “How was London?” he asks, his tone polite but clearly distracted as his lips find their way to the corner of your mouth, then to your jawline.

“It was—” You try to focus, but the warmth of his breath against your skin makes it almost impossible. “It was busy, and the weather was terrible. And—”

“Uh-huh,” he murmurs, nodding as though he’s listening intently, even as his kisses trail down the side of your neck. “Sounds fascinating. Please, go on.”

You laugh, swatting at his shoulder. “You’re not even paying attention!”

“I am!” he insists, pulling back just enough to meet your eyes, though the grin tugging at his lips gives him away. “London was busy. The weather was terrible. Did I miss anything important?”

“Not really.” you admit, unable to keep a straight face.

“Good.” he says, closing the small distance between you once more, his lips finding yours in a way that silences any further protests.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The bedroom is quiet now, the only sound the faint hum of the city far below. You’re lying tangled together, his arm draped lazily over your waist as you trace random patterns on his chest. The sheets are a complete mess, evidence of the reunion you both clearly needed.

You glance at the crumpled bedding and sigh, breaking the peaceful silence. “We need to change the bedding.”

Clayton hums softly, his voice drowsy as he presses a kiss to the top of your head. “Later.” he murmurs, tightening his arm around you as if that’s reason enough to put it off.

You smile but don’t argue, instead shifting slightly to look out the massive window that frames the city skyline. The twinkling lights stretch endlessly, a view you hadn’t realized you missed so much until now.

You moved to New York a few years ago, chasing a dream you’d held onto since you were twenty. At twenty-six, you took the leap, leaving everything behind and settling into a tiny, shoebox apartment, determined to make it work. And you did. You worked your way up to your dream job in journalism. Along the way, you met Clayton at a work event, and everything changed. Now, you live in a luxurious penthouse apartment—the kind you only see in movies. And being here with Clayton, in this life you’d built, made it hard to remember a time before him. The city meant more to you now than you ever thought it could.

“I missed New York.” you say softly, your gaze distant as you take it all in.

Clayton’s fingers brush absentmindedly along your arm as he watches you. “New York missed you,” he replies, his voice gentle, like he’s answering for the city itself. “I missed you.”

You glance back at him, your chest tightening at the way he’s looking at you—like there’s nowhere else he’d rather be.

“Think we’ll ever get tired of this?” you ask, half-teasing but curious all the same.

He smiles, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. “Not a chance.”

You lay nestled against him. The weight of his arm draped protectively over your waist. The city lights outside twinkled softly, but your mind was already starting to run a mile a minute.

“We’re going to start trying for a baby… in about two years,” you said, your voice quiet but certain. “But I’ll never be ready to let the penthouse go.” You sighed, a hint of sadness creeping into your tone as your gaze drifted to the glittering skyline. You wanted to be a mom more than anything, but leaving this penthouse? The penthouse was big enough for one baby, maybe two, but not for a family. You and Clayton hadn’t really talked about how many kids you wanted—neither of you were sure—but it was definitely more than one. And now, at thirty-one, you both knew it was time to start thinking about a house, somewhere you could all grow into.

Clayton hummed thoughtfully, his hand brushing lazily up and down your arm. “We’ll figure it out when the time comes.” he said softly, his voice calm and grounding.

You nodded, but the gears in your head didn’t stop turning. “We really do need to change the bedding, y’know?” you blurted, sitting up slightly as your inner germaphobe kicked in.

His brow furrowed as he looked down at you, amused. “What?”

“I didn’t shower, Clayton.” you began, your words spilling out faster now. “I had a whole day of traveling. Airplane germs. Taxi germs. Sweat. How could you take me to our bed without letting me shower first? Oh my god—”

“Sweetheart—” he started, but you were already on a roll.

“No, listen! We both need a shower. Do you realize the germs I must’ve spread on—on everything? The sheets, the pillows… probably you!”

He was chuckling now, low and warm, as he propped himself up on one elbow to watch you with amused adoration. “You’re spiraling, love.”

You threw him a playful glare. “I am not spiraling. I’m being practical. We need to fix this.”

He reached out, catching your hand and pulling you back down against him. “How about this,” he said, his lips brushing your forehead. “We take a shower together—”

“Good.” you muttered, still half-pouting.

“—but not until you stop overthinking for just one minute and let me enjoy having you here.” he finished, squeezing you gently.

You huffed, but the warmth of his embrace was impossible to resist. “Fine.” you relented, though a smile tugged at your lips. “But the bedding still needs to be changed after.”

“Deal.” he murmured, pressing a kiss to your temple as you finally let yourself relax. Now, he wanted to figure out why you were stressing.

Clayton chuckled softly, catching you mid-ramble and pulling you back down beside him. “Come here.” he murmured, wrapping an arm securely around you and pressing a kiss to your temple.

You let yourself sink into his embrace, but your mind was still racing.

“Why are you stressing?” he asked gently, his voice low and calm.

You didn’t answer right away. Instead, you turned your head to gaze out at the window. The view of New York stretched out before you, glowing and alive, the perfect reminder of everything you loved about this city.

That answered his question.

Clayton followed your line of sight, his hand brushing idly up and down your arm as realization settled over him. “You’re thinking about all the things we’ll have to leave behind someday.” he said softly, piecing it together.

You nodded, your throat tightening just a little. “I’m not ready to give this up.” you whispered, almost to yourself.

“You don’t have to be ready yet,” he assured you, his lips brushing against your temple. “We’ve got time.”

His words were grounding, his warmth anchoring you as you melted further into his arms.

“Okay,” you murmured, your eyes still on the skyline. But deep down, you knew the city would always be part of your story, no matter where life took you next.

[journal3sposts]

Daryl Dixon x Reader drabble

MDNI. 18+

author's note: No use of Y/N, the reader is very self indulgent, my apologies. It's not finished, and soppily written, based off a post i made a few months back. This is my first time posting any of my writing, pls be gentle with me. Thank you!

Daryl walked in his home in Alexandria, kicking off his boots and dropping his crossbow to the floor. As soon as you heard him, your face lit up, it had been days, and you always worried yourself when he was on runs. You quickly made your way over to him and let your arms snake around his neck, head rolling into his shoulder to leave kisses, “Mmm, God, baby. I missed you so much- I got dinner cooking if you wanna shower or rest for a bit-“

“Stop cookin’. Ain’t hungry.” He pushed your arms off his shoulders and went up the stairs with heavy steps echo through the whole house. You turned your oven lower and opened a book nearby, you’d wait on Daryl, he deserves someone to wait on him after all he’s been through. You were happy to give him the space he needed. You checked your roast, read your book, and cleaned up the living room, all before he came back down. His hair was wet, he had showered. You smiled, it took many years but you had gotten him in the habit, you wanted him to have a healthy life so bad, people who love him, a good routine. He made his way down the stairs, feet still heavy- as always. He was shirtless, a rare sight, one only meant for you. You thought he was beautiful. He made his way to the barstools at the counter, taking a seat shyly, like a kid who’d been scolded. You set down your wine glass, tone soft snd sweet.

“You wanna talk, sweetheart?”

“No.”

“Okay.” You picked your book back up, taking another sip of wine, allowing him to just exist with you, before he broke the silence

“I will, though.”

“You don’t have to if you don’t want to, love.”

“Why are you like that?”

“Like what?”

“Yer all fuckin’ understanding, and spoutin’ off all this therapy bullshit all the time, and your voice never raises. Just little miss fuckin’ perfect over there.” He spat with with some inward resentment. He was raising his voice and waving his hands, and there you sat, waiting on him

“I’m not perfect, Daryl.”

“Oh don’t do-“

“No, wait. Hear me, sweetheart. I already did this. I already got to heal, i’m healthy and i’m happy, and i want that for you. Now let me help.” You spoke a bit firmer than you normally do with your husband, putting a hand on his stubbled cheek to make him look you in the eye.

“ ‘m sorry.” Without much warning his large hands were on your waist and pull you close. “Goddamnit, ‘m so fuckin’ sorry. J-Just t-the whole run w-as f- fucki-“

“Baby, you don’t have to tell me if you aren’t ready.”

“ ‘m so sorry, so sorry-“ His head was buried in neck, inhaling the scent of your shampoo. His grip was so tight you swear you’d find little purple marks in their places the next morning, but Daryl needed you right now. He needed this, so you didn’t care how many bruises you find. You combed your fingers through his long damp hair, trying to soothe him. “You don’t need to apologize, just gotta let me know what you need, okay?”

He didn’t say anything for a while, just sat like that. But it wasn’t much longer until he was standing up, pushing you onto the counter as he slotted himself between your thighs, nipping at your neck. You were surprised, and a bit concerned, you began pushing his head back, delicate fingers on his jaw to make him look you in the eye “Are you sure? I don’t think-“

“ ‘m so sorry- let m-me fix it, l-let me fix i-it. S-sorry, so sorry-“ His eyes had tears prickling, threatening to fall over as he desperately undid your pants and pulled them down, mumbling his incoherent mess of ‘sorry’s’ into your cleavage. Your fingers ran through his hair, scratching his scalp, soothingly. He needed this. Who were you to deny such a pretty boy?

“It’s okay, baby. Take what you need, it’s okay.” As soon as the words left your mouth his lips met yours, in sweet, raw, depraved mess. He was so desperate, one arm wrapped around you pulling as close as possible with his other hand sneaking under the waistband of your panties. As soon as his rough, calloused fingers met your clit, making small uncontrolled circles, you’re grabbing at his hair, bucking your hips to get more. Daryl was happy to give you whatever wanted, he needed forgiveness, he needed you, engulfing him, he needed to breathe you, to consume you. He wasted no time sliding two thick fingers in your needy hole. “Daryl- Dar, I- Fuck, honey, slow down-“ But he didn’t. He wouldn’t, he couldn’t fathom stopping. His mouth was leaving sloppy wet kisses up and down the column of your neck, fingers moving faster to curl up inside you, searching for that little spot that made you shake, mumbling “ ‘m sorry, sweetheart. So s-sorry, i-i’ll fix it, i’ll- i’ll make you feel g-good-“

You we’re moaning out and clenching at how how he moved, twisting and sucking on your sweet spot. His fingertips brushed against your g-spot, your legs closed around him, forcing him impossibly closer as his free hand worked on pulling off your top, with your assistance. You were writhing against him, clinging to him as the knot in your core tightened “Dar, I-I’m c-close…” He had been damn near humping the cabinet at this point, keeping his same movement as his thumb found your clit. The knot finally snapped, leaving you screaming into his mouth and bucking into his hand as your tits slapped against his chest at your movements. It wasn’t long before he had pulled his heavy cock out snd lined it up, bottoming out as you squeal from the overstimulation “Baby- Dar, wait, you gotta-“ The tears had made their way past his eyelashes, falling over his cheeks as he sniffed and pounded into you. You were screaming, clenching around him, dripping down his thighs and heavy balls. No part of you wasn’t left utterly defiled. And you loved it. He didn’t seem mentally present, he was reeling, still pleading for forgiveness, no matter how much you tried to reassure him through your moans, and it didn’t help when his fingers met that little bud, again, much more rough and messier this time. You clenched around him more as his own noises grew, you loved his little sounds. “Dar, ‘m close- fuck, i’m…” You were bucking your hips, trying to meet him, to reach your end, craving that sweet release again, as his incoherent rant continues. “So sorry, Y/n, s-so sorry- make it better g-gonna fix-ahh..” He was close. You could hear it in his voice.

@darylscigarettesmoke @lumimon47

[hetafice]

hi hi !! loveee your blog so far, it’s v nice to see more hetalia writers popping up again. if you’re interested in tackling this request, i’d like to see your take on how a yandere romano would deal with feelings of jealousy in regards to his darling getting a little too close than what his insecure brain’s comfortable with to his brother veneziano? 🫶💕

tysm! these are still yandere hcs, but i actually ended up also doing a small character study. i’ve been wanting to do those more recently so if you’re interested send in a request! bonus points if it’s not a super popular character. + this came out a lot longer than intended, so enjoy.

This is something Lovino would not be able to handle.

He has spent centuries trying to navigate the minefield that is the relationship with his brother--with varying degrees of success. One thing that has remained constant, however, is the fact that people overwhelmingly prefer his younger brother.

Romano has seemingly tried everything. Careful imitation, acting the complete opposite, sabotaging from the shadows, acting as right-hand man, you name it. Nothing has seemed to stick.

Even now, he’s invisible. Reduced to the lesser half a whole. Forever shackled to his brother, effectively prevented from exercising his own agency.

It’s never fun to be stuck in someone's shadow, but for the person whose shadow you're stuck in to be so unflinchingly blasé about it? For one to be as stuck as long as Lovino has? Being forcefully denied your own personhood like that often breeds contempt. Hatred like that can simmer under the surface for decades, even centuries before bubbling over and being noticed by others. Holding hatred like that for so long as he has? It’s almost enough to drive someone mad.

But when he gets you and has something of his own for once he relaxes a bit. There’s no need to be on edge, to constantly put on airs, because he has someone in his corner. Someone who has taken the time to know him on a deep, personal level. Someone, who despite his faults, is willing to love him, and in turn trusts him enough to love them back. That alone is enough to satiate him, to quiet his restless mind, and dull the sharp blade of self-hatred that’s been lingering within him for so long.

So when he discovers you calmly conversing with the man who has unknowingly tormented him for so long, he almost does not know what to do with himself.

It’s almost as if he’s on autopilot, mindlessly drifting over to where the two of you stand, immediately trying to assess the situation.

 In your eyes, the conversation with Veneziano was just much overdue. It was impolite to not introduce yourself to someone so close to your partner. Lovino would never say so, but sometimes the refusal to introduce you to his loved ones felt intentional. Whenever you would press the issue, he would hastily arrange a meeting to calm you down. It worked a few times; you got to meet a few of his friends, and even his pseudo-guardian/older brother/ mentor (you never were quite sure of the nature of their relationship), but you never got the chance to meet Veneziano. Occasions where you two were set to meet would mysteriously get canceled due to unforeseen circumstances. You also noticed that he would always get strangely cagey at the mention of his younger brother. 

At first, he would try to covertly sow discord between the two of you, in hopes that you would have a falling-out. In his mind, if he could manufacture situations to make you see his brother’s shortcomings, you wouldn’t want to be around him.

When he discovers, to his horror, that you have grown closer to his brother despite the careful machinations, he would spiral.

To you and Veneziano, your friendship is as right as rain, completely unforced, and a natural progression. After knowing each other peripherally for so long, making friends with you just makes sense.

But to Romano, this is yet another event point, in a seemingly infinite pattern of behavior. Time and time again, Romano finds something of his own, takes a liking to it, starts to cherish it, but only until Veneziano comes along and tries to take it. He always manages, because he is always successful in everything that he does. Afterwards, Romano is then left with nothing but more hatred to swallow and another large bruise on his ego. He can’t let it happen again, not this time, not after cultivating a relationship so pure, not like this, not-

He devises to stop it. Whatever it is between the two of you. Immediately.

Lovino, who has always been romantic, will up the ante. You suddenly find yourself whisked away on trips abroad more often than you are sat at home. How could you find the time to catch up with his brother when you have a date that night, another trip to pack for? To you, it seems as though you have entered a second honeymoon phase in your relationship. Unbeknownst to you, he’s tirelessly working to separate you. He shall get Veneziano away before he tries to take what is rightfully his for the umpteenth time.

Before your increased contact with Veneziano, your relationship was, by all accounts, normal.

You met Lovino by happenstance, and your romance blossomed at a pace that felt comfortable and right. He was nothing but loving and attentive, if a bit temperamental at times. But after you meet his brother, you notice a palpable shift in his attitude. He snaps at people more and always seems to be in deep thought. But he’s kinder in some ways as well. He’s now always concerned about your safety and likes to know where you’re going beforehand, not after the fact like you used to do. He figured out that you love the gifts he gets you, so you now receive way more of them. He’s more appreciative of everything you do as well. So much so that one day, after a particularly elaborate meal, he suggests you quit your job to take care of the home. To his delight, you eventually agree, but any joy is quickly stamped out when he hears you happily explaining your new living arrangement to his brother.

He can’t stand it really, as his mind sails through countless scenarios, unearthing trauma he thought had been resolved (or safely buried) since the early Renaissance. He doesn't know why his mind takes him in this direction, but then again he doesn't know a lot of things. He doesn't know why efforts to separate the two of you don't work, or why nothing he does ever seems to work. Why is it that he is never enough? Why, after so many attempts and failures, did Grandfather never really seem to grow fond of him? 

After yet another night of being forced to confront these long-dormant worries, he decides enough is enough. If you cannot take the hints he has so kindly given you, then he will separate the two of you by force.

Long gone are your days of exploring the city alone. No more impromptu cafe trips, walks around the park, or unsupervised trips to the post office. You are expected to stay at home, and at home you stay.

“Amore mio, it’s too dangerous out there,” he says. “There’s nothing nearby worth seeing, and you know how I feel about you driving.”

And you believe him because why wouldn’t you? He cares for you more than anyone! More than your coworkers, your friends who stopped visiting, or even your family who mysteriously don’t care enough to call anymore…

And just like that, you have been delegated to remain in the domicile. Showering him and only him with your seemingly infinite divine grace for as long as time permits it.

It’s so simple that he regrets not doing it sooner.

As for his ingrate brother, he will do anything to ensure he does not go sniffing anywhere he need not be. 

It takes nothing to ruin Veneziano’s reputation. To oust him as an incompetent womanizer. Someone whose words of concern should never be taken seriously.

To Lovino, it is well worth it. He’ll put an end to the madness, he must. Even if it means making you unhappy, or betraying his own blood, or dirtying his hands with sin, or being at the receiving end of your icy gaze for the rest of eternity.

But you aren’t unhappy, are you now? You’re over the moon, and why wouldn’t you be? You are given everything you need and more. Besides, Lovino doesn't like it when you frown.

“Look happy now. You have no reason not to,” he always says.

[marshadellow]

Two types of Cotl fanarts

[kunikiiida-kuuun]

My heart wished to stay here, because it gave me a reason to live ♡

Fukuzawa + The Founding Trio

[hyakunana]

I hate the sewers . jpg

[localwhiskeyuncle]

If you were watching Nosferatu and you noticed the doctors talking about how Ellen had too much blood and that's why she was acting crazy - let me explain why (and also how excited I am that it was included in the script).

From ancient Greece through the Renaissance, we believed in The Four Humors in medicine. Essentially, they thought there were four fluids in the body (blood, yellow bile, black bile, and phlegm) and they determined a person's temperament; an imbalance of them was believed causes illness. The Four Temperaments (based on the balance of their humors) are as follows:

Sanguine: Optimistic and social - (affected by blood)

Choleric: Short-tempered and irritable - (affected by yellow bile)

Melancholic: Analytical and quiet - (affected by black bile)

Phlegmatic: Relaxed and peaceful - (affected by phlegm)

They were also connected to celestial bodies, seasons, body parts, and stages of life. Here's a neat little chart:

Ellen was already rather macabre, and as she spiraled she became less able to adhere to social convention; it makes sense that a doctor of the time would consider that to be an imbalance of her blood. It also feels worth stating that a sanguine temperament can be likened to the manic phase of a bipolar episode, which Ellen's symptoms certainly could have been indicative of.

I also think it's an interesting (though possibly pointless) connection that a sanguine temperament is linked to the heart, to adolescence, and to Spring.

The heart obviously links to Ellen as she's a hopeless romantic. Adolescence also connects due to not only her young age in the film, but the events causing Orlok's fascination with her happened when she was quite young as well. I would argue that you can tie Spring into Ellen's character also - she was blooming, transforming, awaiting a new breath of life (death?).

It made me so happy to see it included so casually, it was such an accurate portrayal of how medicine would have actually been practiced at the time and it wasn't made into a huge thing. It shows the appreciation and effort Eggers brings to his work.

I can absolutely see how you may just brush past that part (it was brief), or attribute it to vampirism, but it's actually a super cool little detail of our real life medical history!

[livwritesstuff]

thinking about this again so here's a part 2

Eddie wakes up to rain. Heavy rain, the kind that keeps the morning sky dark and bounces loud off the roof and the walls and the windows.

The rain didn't wake Eddie up. What did it was a pair of big, warm arms wrapping around him and pulling him in close.

Steve’s arms.

Objectively, this should be a good thing, and past versions of Eddie (even twenty-four-hours-ago-Eddie) would be goddamn irate with him for feeling anything other than vehemently positive about it.

He’s feeling bothered. He’d gone to sleep last night feeling bothered because Steve had sacked out approximately three seconds after they’d hooked up for the first time, and now he’s being woken up by Steve’s big arms pulling him in close and that has Eddie feeling bothered all over again because this isn’t how he thought this would go at all.

“G’mornin’ Eds,” Steve mumbles, the remnants of sleep in his voice.

And then he has the audacity to press a soft kiss onto Eddie’s bare shoulder.

"Y'know," Steve says, "I was gonna ask if you wanted to go to the diner this morning, but…sounds like it’s kinda fuckin’ gross out there. I can make us something if you want.”

Eddie sits up, suddenly feeling like he’s been left outta the loop on some part of this because Steve doesn’t even seem surprised to wake up and find Eddie still in his bed.

If there’s anything Eddie hates more than feeling bothered, it’s feeling like he’s left outta the loop, like there’s a piece of all this that he’s missing.

"Uh, what are we doing here, Steve?" Eddie asks, and he regrets it the second he sees Steve's face turn all hurt and confused.

"I don't —" Steve starts, pushing himself up on his elbow into a half-seated position, "What...what are you talking about?"

And isn't that choice of words just completely ironic?

"Oh, now you're interested in talking? Or are you gonna fall back asleep the second I start to-"

"Wait –" Steve interrupts, his eyebrows furrowed, "Are you all pissed off because I fell asleep?"

"I'm not pissed off," Eddie mutters, fiddling with a loose string on the edge of the sheets.

"What the fuck did you want me to do?" Steve argues, "Break out a deck of cards and suggest a round of poker? It was late! I was tired! I don't know how else to say it, man. You, like — you did a good job. Really had me beat, or whatever."

And, sure, Eddie allows himself to sit with that notion for a second before he shakes his head.

"I needed you to talk to me!” he exclaims, "We fucked, and then you fell asleep, Steve! Like it was just a fuckin' hook-up to you or something."

That confused look is back on Steve's face, but instead of being laced with hurt, this time it's just plain bewildered.

"What — Eddie," he says, "We talked."

Huh?

“Huh?”

“We talked,” Steve repeats, “Before we…you know, and I said that I like you and I said that I’m not really into the casual thing anymore, and you seemed pretty on board with all that, man, I dunno.”

And yeah, sure, Eddie sort of remembers that.

He definitely remembers when Steve pressed him against his closed bedroom door, and maybe he’d also been speaking at the time, but they’d been so close together and Steve had kept doing these little glances down at Eddie’s lips and there’d been this intensity in his eyes and Eddie had been pressed against Steve Harrington’s closed bedroom door.

There hadn’t been a single coherent thought in his brain, obviously, and yes, that included comprehending any of those words Steve might have been speaking so everything that had come out of Eddie’s mouth in response had been yes, yep, uh-huh, you betcha.

Eddie feels heat rising in his cheeks and by the looks of the amused smile making a home on Steve’s face, he’s not blind to what Eddie is currently realizing either.

“Fuck,” Eddie mutters, “I’m a fucking idiot.”

"Maybe," Steve allows even as he starts to pull Eddie back into his arms, "Breakfast?"

[screeching-painter-witch]

bsd au where everything is the same except instead of his ideals notebook kunikida uses one of these bad boys:

(this post was inspired by this lovely post by @mirror-blue-shite)

[luck-of-the-drawings]

EDYN TIDESTRIDER, CHALLENGER OF THE UNDERSEA, RIVAL OF THE DEEP. WHAT WOULD YOU DO IF YOUR BROTHER WAS CHOSEN TO BE A WEAPON OF THE GODS? HOW WILL YOU UNDO WHAT THEY HAVE DONE TO HIM?

[choccy-milky]

Was messing around with picrew and accidentally made Clora halfway through 😂

THIS IS SO CUTE AWW love that u thought of clora and decided to make her😭🥹🥹

the fit is so adorable too so i decided to redraw it and actually put her in it BAHHA...defs an outfit her mom probs forced her to wear tho tbh LMAO

LMFAOOO ANON THIS KILLED ME HOW HAVE I NEVER SEEN THIS BEFORE?? BAHAHA NOW I WANNA REDRAW THIS WITH CLORA AND LEWIS SINCE THEY BOTH DONT KNOW SHIT ABOUT QUIDDITCH/SPORTS😭😭😭 clora as the mom going "he loves sports and he loves broccoli and thats why we're here!!!" LMFAOO omg this made me so happy THANK U FOR SENDING THIS BAHAHA

AW TYY🥹🥹im so happy you liked it so much!!!💖💖as for clora's name, ive said it before but its basically a butchered version of the name "clorica" that i chopped down to become just "clora"

i played rune factory 4 on the 3ds back in highschool and idk i just really loved the name clorica for some reason, so then i invented "clora" from it, to make it sound like more of a real name (but still maintaining that fantasy ish aspect) and apparently clora actually IS a real name BAHAH so i guess i succeeded?? and ever since then ive always used the name clora in any fantasy-ish RPGS, so i have a whole multiverse of cloras out there LOL. but THANK YOUUU im glad you think its as pretty as i do!!🥰 (even if it does kinda sound like chlorine LMAO which honestly ALSO sounds like it could be a pretty name... if only it wasnt already a word😩)

[polite--cat]

my official post on british accents in f1 (as a british person):

lewis hamilton: weird accent, he's clearly spent a lot of time around americans, and there's some other oddities thrown in there too. hard to judge the base british accent at this point.

lando norris: he's from somerset, as am i, so probably why his accent sounds the most "standard" to me. definitely some kind of other accent slightly creeping in there, maybe the belgian influences?

alex albon: definitely the most "posh" sounding accent on the grid to me, he speaks cleanly and enunciates

george russel: i love hearing him speak, he definitely has the most distinct accent of the lot. it's very funny to hear him called posh because it's definitely the least posh accent - he misses a lot of his letters and pronounces a lot of Ls almost like Ws.

[casscainmainly]

Cass Cain the woman that you are.

From Superboy (1994) #85