#in choice of trying and amuse

[vasiliquemort]

Experimental, learning peace of latest evening's expressions - a gentle drop, and ode, and thought of young and so demure to ways unspeakable<з

[fkitwebhaal]

In contrast to Ulder Ravenguard, I think Gale could bring any of the Origins home as his fiancee and Morena Dekarios would be fine with it.

I am saying this not as a jab against Ulder or even claiming Morena is a better parent than him (we don't know anything about her except her and Gale seem to get along).

I say this solely because if your son gets dumped by a Goddess, has a magical orb that is stuck in his chest, spends a year in a tower refusing to leave, vanishes without a word, and then shows up months later minus said orb AND in a happy relationship? And that person talked him out of blowing himself up for said Goddess and helped him save the world? IDGAF who he brought home as long as they genuinely love him and treat him well.

Women my son is going to Hell for to fix her heart. Not an ideal place for him to be but fuck it, he's getting out of the house, as long as they send post cards.

Former warlock who was cursed by patron and is now either a duke (heck yes) or going to Hell for his bestie and my son is going with. Same as above, sounds great, did you know my son's fiancee can dance.

Warrior from the astral plane going to fight a lich queen? I cannot stress how exciting it is to see him to get out of the house and she can and will carry him to safety, zero objections.

Vampire spawn? A little blood loss is WAY BETTER than the orb situation, just make sure to watch your iron intake son. Eat more spinach.

Former cultist to an evil God? Let bygones be bygones, key word here is former.

Former leader of a cult of an evil god. KEY WORD HERE IS FORMER IT'S FINE.

[anghraine]

Poll updates:

1— my small "please choose my Mass Effect romance for my scary ruthless yet severely principled Shepard" poll has concluded and the people chose Miranda (narrowly beating out Garrus; they were both well ahead of all other options).

2— with no serious competitors, book Boromir's repeatedly mentioned beauty and Literal Elf Legolas eulogizing him as "Boromir the Fair" was y'all's favorite House of Húrin fact! Boromir's sparkly beauty won 27.1% of 269 votes, while the nearest competitor was "the Ruling Stewardship passed through the bloodline of a woman twice" at 14.5%.

Incredible results, love you all <3

[baekuras]

Veilguard thinks its funny having me choose between 2 of my favourite companions/their factions/cities smh

Other things I've found slightly amusing is pre-launch people who had their eyes set on Lucanis, aka Mage Killer galore, ready to make mage rooks and it turns out he is actually super chill with anyone not his target or who hasn't wronged him/his

Other thing I've found bemusing looking back is people looking at Taash and going "omg butch lesbian" and rn that's very much on the brink of shifting at least from what Taash just told my Rook in a cutscene

[tiredassmage]

dot recreates ocs ?/we're not counting: this shithead bounty hunter as a war domain cleric of bane

[countlessrealities]

@questionablemuses sent: He's just going to flop himself across Alastor's lap purely by coincidence & convenience. "You're my pillow now. Deal with it, cause I'm not moving." ( -shoves a random Vox for Alastor for annoyance- c: )

Alastor visibly startles at the sudden, more than unexpected weight that drops on his legs. The rest of the residents are out, pursuing Charlie's latest activity, so he had decided to take a seat in one of the lounging rooms, alone with a mug of coffee and the daily newspaper. Quiet time is hard to come by these days and, while he thoroughly appreciates the entertainment, at times he still needs his moments of peace and solitude.

Pity that his plans have been ruined before he could even get properly comfortable in his spot.

What the fuck......?

"...Vox?!"

The name leaves his mouth in the same way one would help after they have accidentally stepped on something disgusting, a mixture of stunned horror and rising annoyance.

What in the Seven Rings was that idiot doing at the Hotel? His self-appointed rival is the last person he would expect to see inside those walls, or even anywhere near the building.

Vox should be very much grateful for his shock, because it's the only thing that has kept the Radio Demon from tearing him into shreds the moment their bodies have touched.

"͓̽W͓͓̽̽h͓̽a͓͓̽̽t͓̽ ͓̽d͓͓̽̽o͓̽ ͓̽y͓͓̽̽o͓͓̽̽u͓̽ ͓̽t͓͓̽̽h͓͓̽̽i͓͓̽̽n͓͓̽̽k͓̽ ͓̽y͓͓̽̽o͓͓̽̽u͓̽'͓̽r͓͓̽̽e͓̽ ͓̽d͓͓̽̽o͓͓̽̽i͓͓̽̽n͓͓̽̽g͓̽, ͓̽o͓͓̽̽l͓͓̽̽d͓̽ ͓̽p͓̽a͓͓̽̽l͓̽ ?" He asks, static already starting to distort his voice.

A clawed hand raises, but Alastor finds himself posing for an additional moment before he can push the other Overlord off. Vox looks...odd. His limbs are a little too relaxed, his screen keeps wobbling lightly from side to side and he can see little glitching spots popping up at random. Not to mention the stupid, half lost look on his face.

Was the brainless bunch of circuits intoxicated? That would explain his boldness. Nonetheless, it doesn't make the whole situation even more unpleasant to deal with.

The static grows louder as shadows pool all around Alastor, shaping into thick, eerie tentacles. They roughly grip at Vox's limbs and middle, carelessly ripping him out of his chosen spot. The other Overlord would find himself on the floor, but not before one of the appendages has smacked him hard across his screen. Not violently enough to break it, but almost.

An obvious warning.

" N̸̡̧͕͙̼̻̳̦̪̞̯͎̦͓̏̒͌͑͒͊̾͌̑̅̕͝ͅȨ̸̪̯̗̘̥̣̲̣̣͍͚͙̥̩́̀̈̆͑V̵̧͖͙̲̯̞͇̲͔̤͊̔͌͂͆͑́́̑͒͝Ȩ̸̪̯̗̘̥̣̲̣̣͍͚͙̥̩́̀̈̆͑Ŗ̷͇̙̰̭̪̟̺̲̜̹͔̎̍́ͅ T̷̡̧̬̲̭̦̘̩̊̉͛̓̓̌͌̕Ŗ̷͇̙̰̭̪̟̺̲̜̹͔̎̍́ͅÝ̴̥͙̘̇̈́̇̃͒̿́͘͘͝͝ͅ T̷̡̧̬̲̭̦̘̩̊̉͛̓̓̌͌̕Ḩ̵̛̘̤͙͔̝̫̖̻̦̞͙̺̅̿͘͝I̸̺̺͎̰̥̜̯̼̮̰͖̜͂͆̿̈́̿̔Ś̸͙̺̥̰̯͙̭͆̏͂ Ą̵̺̰̻̻͔͇͓̈́̓͛̏̈́͌͋̄̑͆̏G̶̺̥̎̄͌͑͂̔̏̓̂́̈́͜͝͝͝͝ͅĄ̵̺̰̻̻͔͇͓̈́̓͛̏̈́͌͋̄̑͆̏I̸̺̺͎̰̥̜̯̼̮̰͖̜͂͆̿̈́̿̔N̸̡̧͕͙̼̻̳̦̪̞̯͎̦͓̏̒͌͑͒͊̾͌̑̅̕͝ͅ O̵̧̗͕̹̼̦̗̮̱̝͆͊́́̈̿̋ͅŖ̷͇̙̰̭̪̟̺̲̜̹͔̎̍́ͅ N̸̡̧͕͙̼̻̳̦̪̞̯͎̦͓̏̒͌͑͒͊̾͌̑̅̕͝ͅȨ̸̪̯̗̘̥̣̲̣̣͍͚͙̥̩́̀̈̆͑X̶̨̢̗͍̪͚͍̱̭̣̰̳̠͌̓͌̅͆̈́̊̅̓̿͠T̷̡̧̬̲̭̦̘̩̊̉͛̓̓̌͌̕ T̷̡̧̬̲̭̦̘̩̊̉͛̓̓̌͌̕I̸̺̺͎̰̥̜̯̼̮̰͖̜͂͆̿̈́̿̔M̶̧͚̪͉̯̜̰͎̘̀͋̇̀͗̍́͆̑̏͂̿̊̚Ȩ̸̪̯̗̘̥̣̲̣̣͍͚͙̥̩́̀̈̆͑ I̸̺̺͎̰̥̜̯̼̮̰͖̜͂͆̿̈́̿̔ W̵̰̻͍̉̔̅̀̐͐͒͆̒̚I̸̺̺͎̰̥̜̯̼̮̰͖̜͂͆̿̈́̿̔L̷͖͈̓͌̎̉͒͗͂̓̌̚͝L̷͖͈̓͌̎̉͒͗͂̓̌̚͝ Ś̸͙̺̥̰̯͙̭͆̏͂Ḩ̵̛̘̤͙͔̝̫̖̻̦̞͙̺̅̿͘͝Ą̵̺̰̻̻͔͇͓̈́̓͛̏̈́͌͋̄̑͆̏T̷̡̧̬̲̭̦̘̩̊̉͛̓̓̌͌̕T̷̡̧̬̲̭̦̘̩̊̉͛̓̓̌͌̕Ȩ̸̪̯̗̘̥̣̲̣̣͍͚͙̥̩́̀̈̆͑Ŗ̷͇̙̰̭̪̟̺̲̜̹͔̎̍́ͅ Ý̴̥͙̘̇̈́̇̃͒̿́͘͘͝͝ͅO̵̧̗͕̹̼̦̗̮̱̝͆͊́́̈̿̋ͅU̴̡̢̱̳̳͓̗͔̮̔͜͜͜Ŗ̷͇̙̰̭̪̟̺̲̜̹͔̎̍́ͅ Ś̸͙̺̥̰̯͙̭͆̏͂O̵̧̗͕̹̼̦̗̮̱̝͆͊́́̈̿̋ͅU̴̡̢̱̳̳͓̗͔̮̔͜͜͜L̷͖͈̓͌̎̉͒͗͂̓̌̚͝ Ą̵̺̰̻̻͔͇͓̈́̓͛̏̈́͌͋̄̑͆̏N̸̡̧͕͙̼̻̳̦̪̞̯͎̦͓̏̒͌͑͒͊̾͌̑̅̕͝ͅḐ̷̮̳̣̟͉͋͗̓̕͜ Ą̵̺̰̻̻͔͇͓̈́̓͛̏̈́͌͋̄̑͆̏Ḑ̷̮̳̣̟͉͋͗̓̕͜Ḑ̷̮̳̣̟͉͋͗̓̕͜ Ý̴̥͙̘̇̈́̇̃͒̿́͘͘͝͝ͅO̵̧̗͕̹̼̦̗̮̱̝͆͊́́̈̿̋ͅU̴̡̢̱̳̳͓̗͔̮̔͜͜͜Ŗ̷͇̙̰̭̪̟̺̲̜̹͔̎̍́ͅ V̵̧͖͙̲̯̞͇̲͔̤͊̔͌͂͆͑́́̑͒͝O̵̧̗͕̹̼̦̗̮̱̝͆͊́́̈̿̋ͅI̸̺̺͎̰̥̜̯̼̮̰͖̜͂͆̿̈́̿̔C̴̀͐ͅȨ̸̪̯̗̘̥̣̲̣̣͍͚͙̥̩́̀̈̆͑ T̷̡̧̬̲̭̦̘̩̊̉͛̓̓̌͌̕O̵̧̗͕̹̼̦̗̮̱̝͆͊́́̈̿̋ͅ M̶̧͚̪͉̯̜̰͎̘̀͋̇̀͗̍́͆̑̏͂̿̊̚Ý̴̥͙̘̇̈́̇̃͒̿́͘͘͝͝ͅ B̶̨̛̺̤̱̾̀́̋̔̆̏̎͘͘Ŗ̷͇̙̰̭̪̟̺̲̜̹͔̎̍́ͅO̵̧̗͕̹̼̦̗̮̱̝͆͊́́̈̿̋ͅĄ̵̺̰̻̻͔͇͓̈́̓͛̏̈́͌͋̄̑͆̏Ḑ̷̮̳̣̟͉͋͗̓̕͜C̴̀͐ͅĄ̵̺̰̻̻͔͇͓̈́̓͛̏̈́͌͋̄̑͆̏Ś̸͙̺̥̰̯͙̭͆̏͂T̷̡̧̬̲̭̦̘̩̊̉͛̓̓̌͌̕. "

[hubba1892]

Glitzer, Glitzer, Frau Gorniak?!

[icewindandboringhorror]

this is not the exact one I watched but I saw one of these "dish scape" things at someone's house who actually has TV (like they pay for dish/cable instead of just watching stuff online) and I think they're meant to be relaxing atmospheric stuff that you mostly ignore, but I sat there for 35 minutes watching absolutely engrossed.. further proof that I genuinely think my brain is incapable of experiencing boredom lol..

[prlssprfctn]

Dick is kind of a big brother who knows what effect he has on his siblings's friends, and he never misses an opportunity to make himself look even cooler in their eyes. But Jason? Oh, Jason has no idea that people even consider him pretty and interesting.

It pisses his siblings even more.

Jason, on his bike, with the most insane face card: Hey, Replacement, hop on. We have work to do.

Kon, twirling his hair: Is your brother, like... free?

Bernard: Yeah, on Friday

Tim, with his eye twitching: I will kill you.

Jason, absolutely unaware of what is going on: ??? WHAT THE FUCK DID I DO

***

Jon, waving enthusiastically at Jason, who passes by kitchen: Jason is so cool!

Damian: ...

Jon: And kind!

Damian: Calling Todd kind is definitely a choice.

Jon: But he read me a bedtime story the last time I was staying here 😕

Damian, frowning: ...

(Damian, later that day: Why did you read bedtime story to Jon and not me.)

***

Jason: Why Tim's and Damian's friends keep fucking glaring at me? Or stumble when I am around? What tf am I doing wrong?

Dick, trying to hide his laughter: Eh, no idea

Bruce, absentmindedly: I, actually, have the same problem when I am around other people

Alfred, amused: No DNA test required, that's for sure

[stardust-and-fries]

Oh boy!! A chance for me to yap about gender at length?!?!!?!? DON'T MIND IF I DO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! [See tags for details. But be warned... I Popped the Fuck OFF writing this one, it's a doozy!]

Sorry if this is rude, but how do you identify? I looked around a bit and couldn't find anything, my apologies

Not rude! Honestly, I don't know these days! Lots of thoughts swirling around in my head. Maybe this is too much, but also maybe saying something instead of keeping it inside will be helpful... I'll put my gender thoughts under the cut... maybe someone can relate and offer some thoughts lol:

Recently, I came to the conclusion that I'm really not attracted to men at all, and maybe, I never have been. Looking back, I can kind of clearly see that any crush on a guy I thought I had was more like "wow, this person is COOL as HELL. I hope we can be really good friends." And then I noticed, that any crush I had on a girl felt... different. The feeling was totally different, and it still is. Have you noticed how most of the men I draw are quite feminine? I also have no idea what's going on with my gender. I know I'm me, a Yugo, I also can't comfortably say what exactly I am. Though by technicality, I am nonbinary, the word doesn't feel QUITE right to use for me. Maybe genderqueer is better. I've never identified as a man, but I have identified as transmasc and taken T. I really do like the results I've gotten from that. But at the same time, I don't really feel close to "manhood" at all, but something about having a mustache sometimes, like I tend to do, feels right to me still. I also like to wear lipstick and stuff. I don't know. I'm also not a "woman" I don't think, but I identify with more... I don't know, masculine expressions of womanhood if that makes sense? I am very androgynous in expression, in short. So basically I don't know what the hell is going on. All I know is I love women LOL. Can anyone relate to any of this? Any ideas?? I will not be offended by any assumptions you might have lol. Maybe I should just make a comic about this.

[gemstarstarlight]

I need you all to know that my roommate recently was talking to my dad and, apparently, he asked her some version of, “Do you think anyone’s going to tie down my daughter?”

My roommate responded, “She’s open to it but…eh…”

Apparently, my dad sighed and nodded to himself in the way of a weary old man who already knows the answer to his question.

[solxamber]

Holding Them and Not Letting Go with: Housewardens + Jamil

a little something before i go all in for the milestone events <3

Other parts: Vice Housewardens + Rollo, Neige ; First Years

Riddle Rosehearts

Riddle goes bright red the second you wrap your arms around him, stiffening in your hold like he’s forgotten how to breathe. He tries to splutter something coherent—maybe a reminder about PDA rules, maybe a request to know what’s going on—but his voice gets tangled up, and all that comes out is a confused murmur.

You don’t let go, though. Instead, you squeeze him a little tighter, prompting him to look down at you, his eyes widening with soft confusion. “Is… Is something wrong?” he stammers, gently pressing his hand to your shoulder, trying to read your face.

“Nothing’s wrong,” you answer with a warm smile. “I just love you, Riddle. That’s all.”

For a moment, he’s frozen. Just love him? He feels his heart stumble, so unfamiliar with this kind of simple, generous affection. In his childhood, hugs were formal gestures, love was measured and conditional—a reward to be earned, rarely felt freely. But here, with you… you’re holding him because you want to, with nothing expected in return.

Slowly, Riddle’s hands find their way to your back, and he pulls you close with a tenderness that surprises even him. There’s a quiet ache in his chest, an overwhelming mix of joy and disbelief, like he’s filling up with something he never knew he was missing. He clings to you, unable to speak, as though afraid that words might shatter the beautiful warmth settling between you.

You both stay like this, tangled together in silence. In this simple embrace, Riddle feels more seen, more loved, than he ever has before. It’s a feeling he wants to hold onto forever—a happiness he never thought he’d be allowed to have. For the first time, he feels completely at peace.

Leona Kingscholar

You wrap your arms around Leona, your grip firm as if you’ve decided you’re never letting go. At first, he’s as stoic as ever, arching an eyebrow in mild confusion. “Oi, herbivore…what’s this all about?” he mutters, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.

But when you stay silent, he lets out a chuckle, amused by your stubborn clinginess. “If you’re hoping to trap me, you might wanna try harder than that.”

After a few more moments, his teasing fades. You’re still holding him, your head resting against his chest, heartbeat steady against his. He tries to check if youre upset and realizes then that you’re not sad, nor do you seem upset; you’re simply content. When he starts to pull back to look at you, you give him a warm smile and quietly say, “I just…love you.”

The words wash over him, soft and simple yet deeply affecting. His expression shifts, from nonchalance to something much more vulnerable. To Leona, who’s spent much of his life overshadowed, unwanted, and fighting for recognition, the idea of being someone’s first choice feels like an impossibility.

And yet, here you are, holding onto him like he’s the only thing that matters. He swallows hard, not saying anything, but the look in his eyes says it all.

He finally allows his arms to come around you, drawing you in with more intensity than he’d probably ever admit aloud. His tail snakes around your waist in a protective loop, pulling you even closer, as if anchoring himself to you. “Don’t go getting mushy on me,” he mutters, trying to sound unaffected, but his grip tightens just a bit more.

But despite his usual attitude, he’s never felt this…full. Full of pride, full of warmth, full of something he’s struggled to admit he even wanted. And it’s all because of you, the one person who looked past his rough edges and stubborn exterior.

He chuckles softly, burying his face in your shoulder, whispering, “Guess you got yourself a lion for life, herbivore.”

Azul Ashengrotto

Azul is hunched over his desk, papers and ledgers strewn around him, eyebrows furrowed as he works late into the night. He’s so engrossed that he doesn’t even notice you approaching until you gently climb onto his lap, resting yourself against him without a word. His body goes rigid in surprise, the usual control he wields over his composure completely shattered.

“Are you... feeling alright?” he asks, voice a little breathless, struggling to keep himself calm as you press your face into the crook of his neck. “Are you sick? Is there something wrong?”

You just shake your head, pulling back just enough to meet his eyes. “I just love you, Azul,” you whisper softly, a warmth in your gaze that sends his heart into overdrive. “And I’m so proud of you.”

With that, you wrap your arms around him again, holding him close, and suddenly, all the strength in him unravels. He hadn’t realized how much he’d needed this—how much he craved reassurance, wanted to know he was worth it.

All his insecurities, fears, and memories of feeling out of place resurface, but they’re softened by your presence, and with just one hug, you’re able to ease away all that self-doubt he keeps buried.

Without another word, he wraps his arms tightly around you, his grip firm and filled with an unspoken desperation. He clings to you as though you’re his lifeline, as though you’re the single steady point in his otherwise frantic world, and for a few moments, he allows himself to just feel—to let go of the worries, to set aside the constant weight of expectations.

The mountain of paperwork on his desk feels meaningless compared to the comfort you bring, and all he wants is to stay like this, holding you as closely as he can, reveling in the feeling of being loved for who he is.

Kalim Al-Asim

Kalim is in his element, animatedly discussing ideas for his next big celebration. His hands gesture widely, his voice bright, detailing elaborate plans for decorations, food, entertainment—he's clearly in his happy place, and you can’t help but feel utterly captivated by his joy.

Without even thinking, you throw your arms around him, hugging him tightly mid-sentence. Kalim laughs, hugging you back with his usual enthusiasm, though a bit of surprise colors his expression when you show no signs of letting go. “Hey, is everything okay?” he asks, a smile in his voice.

You lean back just enough to grin up at him, eyes shining. “I’m perfectly okay. You just looked so radiant talking about the party—and I love you.”

He stares at you for a beat, completely dazzled, and then his face breaks into the brightest smile as he spins you around, laughter bubbling from both of you. When he finally sets you down, he pulls you close, cradling you like you’re the most precious thing in the world.

“I’m so glad you chose me,” he murmurs softly, his forehead pressing against yours. The simple joy radiates from him, a warmth and gentleness that wraps around you both. It’s a pure, unfiltered happiness that you feel too, knowing that you chose him, and he chose you.

You stay wrapped up in each other, reveling in that perfect moment, glowing with the warmth of shared love. For now, with his laughter filling the room and his arms securely around you, nothing else matters.

Jamil Viper

Jamil walks into his room, the exhaustion from managing Scarabia weighing heavily on his shoulders. But before he can even remove his shoes, you’re already there, waiting for him. Without a word, you step into his space, your arms winding around him in a gentle but firm embrace.

His body relaxes instantly, the stress of the day melting away as you run a soothing hand down his back. The warmth of your touch settles over him like a blanket, but after a few moments, he notices you haven’t let go. The silence stretches, and his concern grows.

He pulls back just slightly, searching your face with quiet intensity. “Are you okay?” His voice is soft, careful, as though bracing for something serious.

You meet his eyes with a smile, your voice tender but full of affection. “I’m fine. I just… I love you. I’m proud of everything you do. You work so hard, and I see all of it. I just wanted to be here, with you.”

A deep warmth spreads through Jamil at your words, the weight of the day almost forgotten as he pulls you back into him. This time, his hold is even tighter, more possessive, as if he’s afraid that if he lets go, this moment will vanish. His face buries itself into your neck, and he inhales deeply, breathing in the scent of you—your presence, your comfort.

For once, he allows himself to fully sink into the embrace, no longer needing to wear his usual mask.

With you, he doesn’t have to hold back his feelings. For the first time in what feels like forever, he lets his guard drop, the emotional wall he’s spent building his whole life crumbling in the warmth of your arms.

“I could stay like this forever,” he whispers, the words barely audible as he holds you close. His voice is thick with emotion, a mixture of tenderness and longing. “I never want to leave your side.”

In the comfort of your touch, Jamil realizes something. He’s never felt more at peace, more cared for, than he does in this moment. He holds you tighter, savoring the feeling of being loved so deeply, so completely. No matter what happens, he knows this is where he belongs—in your arms, and with your heart.

Vil Schoenheit

It’s been a long day, and by the time you reach Vil, all you want is to collapse into his arms. But before you can even speak, he’s already analyzing you, frowning at your slumped posture, the bags under your eyes, and the way you haven’t had time to take care of yourself. "Did you eat today? Are you even sleeping? Honestly, I can't—"

And before he can finish his lecture, you launch yourself at him, wrapping your arms tightly around his neck.

He catches you with his usual elegance, barely flinching. His lips curl in that slight, amused way, but the concern in his eyes softens as you cling to him, not letting go.

"Darling, What's wrong?" he asks, his voice taking on a gentler tone as he instinctively pulls you closer. You can feel the smoothness of his coat beneath your fingers as you bury your face in his chest.

"I missed you," you murmur. "I'm just happy to see you. I love you. And I love that you worry about me."

Vil’s chest tightens at your words, a soft, almost imperceptible sigh escaping him. He gently strokes your back, the movement slow, deliberate. “You’re something else,” he teases, his lips twitching, but there’s warmth in his voice. “You know you should’ve eaten something, and yet here you are, throwing yourself at me.”

His hands remain on you, though, pulling you closer, stroking your back with a tenderness he rarely shows in public. He may pretend to be exasperated, but the way his fingers gently brush the length of your spine betrays his true feelings. Deep down, he’s touched by how much you put up with him.

"You should be scolded for your own good," he starts, but it’s a half-hearted attempt. There’s no real bite to his words this time. Instead, he just holds you tighter, deciding that, just for tonight, you don’t need any more lectures.

“You’ll never be rid of me now,” he murmurs softly, his voice barely above a whisper. “And you’re welcome to lean on me, always.”

In the comfort of his embrace, you let go of the day’s stress, finding peace in the warmth of his arms. There’s no need for anything else, just this moment, just him.

Idia Shroud

Idia’s explaining the intricate details of a new strategy, his eyes wide with excitement. But then, suddenly, you set your controller down and throw yourself at him in an unexpected hug, effectively cutting off his speech. His hair flares a brilliant shade of pink as his brain momentarily glitches, clearly unsure of how to process what's happening.

And he is in full panic mode. His mind, always working a mile a minute, goes into overdrive trying to figure out what he did wrong, or if he's somehow messed things up.

“Uh—are you okay?” he stammers, voice filled with concern but entirely thrown off by the situation. You don’t answer with words, just a soft smile as you bury your face in his chest.

“I love you,” you whisper, “and you’re adorable.”

He’s used to being alone, to being misunderstood, to retreating into his games and hiding from the world. But here you are, in his arms, embracing him for no reason other than that you love him.

Despite his anxious thoughts swirling, he awkwardly places his arms around you, his body stiff at first, unsure of what to do. It takes him a moment before he relaxes, and as he holds you, his mind starts to clear. All those fears—of not being enough, or of being too much—slowly fade away, replaced by something that feels warm and real.

You, who listen to him ramble about things no one else would care about. You, who understand when he’s not up for going out, who accept him as he is. He feels so undeserving of someone so kind, but at the same time, something deep inside him stirs. It’s happiness. It’s love.

His arms tighten around you as he buries his face into your hair, his heart racing with a mixture of overwhelming joy and disbelief. He’ll never understand why someone like you would choose him, but as long as you’re here, he wouldn’t trade it for anything in the world.

Malleus Draconia

Malleus stands before you, holding the gargoyle he crafted with such care, the stone masterpiece shimmering in the soft light. "This is for you," he says softly, his voice full of pride. His eyes shine with the unspoken hope that you’ll appreciate the effort.

Before he can say anything else, you wrap your arms around him, pulling him into a warm embrace. He freezes for a moment, unsure, before his own arms encircle you with surprising gentleness. He’s always craved touch, but the depth of affection you offer fills him with awe.

The two of you stand there, the moment stretching on in comfortable silence, until Malleus pulls back slightly, his eyes searching your face. "Are you alright?" His voice holds a hint of concern.

You smile at him softly, your words simple but filled with a warmth he rarely hears: "You mean the world to me. I love you."

Malleus's breath catches in his throat, and before he can think, his arms tighten around you. He pulls you impossibly closer, as if afraid you’ll slip away. His heart races as he feels the weight of your love, the pure acceptance and tenderness you give him. The loneliness he’s lived with for so long, the misunderstandings, the isolation—none of it matters now.

He’s here with you. You see him, not as a prince or a fae of great power, but simply as Malleus. And that, more than anything, fills him with a kind of peace he’s never known.

Malleus buries his face in the crook of your neck, holding you tightly as if to make sure this moment doesn’t slip away. "I will never forget this," he murmurs softly. "I will cherish you... forever."

In your embrace, he finds something he thought was impossible—a sense of belonging. He smiles, feeling the warmth of your love seep into him, and he knows he is truly loved.

Masterlist

[sugoroo]

ʚɞ warnings: fem!reader, looking up skirt, panty stealing + sniffing + licking, masturbation, professional misconduct, 18+ minors dni.

pervy electrician!toji who unintentionally shows up a little earlier at your house than he was supposed to and is rewarded with the sight of a very unprepared you hurriedly rushing to answer the door in just a baggy t-shirt and a pair of fuzzy socks.

pervy electrician!toji whose usual disinterested expression he has permanently plastered upon his features during work hours morphs into one of subtle interest as his dark eyes leisurely drag up and down your figure — and damn, he never gets sent out to clients as hot as you.

pervy electrician!toji who greets you with a simple nod as he brushes past you to get inside, his scarred lips involuntarily twitching up into an amused half-smile at how you ramble out several apologies for not being ready for his arrival.

pervy electrician!toji who casually waves it off and assures you that he doesn't mind; and he definitely doesn't mind when it means that he gets to watch you walk around in front of him wearing that shirt that barely even covers your ass.

pervy electrician!toji who is as well-mannered as he has to be when conversing with a customer, but makes sure to inject a little more charm into his voice just for you as he drawls out "well, what seems to be the problem, ma'am?"

pervy electrician!toji who silently pats himself on the back when he notices you grow slightly flustered at the polite term he used to address you by, leaning against your kitchen counter as he watches you explain the issues you've had with your power frequently cutting out lately.

pervy electrician!toji who has to make a concerted effort to bite back a scoff when you explain that despite being married, your useless husband has no idea how to fix the problem himself so you had no choice but to resort to calling his company.

pervy electrician!toji who can hardly even comprehend that your sorry excuse for a husband just went to work for the day and left a precious thing like you here with no power; some fools really don't know how good they have it, do they?

pervy electrician!toji who finds a rare, genuine smile pulling at his lips when you joke lightly that you'd make him a cup of coffee if there was any power for the kettle. so you're pretty as hell and you have a good sense of humour... oh, he's in trouble.

pervy electrician!toji who investigates the fuse box located at the back of the cupboard under the kitchen sink while you dash upstairs to change into something more appropriate, humming a quiet tune under his breath while he works.

pervy electrician!toji who figures out what the issue is in no time at all — there's a small leak dripping from the pipe leading from the bottom of the sink that has trickled down and fried some of the wiring; shouldn't be too hard to fix.

but for some reason, he finds himself wanting to create a reason for him to stay around here just a little longer.

so, pervy electrician!toji 'accidentally' makes the leak even worse by using the spanner on his tool belt to stretch the hole in the pipe slightly wider, causing any working part left in the fuse box to fizzle out into uselessness as a result.

pervy electrician!toji who has to pretend to be inconvenienced by the problem that he just worsened once you return to the kitchen, scratching the side of his jaw and telling you that it'll take him atleast a couple of hours to try and salvage the fuse box.

pervy electrician!toji who isn't exactly lying when he says this; just refraining from telling you the whole truth that there is no way to fix the ruined thing now. the entire box has to be replaced and he doesn't happen to have a new one with him today.

...looks like he'll just have to come back tomorrow, too.

pervy electrician!toji who keeps himself busy pretending to attempt to mend things under the cupboard, but finds it quite hard not to be distracted by your pretty self sitting atop the counter where you insisted on staying to keep him company while he works.

but, at the end of the day, pervy electrician!toji is a man, after all — a man who can't help himself from sneaking a quick peek up the edge of the skirt you changed into, holding back a groan when he catches a small glimpse of your patterned panties.

pervy electrician!toji who claims he needs to use your bathroom a little while later, making sure you don't follow him up the stairs before sneaking through the hall until he finds you and your husband's shared bedroom.

pervy electrician!toji who finds himself rifling through his client's underwear drawer like a damn horny teenager, hastily pulling out a pair of cute panties similar the ones he knows you're wearing downstairs right now.

pervy electrician!toji who is way too worked up to feel any sense of shame as he pushes his baggy work trousers down, exposing the extremely noticeable tent and subsequent wet patch staining the front of his boxers.

"fuckin' hell," pervy electrician!toji rasps as he shoves a hand into his boxers, wrapping it around the base of his painfully throbbing cock as he begins languidly stroking himself. "driving me crazy here, girl." he mutters to himself.

pervy electrician!toji who can't stop himself from holding your panties up to his face, cursing under his breath when he remembers that these are a clean pair from your drawer. no — he needs a used pair if he wants to be able to properly get off.

pervy electrician!toji who sifts through your laundry hamper like a starving man searching for scraps of food in a dumpster, his movements fuelled by the sheer need to release the overwhelming desire coursing through his veins.

pervy electrician!toji whose scarred lips twitch up into a victorious smirk when he finally finds a dirty pair of your panties, wasting no time in pressing his nose against the slick-stained crotch and inhaling your scent. and fuck, is it an intoxicating smell.

pervy electrician!toji who is utterly pussydrunk without even being near your actual cunt, tongue instinctively flicking out on its own to lap lightly at the soiled material, a pornographic moan falling from his lips afterwards.

"shit. tastes s-so sweet, heh." pervy electrician!toji grunts as he resumes those earnest tugs of his furiously hard cock, his sloppy mouth just coating your dirty panties with his glistening salvia.

pervy electrician!toji who is cumming in record time like a downright pathetic and touch-starved virgin, one press of his thick thumb against his weeping tip causing it to spill rope after rope of milky release into his boxers.

pervy electrician!toji who does actually go to the bathroom after he's pulled his trousers up and shoved both pairs of stolen panties into his pockets, cleaning himself up as best he can and checking his reflection in the mirror to make sure he doesn't look too wrecked.

pervy electrician!toji who saunters downstairs and faces you with an easy smile as if he didn't just jerk off with your used underwear pressed against his mouth, sharing the news that he'll 'unfortunately' have to return tomorrow to replace the broken fuse box.

pervy electrician!toji who tells you his usual bill for the basic work he's done today, although secretly gives you a considerable discount — one because it's you, and two because he didn't actually do anything to fix your power issue and instead deliberately made it worse so he could stay longer.

pervy electrician!toji who releases an amused chuckle when you frantically dart around the house in search of your purse, coming to the sheepish conclusion that you must've left it in your husband's car that he drove to work this morning with.

pervy electrician!toji who simply shrugs and suggests that you pay him when he comes by tomorrow instead. little do you know, however, that you've already paid him... just in the form of an orgasm and two pairs of panties instead of money.

pervy electrician!toji who is counting down the seconds until he can see you again as he drives home in the company van, body relaxed and sated from his previous climax and pockets stuffed pleasantly full with stolen underwear.

he'd say that was all in good day's work.

© 2024 SUGOROO. please don't copy or translate any of my works without my explicit permission. all rights are reserved to me.

LIKES AND REBLOGS APPRECIATED!

pervy lifeguard!gojo <- PREVIOUS PART.

[ode2rin]

new boyfriend rin would never ever, under any circumstance, admit that he likes the pet names you call him. well… unless you would stop doing it. (also me pushing the bffs to lovers pipeline)

You must be upset with him, Rin is convinced so. It’s the only logical and sensible explanation behind this unusual behavior. 

And he's going mad about it. Itoshi Rin is going mad any second now if he can't get to the bottom of this, he’s certainly convinced.

Every instinct screamed that your recent behavior was a reaction to something he'd done, but what? Was it the late replies to your text messages? No, you knew he was at practice and you told him you didn’t mind. Was it about the souvenir he brought back home to you from Paris? Sure, you teased him about its impracticality, but nothing that warranted this icy distance.

Or maybe it was something he said now? It must be, right? Everything boils down to his reckless poor choice of words, he supposes.

Slowly, Rin approached you by the couch you’re seated in. With your attention preoccupied by the selection of shows you’re browsing, you settled on looking at him briefly through your peripheral vision. Amused by how he’s slightly tiptoeing around, you let out a half-suppressed laugh to yourself. 

He looks like a cat sometimes, you thought from the sight. And acts like one too. Like a big black cat who would hiss at you if you looked at him funny, or one that would bite your hand if you stopped petting him to sleep. Funny how Rin could be like that too.

The moment Rin settles into the plush comfort of the couch, he gazes at you through lowered lashes, trying to read the play of emotions on your face, if there’s any. 

There’s nothing worth noting, and he doesn’t know if that should assure or bother him.

“Are we… alright?” he drawled.

What the fuck. He did not just sound like that. 

He did not just ask that and sounded like an anxious pathetic wet cat who just had a new home waiting for its owner’s permission over anything (highly specific because he’s a bit dramatic). Just what kind of loser have you reduced him into, really.

Oblivious of the internal turmoil in Rin’s mind, you turn to him, “Hmm? Yeah? Why’d you ask?”

“Nothing,” he grumbled. It’s enough that he already humiliated himself for the way he asked if the two of you were cool— doing it again by exposing himself that he thinks you’re mad plainly because he hadn’t heard you call him a pet name (like you always do) would be mortification in its final form.

“Okay, Rin.”

That’s it. This needs to end. Forget humiliation. He would rather choose to feel pathetic over any day than continue with this charade.

“Are you mad at me?” 

“Why would you think that?” you asked back instantly, shocked and extremely confused because of your boyfriend’s question. You’re literally just looking for a movie the two of you can watch— how is that any indication of being mad at him?

“Just answer the question,” he fumed, impatience settling on the furrow of his brows.

You said in the beginning of your relationship that you didn’t appreciate the silent treatment and guessing games, so don’t you think it’s hypocritical of you to do the same to him? (You’re not, but he just doesn’t know that.)

“I’m not mad at you, Rin.”

“You so are!” 

“I am not! But you, yelling and instigating it are making me right now!” you countered, voice hinted with irritation, “What is your problem, Rin?”

There it is again. Rin rose from the couch to face your sitting form, as if standing would better prove his point. “See? You’re calling me Rin!” he blurted.

“Well, maybe because it’s your name?!”

“Not to you, it’s not!”

A beat of surprised silence. Until your lips grew to such a wide smile that made Rin physically feel his heart melting. 

Yet, in Rin’s true fashion, he’ll never let you know how much air you knock out of him because of your beaming smile. Instead, he’ll say something along the snarky lines of, “Stop smiling like that.”

“Did my big bad grumpy Rinnie here thought we’re on a fight because I hadn’t call him baby?” you ask, purposely stressing out the words to disarm him more.

With a feigned exasperation, he comments, “I forgot how annoying you are.” 

“And I forgot how childish you can get sometimes,” you countered.

“I’m not childish.”

“You don’t mind me calling you Rin then?”

Rin rolled his eyes at you, but you know better than to put meaning to it. He lowered himself onto the couch beside you. With a swift tug, Rin pulled you closer, closing the distance between you effortlessly. His arm found its way around your waist, drawing you snugly against his chest.

“But I don’t see why you need to…” Maybe he could be a bit childish.

“I thought you didn’t like it,” you shyly muttered, drawing shapes in his arm. “The pet names, I mean,” you clarified, sensing the confused look he’s probably giving you behind.

“What the hell are you talking about?” He is baby. He is Rinnie. Fucking hell, that’s so loser of him to even voice it out in his own mind. 

“What? You call me by my name!” you defensively pointed out.

“Doesn’t mean I don’t like your nicknames of me,” he mumbled, the words barely audible.

The pet names— they were more than what they served. It was important to him more than what he would admit. 

They were a secret language, a way you marked him as yours. A reminder that he wasn't just Rin anymore— just your friend.

He was now something more, something special.

A ghost of a smile tugged at the corner of his lips. “Besides… I love your name,” he whispered, his voice velvet against your hair.

It’s tender— no, it makes him tender. Saying your name has been the softest, kindest, and most tender way he’s used his words for. 

Maybe it’s a little pathetic, feeling this undone by a name. But then it’s you. 

It was your name— a name he could whisper with adoration, a name that belonged only to him to claim. 

You melt to his words, leaning deeper into his chest. A contented sigh escaped your lips, the sound swallowed by the warmth of his embrace.

Looking up at him, your eyes held a softness he often found himself getting lost in, “I love your name too, but I also like calling you pet names. Is it okay?”

“Whatever you decide.” He’s yours, either way.

note. this is basically rin being "my nameeee is whatever you decideeeee and i'm just gonna call you mineeee i'm insane but i'm your baby!!!!" yeah that song basically.

[galaxy-stardust]

Simon Ghost Riley x you

You're mad at him...

The door to your bedroom closed with a sharp click, the sound echoing in the tense silence. You crossed your arms and stood by the window, glaring at the city lights as if they were responsible for your irritation. Behind you, Simon leaned casually against the doorframe, his arms folded over his broad chest, watching you with an amused glint in his dark eyes.

“You’re still mad,” he stated simply, his voice calm and rough like gravel, as if your simmering anger was nothing more than an amusing distraction.

“Yes, I’m still mad!” you snapped, not turning to face him. “You can’t just disappear for days without telling me anything, Simon. I was worried.”

His silence dragged on for a moment, and when he spoke again, his tone was lighter, teasing. “You worried about me, love? Or did you just miss me too much?”

You spun around, glaring at him. “Don’t do that. Don’t try to charm your way out of this. I’m serious.”

But his smirk only deepened as he pushed off the door and slowly walked toward you, his tall frame practically radiating confidence. “I’m not charming my way out of anything,” he said, his voice dropping to that low, intimate tone that always made your pulse quicken. “I’m just stating the facts. You missed me. Admit it.”

You held your ground, even as your breath hitched when he stopped just inches away, towering over you. “Even if I did, it doesn’t matter. I’m still angry.”

His gloved hand brushed along your jaw, his touch featherlight but enough to send a shiver down your spine. “You’re adorable when you’re angry,” he murmured, his thumb grazing your bottom lip.

“Stop it,” you whispered, though your voice betrayed the weakening resolve in your chest.

“Stop what?” he teased, leaning closer, his breath warm against your cheek. “Stop reminding you how much you want me?”

Your cheeks flushed with heat, and you hated how easily he could see through you. “You’re insufferable,” you muttered, trying to step away, but his hands caught your waist, pulling you flush against him.

“Maybe,” he said, his lips brushing against your ear, “but you love it.”

You opened your mouth to protest, but the words dissolved into a gasp as his lips trailed down your neck, his teeth grazing your skin just enough to make your knees feel weak.

“Simon,” you breathed, your anger melting under the intensity of his touch.

“Say it,” he murmured, his hands gripping your hips, his voice thick with that commanding edge that made your heart race.

“Say what?” you asked, your voice shaky.

“That you want me,” he growled, his lips claiming yours in a kiss that was fierce and unrelenting, leaving you no choice but to melt into him.

When he finally pulled back, his forehead rested against yours, a smug smile tugging at his lips. “Thought so.”

You glared at him half-heartedly, your hands gripping his shirt to keep him close. “You’re impossible,” you whispered.

“And you’re mine,” he replied, his voice soft but possessive. “No matter how mad you are, you always will be.”

And as much as you hated to admit it, he was absolutely right.

[deadsetobsessions]

“Danny!” Tim comes screeching into the Lavender Room. Bruce had it built and decorated for him when Danny had expressed interest in lurking on the manor grounds. They were an odd bunch, these Bats. They’d even taken to leaving him fresh cream and freshly baked loaves of bread on the built in counter. Interesting choice.

“Little Sparrow. What is it?” Danny moved, long strides just a bit off as he approached the frantic pseudo Robin. The kid clung to him as much as he was frantically tugging Danny to the main manor.

“It’s Bruce! He’s being controlled! I don’t know-” Danny scooped Tim up and pulled on that otherness the bubbled beneath his veins. They melded into shadows and emerged to the other side, sequestered a hidden alcove overlooking the Batcave.

The sounds of blows being traded echoed, bouncing weirdly off of the screeching bats. Danny loved it. He peered down as Nightwing slammed an elbow onto his mentor’s face before doing a twisty maneuver a naga would have approved of to kick him in the throat.

Some of those hits are harder than Danny expected. Both Danny and Tim caught the glint of an unhinged grin playing at Nightwing’s lips.

“It seems Dick has this well in hand, little sparrow,” Danny lowered his voice, amusement sparking like grinding steel behind his eyes.

“…He might be working out some stuff.” Tim admitted, wincing as mind controlled Bruce took a crushing blow to the ribs.

“If that ‘stuff’ consists of repressed anger, yes.” Danny sighed admiringly as Nightwing screamed in Bruce’s face before kicking him viciously in the ankle. “Perhaps I’ll step in, hm, little sparrow?”

Tim’s grip tightened on his sleeve before releasing. “Better you than me.”

Danny hummed, drawing a little more from his otherness to appear directly before Bruce.

“That’s enough, Jwenar.”

“Awe,” it was disconcerting to hear a high pitched voice coming from “I eat gravel and Alfred’s honey oatmeal for breakfast” Batman. “Come on Danny! I was just having a bit o’ fun! He’d have gotten his body back!”

“When? In ninety years? Out, Jwenar. I won’t say it again,” Danny sternly pointed away from Bruce, eyes flashing green. Behind him, Dick was trying to look like he wasn’t disappointed his beat down had been interrupted.

“Ugh,” Jwenar sulked, detaching themselves from Bruce’s neck. The little mosquito like fae snarled. “Next time, then.”

“There will be no next time.” Danny scolded, before swatting them so hard, they rocketed back into the Wilds.

“… Was it necessary to hit me that hard, Dick?” Bruce wearily asked, holding his broken nose.

“I don’t know, B, was it necessary to withhold Jason’s death from me?” Dick asked sweetly. Danny rumbled with laughter.

He liked these Bats, feral as they were.

His mouth stretched into a sharp, sharp, sharp grin.

He thinks he’ll keep them.