#its pretty clear who its aimed at

[jonnywaistcoat]

how much do i have to pay you so that you can at least ATTEMPT to add frebby fazbear into the magnus protocol

This tickles me a bit, because thinking about it, we have kinda done some mascot horror in Protocol, but whereas chuck-e-cheese is the archetypical American version, we've drawn horror out of a 90s British mascot. And I'm pretty confident which of the two is more fucked up.

Five Nights at Freddie's does interest, though - I grew up when there was quite a rich array of horror stories aimed at kids: Goosebumps, Are You Afraid of the Dark, the Point Horror books. Now it seems like a lot of that stuff have been supplanted by franchises like Five Nights at Freddie's, which is aimed at kids but marketed as though it's not, and does a lot to try and launder its intended audience. It's interesting to me, though I don't feel like I have a well-developed thesis about it.

[thepenguinflash]

Did I say the chibnall era was bad?

I said it has problems. Every era of doctor who has problems. I adore RTD's first era, but there were some terrible episodes. And his treatment of Martha was awful. Moffat wrote some brilliant stand alone episodes. But I'm definitely not the only person that hates his overarching plots. I haven't seen enough of classic who to have any meaningful opinions on its eras, but I know for a fact they weren't perfect either.

My overall opinion on the chibnall era is pretty neutral. It had its moments, and (with the exception of series 11) I genuinely enjoyed a lot of it. There's some writing choices I didn't personally vibe with. And there's a few that were just objectively not good writing. That's not to say you can't enjoy those writing choices anyway. But you can sometimes say something was objectively not well written.

Anyway, character limit in tags makes it kinda hard to get my full feelings about the chibnall era across. Sorry if it came across like I was shitting on the whole era, cos I do genuinely think it's better than a lot of fans give it credit for. I did just leave my thoughts in the tags cos I didn't wanna make it a whole thing but here we are.

Some people online: So glad to see Doctor Who being fun and campy again! This previous era was too serious!

The previous era:

[risuola]

FEELIN' LUCKY || GETO SUGURU

Suguru has a reputation of a playboy — and rightfully so. He likes to change girls, bedding them as he pleases. He thinks he can have them all. He's a player, a red flag and you show him he's wrong. It's a story about a boy who has everything but craves to have you.

contains: frat boy!suguru x nerdy!reader, pining, maybe a little slowburn-ish, flirting, smut (unprotected sex, some body worship, mentions of hooking up, booty calls, sexting), wc. 9420 ⋯ reader discretion is advised

kinktober '24 masterlist || art in the header: @/chu-cho on tumblr

Suguru knows how to navigate around the campus. He’s tried all the shortcuts, been on all the parties, talked (and fought) with all the teachers. He’s known around — troublemaker, a frat boy, a heartbreaker. It’s no news to anyone that Suguru Geto is a red flag personified; a ladies’ man, playing with every beauty he deems worthy of attention. And he’s lucky too, girls tend to love him, all of them. After all, bad girls love bad boys and good girls, unfortunately, do too. He’s a flame that attracts all the moths, a sin that tempts and renders every heart helpless. He’s a siren song luring women towards their doom. The ultimate playboy, reveling in the attention he gets everywhere he shows up, soaking it up like a cat basking in the sun.

It’s unfair, he jokes sometimes, when he aims to add another notch to his bedpost. Unfair how easy it is for him to have what he wants, how all that meets his gaze is heart-eyes and flushed cheeks. But he likes it, he likes to take, he likes to be wanted and pick from the crowd. It boosts his ego. He is, after all, drop dead gorgeous. He is, truly, with his long, raven hair and purple glint to his eyes, all surrounded by an air of sexy danger coming from his piercings, his clothes and the way he acts.

“Who’s that?” He wonders, mind rushing through the extensive catalogue of female students he knows. “She’s new.” Clearly. He doesn’t know you yet.

You’re pretty, too pretty for him to let you go just like that. You came to the party at the frat house, but you don’t seem to fit right in. Maybe you’re a transfer student? Or a friend of someone? It doesn’t look like you’re someone’s girlfriend. A man that’s sane would not let you wander around such place alone. Not in that dress. You’re gorgeous, breathtaking. You make Suguru’s heart beat a little bit faster, his pulse quickening and he can hear it in his ears, a steady thump echoing over the sound of music. It’s excitement — something he has not felt in a long time.

His friends say something. He’s not listening, eyes laser focused on you and only you. You move with grace, your hips sway from side to side like a pendulum as you find your way through the crowded living room. Your cup is empty, it’s clear from the way you tap it with your fingernail every time someone tries to stop you — you’re pointing on it, gesturing your intentions as you try to speak over the loud music and blurring chatter. You seem polite too, the way you smile brightens the area. He likes how it reaches your eyes, how your nose scrunches a little and the skin near your temples crinkle. Everything about you is hypnotizing, you know what you’re doing. You have to know what you’re doing. You’re magnetic and he wouldn’t be able to resist even if he wanted to.

He doesn’t.

You push through the crowd and Suguru follows, a predator stalking its prey. You are, after all, like a sweet little rabbit tonight. His eyes never leave your back, watching the way your hair sways and bounces with each step you take, how the fabric of your dress hugs your delectable curves. You look soft, he’d love to touch you, to squeeze those plush thighs, to feel the pliable flesh of your rear, to have your chest squeezed against the hard planes of his muscular torso. He wonders how soft your skin is under the fabric, if it’s smooth and warm to touch. He wants to find out, to explore every inch of it until he maps out every mole, scar and birthmark. He licks his lips subconsciously, his tongue swiping over the piercing in his lower lip and he wonders if you’d like it ��� if the cold metal decorating his mouth would be something you’re into.

He catches you in the kitchen. You’re holding a can of strawberry flavored soda and looking around, and he knows what you’re searching for. “Hey there, beautiful,” he greets smoothly, flashing you a smile that’s known for making girls weak in the knees. “Allow me,” he reaches, taking the cold metal from your hands — his fingers brush against yours as your eyes met, the touch lingering a little longer than necessary but he’s content as he swiftly opens the can for you, earning himself a chuckle.

He’s already got you.

“Thank you,” you smile, taking the drink back and filling your cup with the pinkish liquid. It smells sweet, the delicate aroma of artificial fruit breaking through the typical mixture of sweat and alcohol that fills the room. It’s refreshing, the scent, the look of bubbles dancing at the edges of your cup. You take a sip, tasting the flavor on your tongue and he wants to try it too. From your lips, preferably. Those glistening, cherry-colored lips. Oh, you look delectable.

“I’m Suguru,” he grins again, his eyes scanning your breathtaking features and committing the picture to memory. “I don’t think we’ve met before.” He already envisions you below him.

“I doubt that too,” you nod and you know he’s attracted to you. It’s clear from the way he looks at you, eats you with his eyes only. Obvious from how his gaze lingers on your lips a little longer than he should but you allow him. You introduce himself too and he repeats, testing the name on his tongue.

“What brings a gorgeous woman like you to our little shindig?” He extends his hand out to shake yours, his thumb brushing over your delicate skin as his touch lingers.

“I got invited by one of my friends but I can’t seem to find her in this crowd. I’m sure she’s having fun somewhere though, it’s alright,” you explain, briefly looking over the students crowded in the main area of the house. Most of them are drunk already despite the quite early hour but you don’t mind it. A frat party is exactly what you expected it to be. “I wouldn’t honestly dare to call this a little shindig.”

Suguru chuckles lowly, the sound rumbling in his chest. “Well, I suppose ‘little’ was an understatement,” he grins and sips on his own drink. “How do you like it so far? Do you enjoy the mingling masses and blasting music or maybe I could steal you away? My room is just upstairs.” His eyes flick down to your lips once more before meeting your gaze again, a hint of mischief dancing in their violet depths. One step closer and he’s invading your personal space just slightly. “Because I could show you a good time, if you’d like. Just the two of us, away from all that noise and chaos,” he finishes a little quieter, a little lower. His tone is meant to seduce, to tempt you and he knows it always works. In his mind, he’s already alone with you, he imagines tracing your curves as he trails kisses along your jawline. His touch feels electric against your skin and you have to give him that — he sure does know how to get the attention he wants.

“I appreciate the offer, but I came here for the noise and the chaos,” you reply, smiling as your hand finds his wrist in a gentle caress meant to put some distance between his fingertips and your skin. “It’s not every day I get to attend a party such as this one,” that said, you’re ready to retract when his free hand meets the curve of your hip. You hear a hum and he’s suddenly much closer, you feel his breath on your lips, a mixture of mint and something strongly alcoholic. A little sweet too. A coke, maybe. There’s warmth bouncing off of him, one that you feel tingling on your skin when he leans down to meet your height. The tip of his nose teases yours before it moves to the side, running over the lines of your cheekbone.

“Are you sure?” He asks, smirking as he waits for your resolve to crumble. Not a single girl before you had resisted his charms and you surely are not going to be the first. He enjoys the challenge you present. Most girls would have melted under his touch but you remain composed. He likes that. He likes a woman who knows what she wants. “We could make our own noise, create our own chaos.”

“I’m content with all that’s happening here,” you hum, slipping out of his embrace. “Thank you for the company, Suguru. It was nice to meet you,” and you’re gone.

He stands there, dumbfounded. He stands there, once more looking at your back and he cannot believe what happened. A bunny that slipped from the hands of a wolf, girl that rejected Suguru’s charms, A moth that said no to the flames of his lust. A challenge he’s not going to pass on.

He smirks.

Before, he just wanted to have you.

Now, he has to have you.

And he will do whatever it takes.

Over the next weeks, Suguru has not given up. He hasn’t been able to get you out of his head, his interest in you hasn’t diminished; if anything, it’s grown stronger with each passing day. He’s determined to unravel the enigma that is you, to uncover the secrets hidden behind your captivating eyes and sweet smile. There’s something about you that made him desperate. A mystery he cannot quite unravel, a puzzle he can’t solve. And he thinks of you. He finds himself lost in thoughts of you more often than he’d care to admit. He spots you around campus occasionally, always looking effortlessly stunning and each time, he feels that familiar pull, that undeniable attraction that draws him to you.

Maybe it’s him, who’s the moth.

He doesn’t like this. How you always brush his advances off, how sweetly you smile while doing so. Every time he wants to touch you, you slip right through his fingers. You have tainted him with longing he has never felt before, you ruined him. He doesn’t want other women anymore, the line of booty-calls and flings blocked and removed from his phone. The nights he spends thinking of you, fucking his fist and swearing to all gods above and below to change, asking for a chance to sink his teeth into you. Because he doesn’t want anyone else. And he doesn’t know what you have done to him.

“Fancy seeing you there,” he remarks, settling himself beside you on the bench outside the library. The afternoon is particularly sunny, warmth caressing your skin as you sit comfortably, engrossed in a book. “Mind if I join you?” He asks, but he doesn’t wait for the response, as he leans over to glance at the title of your read. “Ah, philosophy. A deep thinker, huh? I like that.”

“Do you?” You ask, nudging a bookmark between the pages. “You don’t strike me as a philosophical type. You seem to me more of a live-in-the-moment kinda guy.”

He chuckles. “You’d be surprised,” he replies, his tone light and teasing, “there’s more to me than just good looks and undeniable charm. Although, I won’t deny that those are pretty great assets,” he winks playfully. Suguru leans back on the bench, stretching his long legs out in front of him. The ripped, black denim exposes a bit of his thigh, the ink of his tattoos peeking through the dark threads, drawing your attention.

“Oh, the confidence. It’s much more valuable trait than the outside looks,” you hum, leaning against the backrest too.

Geto laughs, a rich, warm sound that carries easily in the quiet outdoor setting. Then, he turns to face you fully, his expression turning serious for a moment. “But you’re right, I’m not usually one for heavy books and deep discussions. I prefer to keep things light and fun.” It’s a confession, he admits to it with a hint of vulnerability that’s quickly pushed behind his typical grin. “Besides, a guy can learn a thing or two from a smart, beautiful woman like yourself.” He flirts, but there’s an underlying sincerity to his words. He leans in closer, his voice dropping to a murmur. “Tell me, what’s so captivating about this particular tome? What insights does it hold to have captured your attention so thoroughly?”

“It’s a tale of a man discovering what really matters in modern life, a story of loss and reconciliation. The narrator, whose days are counted due to sudden diagnosis, meets the Devil who offers him an extra day of life in exchange of making one thing in the world disappear,” you explain briefly and he watches your fingers dancing over the front cover of the book, tracing the lines of the simple graphic of a cat. “There comes the question, how do you separate out what you can do without from what you hold dear? I think it’s something we don’t pay much attention to in our lives because we have everything within reach, but what if something just… disappeared? The narrator has to take responsibility for each one of his decisions. There’s no going back, there never will be, once a thing is gone, it’s gone.”

Suguru listens intently, his expression thoughtful as he absorbs your words. “That’s quite… It makes you think, doesn’t it?” He muses, nodding slowly. “It makes you wonder what you’d choose to erase if given a chance to live just a day longer.”

“The question of how to decide what’s okay to remove and what’s not is what makes me think the most,” you look up. The day is beautiful today, fluffy clouds travel sparsely over the azure blue sky, the sun warms your skin with its golden rays and the birds sing, hidden within the crowns of the nearby trees. You hear some chatter, somewhere from the distance where other students pass by, you hear the cars that honk impatiently as they stand in the traffic and you hear a dog barking. There’s a park not far away. “Some things that are insignificant to me might be the entire world to someone else.”

“So you think the burden of consequences might outweigh the price of life itself,” he notes, his eyes studying the lines of your profile. Your eyes, reflecting the blue of the sky, your cheeks flushed from the wind and sunrays. He thinks the color of your scarf makes your complexion looks brighter. “I don’t know if I would be capable of eradicating something from the world permanently. At first, I thought it might be easy, just get rid of something small and simple, but then it made me wonder if things I think are unimportant, truly are so.”

Truth is, Suguru doesn’t think he would dwell much about the topic if not you, but he wonders what if. What if he made a decision that would cause a war? Or someone else’s loss? What if a thing that he picks results in him not meeting you?

“That’s what philosophy does to you,” you chuckle, turning your gaze back to him, just to meet his eyes glued to yourself.

“But maybe that’s what makes life worth living,” he turns to you fully, his eyes wondering as he drops his usual playfulness and mischief. “It’s much easier to pretend we have control over our lives and the world around us rather than confront the harsh truth that we are all just tiny cogs in a vas, unpredictable machine. But maybe it’s the uncertainty, the constant surprises, the knowledge that anything can change in an instant what makes the journey worth the effort.”

“Maybe it is,” you nod, taking a moment to let his words sink in. “I wouldn’t expect you to engage in topics such as this. I apologize,” you offer a smile and he melts.

“You know, most people assume I’m just a pretty face. They don’t expect me to have substance beneath the surface,” he muses, his expression turning thoughtful before he lets out a breathy chuckle. “I guess I do give them the reasons to do so. But I really enjoy talking to you. It’s nice to have conversations that aren’t just surface-level flirting and innuendos. There’s just something about you...” He trails off, reaching out tentatively, brushing a stray lock of hair behind your ear. His fingers linger against your skin for a moment before falling away. “I like how you challenge me, make me think deeper than I usually do. You are a puzzle I can’t wait to solve.” His gaze locks with yours, his expression open and vulnerable in a way you haven’t seen from him before. “Can I see you again? Like this, I mean. Just talking, getting to know each other better.”

The question hangs heavy in the air as you consider it. You will meet him again, one way or another, somewhere around the campus or at another frat party. You will see him again as he targets another girl, flirting his way into another pair of panties. And you exhale, your lips curving upwards slightly as you lean your head on your fist, elbow on your knee.

“Suguru,” you begin, his name slipping over your tongue with ease you enjoy. But you know better than this. You have seen it all too well how he treats women. “I enjoy conversing with you and if it’s just talk that you want from me, then I will find time to meet you again. But I need you to know that I will not allow myself to be another notch on your bedpost. It’s easy to get swayed by your charms, but I know your reputation and I know it for sure that if I had to give up one thing in the world, it would never be self-respect.”

And he knows for sure that if he had to give up romance for the rest of his life just to have you, he wouldn’t think twice about it.

“I don’t want to charm my way between your legs,” he swears, too quickly, too desperate to make himself believable and he groans, annoyed by his own self. He nervously runs his hand through his dark, raven hair. “Just, please, give me a chance. I won’t lie to your face and say that I’m suddenly ready to settle down or that I’m done sowing my wild oats entirely. I know what kind of reputation I have and I can’t deny that I’ve played the field more times than I can count. I’ve earned it fair and square,” he admits, his voice tinged with a hint of bitterness. All of the lustful nights flashed before his eyes, the nameless girls, the empty promises and unanswered calls afterwards. All the nudes, all the sexts, all the quickies in the locker rooms and dingy bathrooms. Suguru would give them all away if only earned a chance to be with you. “I want to change. I already started to change. You don’t have to believe me right away, but you are different. From the moment I laid eyes on you, I knew there was something special about you. And I won’t lie that I’m not attracted to you physically. That would be impossible. But there’s more to it than that. Something worth pursuing beyond just a one-night stand.”

“And what change are you talking about?” You quiz. “Because as far as I am concerned, I’ve seen you flirting with some girls just yesterday.”

And he winces, unable to deny your accusation. “You’re right, I did flirt with them. It’s become a second nature to me, a habit I can’t seem to break easily.” He sighs heavily, running a hand through his hair once more, frustrated. “But it didn’t go further than talk. I didn’t… I’ve stopped sleeping around. I blocked and removed all the girls’ numbers from my phone, deleted the pictures I had. Fuck, I even declined an invitation for a party with my pals, for the first time since high school. Look,” he leans in, his eyes locked with yours and his hand finds yours. You feel his thumb rubbing soft circles on your knuckles and you wonder if it’s to soothe you or himself. “Being with you, talking to you… it’s opened my eyes to what I have been missing out on. I’ve spent so long chasing meaningless encounters, never allowing myself to form real connections with anyone and now, I’ve tasted something more substantial and realized just how hollow my previous pursuits have been. I want to do better. For you, yes, but also for myself. I want to prove to you that I’m capable of more than just cheap thrills and empty promises.”

It’s true, everything he says. He is ready to drop the player mask, to shed his frat repute just to have a chance at something real, something that makes his heart flutter in his chest and his stomach bubble with butterflies. He is ready to say no to easy sex just to fight for your attention, your touch, your heart.

He is genuine, but you just hum, your expression unreadable as you weigh your next words. You like him desperate. You like how his violet eyes sparkle with puppy-like vulnerability rather than a flirty mischief. And he is beautiful, you cannot deny it — a man of impressive built, clad in ripped jeans and leather, heavy boots and a band tee. He looks like he bites, and you know he does. You take in the sight of his piercings, the large gauges, the snake bites in his lower lip, the piercing across the bridge of his nose, right between his captivating eyes and the one right above his left brow. You wonder what kissing him would feel like. Would the metal come in the way? Or maybe it would add to the experience?

“I’m not sure what to tell you,” you sigh. “I will give you a chance if you think you can change. But you’ll need to prove it. Think about it.”

And he did.

The lonely nights he spends at the frat house, laying in bed instead of partying with his friends, he wonders where the path of his change will lead him. What if it’s him, confronting the devil and having a chance to lose himself just to earn a day with you? He thinks he’d take it. He’s sure he would. He flips on the mattress, his eyes squinting as the lights from his phone blinded him with a new message. An unknown number. He opens it, it’s a picture, a bare body that he recognizes by the butterfly tattoo on the ribcage. A nude from one of his exes. She must have gotten a new number because he remembers vividly how he blocked her. Usually, he wouldn’t think twice about it, he’d reply with something cheeky, possibly send an explicit picture of himself, maybe set up a meeting or invite her over. His fingers typed the message before his brain managed to intervene and once he hit ‘send’, he cursed out loud.

“Fuck, you idiot!”

A pillow flew across the room as he stared at the ceiling. Would it hurt to go once more with no strings attached? It’s been some time since he’s gotten laid and the vision of tension coming off of him was a temptation beyond measure. But what about you? What about a change he had promised?

Is the change even for him?

Suguru stares at his phone screen, the message he sent glowing mockingly back at him, a shameful reminder of his weak self-restraint. The girl already replied, they always reply so fast, and he doesn’t know what to do. He knows he fucked up, he knows he shouldn’t have responded. He shouldn’t have even entertained the idea of hooking up with his ex, or any other girl. It goes against everything he told you, everything he promised.

With a heavy sigh, he tosses his phone aside, despite the notifications flooding his inbox. More pictures, the location, the time — an annoying ding makes his blood boil and he groans, burying his face in his hands. He feels conflicted, torn between his desire for physical release and growing feelings for you. He wants to be better, to be the man you deserve, to be the man that deserves you. He wants to prove to you that he’s serious about changing, but old habits die hard. The temptation is still there, lurking in the shadows of his mind, waiting for a split second of vulnerability.

He tosses and turns in bed. His thoughts race with the pictures of you, his mind replaying every conversation, every shared laugh and stolen touch. He remembers the way your eyes sparkled when you discussed philosophy, the passion in your voice as you told him about the importance of self-respect. He realizes that those moments were more fulfilling than any other fleeting pleasure he’s experienced before.

But he gets up anyway, he pulls up his dark-washed jeans and a hoodie, socks and boots and he’s ready to go. With a jacket grabbed in the hallway and a phone in his hand, he leaves the house. The crisp air of near winter hits him the moment he steps outside, cooling the blood in his veins and clearing his thoughts.

12 unread messages.

He groans again, this time into the nightly silence as he strides through the pavement, legs leading him in the direction of his doom. Suguru slips the earphones in, plays on the music but the melody and lyrics are helpless against the chaos in his mind.

It’s pointless, to resist his own body. He knows it’s pointless, he knows he has control over his legs and deep down he knows he would reject the booty call if he truly wanted. You deserve a better man anyway, not a player that fucks around like it’s a sport. You deserve someone who would worship the ground you walk on, a man of culture and manners with whom you’d engage in long, deep conversations late in the evenings, not a man-boy who cannot control his own dick. But fuck, does he wants you.

He wants you so bad, he wants to be all those things for you. He wants those discussions about philosophy and life, he wants to kiss your knuckles and be the knight in the shining armor, carrying you in his arms and shielding you from the world and assholes such as himself.

He lights up the cigarette, taking a deep breath in and looking up. The night is pretty. Calm. He wonders if you are already sleeping. Or maybe it’s one of those nights that you pull in order to study and secure your grades. The semester just began but he learned it already that you care about your future more than he does about his own. You’re a little nerdy. He thinks it’s cute. He can imagine himself wrapping a blanket around your shoulders when it’s late and carrying you to bed when you’re falling asleep on top of the books and notes. You would fit perfectly in his arms.

“You fucking moron,” he slanders himself quietly, already seeing the motel in front of him. He shouldn’t be there but he moves forward anyway. He knows his ex is already waiting for him, he can tell by the lights in the room they always used to book for the casual encounters. He stops before he enters, giving the smoke few more moments to burn. He can feel it in his lungs, somehow calming as he checks his phone, scrolling through the notifications.

One of the messages is from you.

It’s innocent in the sea of suggestive texts. There’s an apology for the late hour and a book title that you promised to send him a day before. The one you’ve been reading for the last few days and the one that made him rethink his entire life’s choices. There’s not much substance in the message, but it shakes him awake.

The turn he takes is aggressive, it’s resolute. Heavy boots thudding against the concrete panels as he walks away from the motel. ‘Sorry, not coming.’ He sends the message and blocks the number, feeling lighter the second he removes the nude picture and the unwanted contact.

It takes just an hour before he knocks at your door, the dormitory silent in the nightly time so he keeps himself quiet. You open after a long moment, dressed in a make-shift pajama. He likes the way your hair is messy from the pillows, how you smell like vanilla and flowers and coffee. You look so pretty like this, so undone, so unexpecting yet not entirely disappointed to see him. You seem… content?

“Suguru?” His name comes from your mouth and you usher him inside, afraid of someone seeing him. Once the doors shut behind him, your eyes search him for answers.

“Brought you some food, I thought you might need it,” he grinned, showing off the box of pizza and a bottle of soda. “I figured you’re studying tonight and might need some fuel.”

“So thoughtful,” you tease, but the smile that shapes your mouth reaches your eyes, so he knows it’s genuine. He follows you to your bedroom and he’s not surprised seeing the notes all over your bed and scattered on the floor. The papers full of sparsely highlighted knowledge that you want to transfer into your brain take most of the space before you gather them onto a neat pile. He sits right there, on the newly uncovered spot on your mattress. It feels intimate, to be in your room, to rest on your bed, to see you in your pajama. He wonders if you know what the sight of your thighs does to him, the plush, tender flesh begging to be touched, kissed and kneaded. Suguru thinks your skin would look beautiful with bitemarks all over.

“So, pizza,” he clears his throat after letting his eyes linger for way too long on your bare legs. “I took pepperoni, I hope you like it.”

“It’s perfect,” you smile and separate the barely cut pieces for easier access. “I appreciate the thought, really. But there was no need for you to leave the house just to do this.”

“For you, I would do it at every hour,” he says and then sighs deeply. “But truth is, I didn’t plan this.” Suguru feels like he’s inside the confessional. It’s a foreign tension, completely different from the one he felt just hour before. The knot in his stomach has nothing to do with lust and desire and all to do with stress and regret. “I’ve received a booty-call from my ex. That’s why I left the house,” he spats it out quickly, thinking it’ll hurt less if he does it in rush. “I didn’t go there though. I told her I’m not coming, blocked the number and came here instead.”

You stay neutral, chewing on the pizza as your tired eyes size him up. “Old habits die hard, huh?” You mock, slightly amused by his tormented expression. His eyebrow creases before he lets himself drop back onto the mattress, a soft grunt escaping his mouth as he covers his face with his hands.

“I meant it. I want to change and I’m working on it.” He says, his voice quiet and devoid of his usual cheekiness. “I fucked up when I entertained the idea of hooking up with a random person tonight but cut me some slack, I didn’t do it.”

 “Good boy,” you mock-praise and he groans again, but then his entire body tenses when you lay next to him. He feels your breath against his cheek, the tip of your nose prodding the flesh. He doesn’t move, too afraid to ruin the moment. “Do you regret it? Not going, I mean. Be honest, don’t say what I want to hear.”

“I don’t,” he replies, his tone resolute. “I don’t regret not meeting my ex and not having sex tonight. I was pent up — fuck me, I still am, and when I replied to her text, I didn’t think much about anything except for my dick. But I don’t regret not going because I didn’t want to go. And I’m grateful that you texted me because you reminded me what really is important. Right now, it’s you.”

It makes you smile. He’s torn inside of his mind but you take it as a win anyway. Before, Suguru wouldn’t second-guess pulling his pants down and now you made him think. Now, you made him reconsider; wonder who he is without the façade of the charismatic ladies’ man. He will have to learn to navigate social situations without relying solely on his charm and wit to get what he wants. But he can do this. For you.

Before he speaks again, you’re asleep already. Sideways on the bed, most likely uncomfortable but right next to him and he doesn’t dare to move a muscle in his body. You’re sleeping, your face just an inch from his own. The soft fragrance of your skin fills in his nostrils and not even the smell of pizza nearby can disturb it. There’s a hair somewhere around his face, he doesn’t know if it’s yours or his own, but it tickles his cheek every time you exhale. It’s fine.

An hour passes and he finally gathers the courage to shift, as carefully as he can, he turns to his side, to face you. You’re a vision he takes in with his eyes wide open, committing the picture of your peaceful expression to memory. He likes everything about you, every hair of your eyebrows, every freckle and beauty mark. He likes the way you look so unbothered, so comfortable next to him. He wants to touch you. Oh, how much he craves to caress your cheek, to thread his fingers through your hair. His heart thumps in his chest, reaching speeds matching those of sprinters. The feeling is foreign. Is this…? It cannot be. Suguru Geto is not about… that. His entire life he believed he’s meant to have fun, no strings attached, no responsibilities. What did you do to him?

You move and he stops breathing. It’s an instinct, he thinks, that you shift closer to him, but he tells himself you want that. And you fit so well against his chest, your head below his chin, your hand around his middle. The room spins and he wraps you in the embrace of his arms.

He feels your heartbeat, the gentle rise and fall of your breathing and suddenly, he calms down. It sinks into his mind that it’s where he wants to be. All the years of empty flings, the mediocre orgasms, the shameless pursuits could never compare to the feeling of you in his arms. That’s what he has been missing on. And he will do everything to be the man deserving of you.

Time passes, and Suguru slowly falls into the rhythm of his newfound resolve. It’s easy to decline hookup invitations when he can spend time with you, but maybe he did feel a little too confident when he decided to attend the big, annual party at the frat house. It’s Halloween, after all, how could he not go there when everyone will come? Quickly he falls into familiar routine of charms and alcohol, nursing a beer from a red plastic cup and chatting playfully with attractive attendees. His friends push him towards temptation, inviting more and more girls to the crowd and Suguru feels drawn to the lively atmosphere, the flirtatious banter comes as easy as breathing.

That is, before a pretty sophomore dressed in a devil costume takes a seat next to him — a seat he has kept for you, because you promised you’ll come, despite the need to study. It’s fine if the girl sits there for a moment or two, he thinks, as he engages in a conversation. He knows, it’s as obvious as day, that the second-year beauty is interested in getting into his pants — her hand on his thigh, the fluttering eyelashes and pouty lips say everything about her intentions. As the night progresses, he finds himself more and more… uncomfortable. Surprisingly.

And so, he feels relieved when he sees you in the crowd, late but looking absolutely adorable in your sweet bunny costume. It’s simple yet makes his pants grow tighter as he takes in the way the plain black dress hugs your curves. The fluffy tail bounces with each step you take through the filled living area and the long, pink-lined ears swing just slightly along with your hair whenever you move your head around, looking for something — for him and his heart skips a beat. In that moment, everything fades away — the raucous laughter, the pulsing music, even the sophomore girl next to him.

Excusing himself from company, he forces a smile as he brushes the invasive hand off his thigh and gets up from the sofa, making his way over to you. “Hey there, cutie,” he greets, pulling you into a hug and you melt into his chest in an instant. “Glad you could make it.” He breathes in your scent, letting it calm his nerves but it does little to calm other things down. Fuck, you look perfect.

“How could I miss my favorite frat boy sporting a vampire costume?” You quiz, backing up a little to take in his attire. He’s wearing all black, a dress shirt unbuttoned halfway down his chest, pants that make his legs look even longer than they are. His eyes are smudged with little bit of black eyeliner but it works for him, he looks sexy. “Aren’t you a pretty one. I might consider letting you bite me,” you tease, and he knows you’re joking but it doesn’t stop the blood in his body to travel downwards.

“Careful what you wish for, bunny,” he muses, “I might just take you up on that offer and sink my teeth into that delectable neck of yours.” His fingers intertwine with yours as he lifts your hand to his mouth, pressing a kiss to your knuckles before he leads your arm up onto his shoulder. “God, I missed you,” he murmurs as he lowers his head, burying his face in the crook of your neck.

He feels you chuckle, your nails scratching at his scalp as you thread your fingers through his dark locks. Once more you proved him that the change is worth it, because it’s you who’s on the line. “Dance with me?” He asks and you move with him towards the makeshift dancefloor.

Suguru pulls you closer as you enter the rhythm of the music, one hand resting on the small of your back while the other twirls you around gracefully. You’re giggling, amused by the undivided attention he pays you — he’s sweet when he has his eyes on the target, when he has to work for something. He dips you dramatically and your hand tighten on his shoulder, but it’s secure, the way he holds you as if he wished to protect you from all the bad in the world. His eyes lock with yours as he pulls you back up, flush against him. The heat radiating off both your bodies mingles together, creating an intoxicating aura that threatens to consume you whole.

You don’t really listen to what’s playing, a melody mellows in the background as his hands trace patterns along your sides and hips, follow the line of your spine, sometimes teasing the fluffy ball that is your tail. His touch ignites sparks wherever he grazes, leaving trails of fire in its wake. He’s hungry, for you, and you are too. It’s hard to deny it any longer and you think that maybe, just maybe he is ready to commit to something more than just a fleeting romance. It’s been months since he began pursuing you and his attention has been focused solely on you, despite the obstacles and temptations of his life. A reward wouldn’t hurt now, would it?

“I need a drink,” you tell him and he’s quick to react, taking your hand and leading the way towards the kitchen. He knows what you like, snatching a can of strawberry soda from the counter. When you nod in approval, he opens it, too hasty, too eager, that he doesn’t realize the way it bubbles over, spilling over the aluminum container and his fingers. Before he can react, your lips are already on his skin, licking away the sticky trail of pinkish liquid.

Suguru freezes as he feels your tongue glide across his skin, tasting the sweetness of the spilled soda. A shiver runs down his spine at the sensation, his breath hitching in his throat. Desire darkens his eyes, pupils dilate as he watches, transfixed, how you lick the sugary mess from his fingers. The sensation sends jolts of electricity coursing through his veins, pooling in the pit of his stomach. He breathes out your name, but you’re quick to shut him up.

You pull him down, your hand in his hair as you press your lips to his own. He tastes the strawberry sweetness of the soda on your tongue as it dances with his own, the flavor mixing deliciously with the taste of you. The dripping can is soon forgotten on the fake-marble countertop as he scoops you closer, arms wrapping around your waist securely. He can feel the heat of your body through the thin fabric of your costume, the softness of your curves molding perfectly against the hardness of his muscles. He’s eager, he moans lightly into your mouth, the sound vibrating against your lips. You feel the cold metal rubbing against your face, it’s interesting, it’s addicting. You like it.

“Always wanted to try that,” he pants out when for a moment you pull back. He chases your mouth, hungry for more, desperate.

“The soda?” You ask, pressing soft pecks to his pout.

“You.” He lounges forward once again, unsatiated and you don’t stop him. You don’t hear music anymore, all that’s rumbling in your ear is the sound of your heartbeat. You feel the heat in your veins, the flooding of ecstasy filling your cells one by one. There’s no space left between you, but you take a step forward anyway. You feel his hips rolling, a desperate cry for any sort of friction and when you slip your hand down, palming his groin through his pants, he groans into your mouth as his hips buck involuntarily into your touch. “Please,” he begs, eyes locking with yours as he leans his forehead against your own. He can feel himself throbbing beneath the confines of his pants, straining desperately for more of your attention. “You want me too, please tell me you do. I can’t… It hurts, I crave you so much, it hurts.”

“Let’s get out of here,” you murmur. “Your room is upstairs, isn’t it?”

“It is,” he breathes out. “But I won’t take you there. You deserve better than this place and my filthy bed. Let me take you to my apartment.”

He doesn’t wait for an answer and you follow him anyway, your hand incased in his large one, sticky from the spilled soda but none of you seem to care as you saunter through the dancing crowd of young people. Just to get outside.

The walk is a blur, you don’t remember much of it and so does Suguru. The night air is crisp, sending chills down your spine and the boy teases you about it, promising all the warmth he can produce in just few moments. You laugh with him, unbothered by the cool wind that tousles your hair. “It’s just around the corner,” he promises and you hum, matching his pace as he leads you through the neon-lit streets of Tokyo. The world blur into nothing, all you see is the man that holds your hand, the blue-ish hint to his hair whenever the lights fall on it just right, the sticky heat of his palm. You can still smell the faint strawberry aroma; you can definitely feel it on your tongue even though you didn’t manage to truly take a sip of it.

And you laugh again when he fumbles with the keys to his apartment. “Nervous?” You tease him playfully. “You have no idea,” he replies, smiling sheepishly and the entry finally swings open. He ushers you inside, kicking the door shut behind him and flicking the lights on.

Suguru wastes no time, pulling you flush against him once more as he presses you against the nearest wall, his lips finding yours in a heated kiss. His hands roam your body greedily, mapping out every dip and curve, learning the shape of you and you do the same. He shrugs the jacket off and you’re quick to explore the broad lines of his shoulders, the hard muscles of his chest and stomach. You feel him everywhere, the hungry touch devouring every inch of your form. He breaks the kiss, trailing his lips down the column of your neck, sucking and biting the sensitive skin and you whimper breathily — the sound undeniably similar to his own name.

Your fingers tangle in his hair, guiding him lower as he reaches your chest. His kisses grow more wet and delicate as he meets the soft mounds of your breasts, tightly confined by the neckline of your dress. He breaths in your scent, an intoxicating mixture of sweet and floral. It makes his head spin, it’s addicting. He wants more.

It’s easy to slip the dress off of you — first the straps and then the garment goes down, inch by inch revealing the smooth expanse of your skin to his starved gaze. He drinks in the sight of you, his eyes roaming hungrily over the newly exposed flesh and in that moment he swears he has never seen a more beautiful woman in his entire life. His fingers skim along the edges of your bra, tracing the lace delicately before he leans in again, kissing your lips with softness that speaks more than any words could. He wants you, but he wants to worship you. He doesn’t want to make it all about lust and desire, he wants to make it about you and him. About whatever is this feeling that bubbles between you.

And so, he moves down slowly, lips mapping out the curve of your collarbone and down the path to your sternum. His hands follow your curves with gentleness he doesn’t recognize in himself. “You’re beautiful,” he whispers, his hot breath meeting the skin of your stomach, “just breathtaking,” he lowers himself to his knees — something he has never done in his entire life, used to have women at his feet.

“Suguru,” you breathe out but he doesn’t listen. Not when the skin of your thighs feels so soft against his cheeks, not when it tastes so delicious as he trails wet, open-mouthed kisses along the plush flesh. Your fingernails find a way into his hair and he dives between your legs, encouraging one of them to hook over his shoulder. He savors the scent of you, his nose rubbing against the fabric of your underwear, prodding at the little wet patch. He licks it, his tongue flattening over the cotton, catching a hint of your taste — and that’s enough to make him go crazy for you.

“Fuck, you’re so sweet,” he breathes out, every exhale that meets the wetness of your panties sends jolts of electricity up your spine and back down to your core. He presses his lips to where he thinks your clit is, you feel him sucking gently and it’s enough friction to feel yourself pulsating. You moan quietly, the sound escaping your parted lips easily as your hold on his hair tightens. There’s no denying that you want him just as much as he wants you. He’s desperate but so are you.

Your knee buckle as he continues the torture and he coos sweetly. “Let’s take you to bed, you sweet thing,” his tone is sugary, a melody dripping with honey as he smiles at you in a way that makes you blush. There’s adoration written all over his face, his cheeks are flushed, lips red and glistening. You want to follow him when he stands up, but he swoops you off your feet, carrying you bridal style towards the bedroom. It makes you giggle.

“Practicing already?” You muse and he just smiles.

“Perhaps.”

Your back meets the cold bedspread as he lays you down delicately. No time is wasted before he’s right above you, right on you — you feel the weight of his body pressing you into the mattress. No complains about it. He feels good, his hips rolling in a way that has his bulging erection grind along your panties. You hate the fabrics between you two, you hate how they make you feel less of him.

So you move your hands, slide them between your bodies, fumble with the buttons of his shirt. “Impatient much?” He teases, but helps you, pulling the shirt over his head, saving you trouble of the bottom fasteners. His lips find yours in a kiss that burns and you whimper into it, feeling the warmth spreading all over your body.

You reach down. Button, zipper. Your hands tremble as you push the fabric off his hips and he kicks it down. He helps himself with a hand and soon, his pants are on the ground, along with his socks and your bra, that you impatiently toss away. Suguru’s heart rumbles against his ribcage as he takes in the sight of your bare chest. It’s perfect, you are perfect and he cannot believe the luck he has — after years of chasing simple pleasures and meaningless peaks, he had finally found someone he wants to call his.

He feels your heart underneath his cheek as he leans down, inhaling the scent of your skin — his nose trails patterns over the soft flesh before he presses his lips to it, kissing his way towards one of your nipples. It pebbles beneath his touch, hardening as he latches onto it, sucking and teasing it with teeth, twirling his tongue all around. He matches his ministrations with his fingers, not letting the twin feel left out. Your taste is of pure heaven and the sounds that leave your mouth are ones of an angel.

There’s a patch of wet on his boxers, right where the throbbing head of his cock strains against the fabric — the precum oozing out as he grinds his hips against yours. It makes him insane how you reply with the roll of your own, to match his moves, to cause more of that delicious friction that sends both of you into a spiral of desire.

Unable to wait any longer, you hook your fingers at the waistband of his underwear, tugging it down and Suguru replies with the same — pulling the soaked cotton off of you. He wants to taste you, and he will, but not now. He reaches down, guiding the tip of his cock between the folds of your pussy, the head sliding with ease as your slick mixes with the pearly beads of semen. He loves the way your thighs tremble every time he glides over your sensitive clit, how your breath hitches and eyes close.

“Ready?” The question falls and you nod fervently, your hands finding his shoulders for balance. “Use your words, beautiful.”

“I’m ready,” you assure and then, your back arches off the mattress. He slides in inch by inch, stretching you, filling you so completely, making you go blind for a moment. The pain burns just faintly, losing its flames to the flooding of endorphins and pleasure. He goes in to the hilt, his body shuddering as he drops his head to the crook of your neck.

The feeling overwhelms him. The way your pussy grips him, like a vice that almost pulls him in more and more. It’s delightful. Ecstatic. It’s something he’s never experienced before. Is that what love feels like? He moves, slowly backing his hips until there’s nothing but a tip nestled inside you before he pushes forward again, knocking the air out of your lungs and his own too.

You paw at his arms, his back and chest. You want him closer, you want to feel all of him. Stars are clouding your vision, the world ceases to exist and there’s nothing else in it but you and the man on top of you. He feels so good, like he’s meant to be right there with you and Suguru feels the same. Like he found home, like he belongs there, in the warmth of your embrace, in the tightness of your walls. He loves the way you cling to him, the way your nails dig into his skin and your heels dig into his ass, urging him to go harder, faster. He complies, his hips snapping against yours as the wet sounds of your bodies colliding echo through the room, alongside your moans and gasps.

He changes the angle, shifting his hips to hit that spot inside you that makes the stars glitter before your eyes. He knows he’s found it when your back arches off the bed, your nails scoring down his back and a scream tears from your throat. He loves the sound, he loves the sight. He loves how you come undone, how beautifully blissed out your expression is, how your eyes lock with his even though you see nothing but haze. He grins, a smile lost against your skin as he continues pounding into you relentlessly, chasing his own high. He can feel it already, it threatens to consume him. His balls draw up tight, his heart races in his chest.

He buries his face in the crook of your neck, muffling his groans and whimpers against your tender flesh as his hand grips your hip tightly. You match him thrust for thrust, nails leaving angry red marks in their wake. You feel the pleasure building inside you, coiling tighter and tighter until you feel you might explode. Your walls start to flutter around him to the rhythm of your heartbeat and the desire coursing through your veins.

“Fuck, you’re so tight,” Suguru gasps, his voice strained with exertion. He knows you’re close, it drives him insane. “I’m gonna—” He cuts himself off with a guttural moan as his climax hits him like a freight train. He follows you into the pit of pure delight, headfirst, no thoughts. Just pure, overwhelming bliss.

He collapses on top of you, his weight pressing you into the mattress, as his hips buck forward few more times, riding out your highs with stuttered thrusts. You both lay there, panting and sweating, basking in the afterglow of passion. His softening cock slips out of you, followed by a gush of combined fluids but none of you worries about the mess, too blissed out to care about a thing.

“Wow,” he breathes, nuzzling his face into your neck, finding your pulse with his lips. “That was incredible.”

You giggle softly, carding your fingers through his sweat-dampened locks. They feel like silk, soft and luxurious. “Mm, it certainly was.”

“I don’t deserve you,” he exhales, rolling off of you and pulling you into his arms. He presses a tender kiss to your temple, marveling at the intimacy of the moment. It feels new, like an uncharted territory that he wants to explore further. With you. “I meant what I said earlier,” he murmurs, his voice barely above whisper and sincere. “I want to be better. To be worthy of you.”

You hum, lifting your head to look at him and all you see in his violet eyes is raw honesty and a depth of emotion that takes your breath away. “I believe you,” you tell him, leaning in to capture his lips in a slow, lingering kiss. There’s no more rush, no more lust — just pure, soft affection. “And I want to help you change. Together, yeah?”

Suguru smiles against our mouth, his heart swelling with love he never knew he was capable of.

Together.

[starkeyisthelastname]

Pornstar!Rafe who almost makes you break the camera 💦⭐️

He’d have the camera on its tripod, aimed and zoomed right at your dripping hole as he lifted the skirt you had on up. You were sitting in between his thighs, your back leaning against his broad chest as his hand traveled down to your folds. The lens captured the distinctive gold signet ring he wore, his thick digits spreading your pussy lips apart.

“She’s so goddamn wet for me.” His voice spoke, low and raspy as he breathed in your ear. “And so fuckin greedy, huh baby?” He asked, pushing his long middle finger into your soaking hole. You nodded, letting out a small whimper as he pulled it out slowly only to bring two fingers now to dip in. Even with his digits inside you felt full and the camera was recording every delicious second.

“Such a pretty fuckin’ pussy.” He spoke, looking at it in the viewfinder as he brought his fingers out to rub your aching clit. He then spread your folds again, the camera getting a close shot of your leaking cream. He would lean his chin over your shoulder, aiming his salvia to spit directly down your body so that it ran down to your already messy hole.

His two digits would slide back in, this time curling up to hit your g-spot. You let out a moan, his thick fingers filling your cunt as he pushed them in and out at a brutal pace. You squirmed, already knowing where this was going and knew you weren’t going to be able to control it. His other arm wrapped around your waist, keeping you still as he finger fucked your gushy hole.

It didn’t take much for him to get you to turn into a faucet. He could feel you already clenching around him, the pad of his fingers bruising your sweet spot as he had been with you long enough now to know exactly when you were about to burst. “Rafe! Y- gonna fuckin cum!” You squeaked out, chest heating up and pussy fluttering.

He pulled his fingers out, his hand rubbing your clit back and forth in a rapid motion to watch the fountain of juices squirt out everywhere. He groaned against your neck, slapping your drenched cunt with his massive hand before shoving two fingers in deep again. “She’s only a squirter for me.” His voice clear through the audio as he would proudly tell everyone he’s the one that made you make a mess. “Ain’t that right, angel? Do that shit again.” He spat, feeling you clench around him, only for you to spray the camera lens, letting the video end with an “Oh shit.”

[elodieunderglass]

Hey bestie whats a narrow boat? I saw you tag that on something you reblogged and I'm pretty curious now!

- Terry Darlington, Narrow Dog to Carcassone

A narrowboat (all one word) is a craft restricted to the British Isles, which are connected all over by a nerve-map of human-made canals. To go up and down hills, the canals are spangled with locks (chambers in which boats can be raised or lowered by filling or emptying them with water.) As Terry says above, the width of the locks was somewhat randomly determined, and as a result, the British Isles have a narrow design of lock - and a narrowboat to fit through them. A classic design was seventy feet long and six feet wide. Starting in the 18th century, and competing directly with trains, canal “barges” were an active means of transport and shipping. They were initially pulled along the towpaths by horses, and you can still see some today!

Later, engines were developed.

Even after the trains won the arms race, it was a fairly viable freight service right up until WW2. It’s slow travel, but uses few resources and requires little human power, with a fairly small crew (of women, in WW2) being capable of shifting two fully laden boats without consuming much fossil fuel.

In those times the barges were designed with small, cramped cabins in which the boaters and their families could live.

During its heyday the narrowboat community developed a style of folk art called “roses and castles” with clear links to fairground art as well as Romani caravan decor. They are historically decorated with different kinds of brass ornaments, and inside the cabins could also be distinctively painted and decorated.

Today, many narrowboats are distinctively decorated and colorful - even if not directly traditional with “roses and castles” they’ll still be bright and offbeat. A quirky name is necessary. All narrowboats, being boats, are female.

After a postwar decline, interest in the waterways was sparked by a leisure movement and collapsing canals were repaired. Today, the towpaths are a convenient walking/biking trail for people, as they connect up a lot of the mainland of the UK, hitting towns and cities. Although the restored canals are concrete-bottomed, they’re attractive to wildlife. Narrowboats from the 1970s onward started being designed for pleasure and long-term living. People enjoy vacationing by hiring a boat and visiting towns for a cuter, comfier, slower version of a campervan life. And a liveaboard community sprang up - people who live full-time on boats. Up until the very restrictive and nasty laws recently passed in the UK to make it harder for travelling peoples (these were aimed nastily at vanlivers and the Romani, and successfully hit everyone) this was one of the few legal ways remaining to be a total nomad in the UK.

Liveaboards can moor up anywhere along the canal for 28 days, but have to keep moving every 28 days. (Although sorting out the toilet and loading up with fresh water means that a lot of people move more frequently than that.) you can also live full-time in a marina if they allow it, or purchase your own mooring. In London, where canal boats are one of the few remaining cheapish ways to live, boats with moorings fetch the same prices as houses. It can be very very hard for families to balance school, parking, work, and all the difficulties of living off-grid- but many make it work. It remains a diverse community and is even growing, due to housing pressures in the UK. Boats can be very comfortable, even when only six feet wide. When faced with spending thousands of pounds on rent OR mooring up on a nice canal, you can see why it seems a romantic proposition for young people, and UK television channels always have slice-of-life documentaries about young folks fixing up their very own quirky solar-powered narrowboat. I don’t hate; I did it myself.

If you’re lucky, you might even meet some of the cool folks who run businesses from their narrowboats: canal-side walkers enjoy bookshops, vegan bakeries, ice-cream boats, restaurants, artists and crafters. There are Floating Markets and narrowboat festivals. It’s generally recognised that boaters contribute quite a lot to the canal - yet there are many tensions between different kinds of boaters (liveaboards vs leisure boaters vs tourists) as well as tensions with local settled people, towpath users like cyclists, and fishermen. I could go on and on explaining this rich culture and dramas, but I won’t.

Phillip Pullman’s Gyptians are a commonly cited example of liveaboards - although they were based on the narrowboat liveaboards that Pullman knew in Oxford, their boats are actually Dutch barges. Dutch barges make good homes but are too wide to access most of the midlands and northern canals, and are usually restricted to the south of the UK. So they’re accurate for Bristol/London/Oxford, and barges are definitely comfier to film on. (Being six feet wide is definitely super awkward for a boat.) but in general Dutch barges are less common, more expensive and can’t navigate the whole system.

However, apart from them, there are few examples of narrowboat depictions that escaped containment. So it’s quite interesting that there is an entire indigenous special class of boat, distinctive and highly specialised and very cute, with an associated culture and heritage and folk art type, known to all and widely celebrated, and ABSOLUTELY UNKNOWN outside of the UK - a nation largely known around the world for inflicting its culture on others. They’re a strange, sweet little secret - and nobody who has ever loved one can resist pointing them out for the rest of their lives, or talking about them when asked to. Thank you for asking me to.

[nothorses]

You've made a lot of really great posts about transmasc experiences and struggles, and they really resonate with me! So I guess I want to in complete earnest ask: why the push for 'transandrophobia' when anti-transmasculinity as a term has been around for longer and faces little friction by comparison? I don't really *dislike* transandrophobia, but its meaning gets muddied everywhere from different directions, while ATM is pretty direct and succinct I feel. It's very clear that it's about TRANSmasculine oppression. I'm not against having a dedicated term at all, but the content of our struggles gets lost in the weeds of attaching kind of understandably divisive terms like misandry and androphobia in an attempt to mirror a phenomenon very specifically about misogyny; it seems more trouble than it's worth considering ATM is right there

I'll be honest, this ask is confusing to me for a few reasons.

When I started talking about transandrophobia around the summer of 2020, the conversations I was encountering were very much, like, a handful of people across Twitter and Tumblr (literally, a handfull!). I picked up "transandrophobia" because it was one of two words I saw in use, and the other- "transmisandry"- felt much less clear and much more contentious. It seemed super obvious to me that people would draw a line from "men's rights activists" trying to push this idea that "misandry", as a systemic oppression of men by women, to "transmisandry", and assume some ill intent where there was none. It's confusing!

"Transandrophobia" was the better of two options being floated at the time, at least in any conversation I saw. "Anti-transmasculinity" was not really a term I'd been made aware of, if anyone at all was talking about it at the time.

I have seen people pick up "anti-transmasculinity" more recently (maybe in the last year?), and this is definitely the first I've seen someone shorten it to "ATM". The people I've seen use that term have been mostly people who seem really new to the conversation, and the vibe I've gotten has been very, like, "we're the Good Transmascs, our word isn't dirty and gross like those other Bad Transmascs everyone hates. you'll listen to us now that our word is Good and Pure, right?"

Which is like... kind of frustrating, and kind of sad, honestly. I think these people honestly believe that if they just choose the right word, all the people who've been dragging me and every other transmasc talking about these issues through the mud for the last 4 years or so will really just stop & listen. If they can just say it right, these people- who have been relentlessly harassing and spreading lies about every single transmasc who came before them for years now- will care what they have to say, and will be willing to engage with them in earnest, compassionate dialogue.

If you just find the right word, all of these people will care about your hurt, your pain, and the suffering of your community.

It kind of breaks my heart. It's an incredibly hopeful, kind, loving way to view the world. It's compassion and patience and forgiveness that these folks are not being given, but that they so badly want to offer to others.

And at the same time, it sucks to be the Bad Transmasc. It sucks to have fought so hard for so long, and for the people I've been fighting for all this time to turn around and say, "you're gross, and dirty, and evil, and everything you've done is a mistake." It sucks to see the people I've been fighting for agree with the people I've been fighting against, and shove me under the bus in an effort to appeal to the people running me over with it. Knowing that the bus is going to aim for them once it's done with me just makes it sadder, yknow?

@saint-speaks wasn't the first person to ever speak the word "transandrophobia", but he is the one who coined and popularized it in its current form. And then he was dragged through the mud so hard and so brutally that some people think I coined it, just because when I defended him (too little and too late, imo) I withstood the mud-dragging better than he did (and gee, I wonder white.)

And now people take for granted that everything everyone said about hymn to justify that frankly fucking evil harassment campaign was true, actually, and we should abandon the word he coined and find one with purer origins.

If you honestly think "anti-transmasculinity" is just a more practical word, that's fine. I don't care what word we use. But they're going to cover it in mud, too. They're going to cover every one of you in mud.

Will you keep fighting for "ATM" once they make it the new dirty, gross, bad, evil word? Will you keep fighting when they drag you and everyone else through the mud for using it? Or will you agree with them, make up a new word, and never look back?

Please don't let us drown in the mud. We've been fighting for you, and we want to fight with you. Please.

[beenbaanbuun]

Hey!! I just read your most recent Addams!MATZ fic and the angst is DELICIOUS. Your talent for writing is incredible and your creativity really shines through with each and every fic. The fluff, angst, and even the smut are so wonderfully well done, you're one of my favorite ATEEZ writers.

If you're up to it, and feel free to ignore this, but I'd love to see a part two to the angst Addams!MATZ where seonghwa talks to hongjoong and hongjoong comes to apologize. If that's not something you see yourself continuing, I completely understand!

Make sure to keep yourself healthy and hydrated and get plenty of rest.

thank you for the compliments!!! they mean the world to me. i’m glad that my passion for writing and my love for these boys shines through in my work. here is a continuation <333

——————————————————————————

seonghwa doesn’t even bother to knock before barging into his husbands office. yes, he thinks anger is an ugly emotion, but that doesn’t mean he is immune to it. in fact, it’s the only thing running through him as he steps through the doorway and slams the heavy slab of oak behind him. hongjoong hasn’t shown you the courtesy of being polite; why should seonghwa show his husband the same.

upon hearing the bang of the door, the overworked businessman turns around, pen still in hand and glasses low on his nose. he was half expecting to see your feisty little self again, but instead he’s met with the sight of his husband. if it weren’t for the sneer that twisted up his husbands pretty face, he might’ve explained the same thing he’d tried explaining to you. something tells him that seonghwa wouldn’t have appreciated being told ‘i’m busy, i’ll come and talk to you when i’m finished designing these pieces.’

“what’s wr—” hongjoong doesn’t even get to finish before seonghwa cuts him off with a scoff and a petty roll of the eyes. it’s hardly like him to wear his emotions on his sleeve, and yet hongjoong can see each one of them clear as day. hurt, anger, disappointment; emotions that he never wants anyone he cares about to feel. his heart sinks just a touch as he realises who those emotions are aimed towards.

“you are a piece of work, hongjoong,” seonghwa spits, sounding beautiful even with venom laced through his voice. hongjoong knows that’s the last thing he should be thinking right now, but he can hardly help admiring his husband, even when he is seething. it takes the man a second or two to knock himself free of the love-induced haze and allow the words to sink in. “do you think you’re in the right for yelling at our darling? do you think that just because you’re overworking yourself it gives you the right to make her cry?”

hongjoong’s world comes to a standstill. the clock on the wall stops ticking, the heart in his chest stops beating, and most importantly, for the first time in weeks, the brain in his head stops thinking. finally, finally, it’s no longer filled with a myriad of complex ideas, each one overlapping yet individual in its own right. finally he just has one singular thought. it’s just a shame it isn’t a good one.

he made you cry…

hongjoong made you cry…

it repeats in his head, over and over like a mantra. it taunts him, the idea that he’d upset you so much feeling like nails on a chalkboard. his hairs stand on end and his breath catches in his throat. lord below, what has he done.

“where is she?” his voice is weak, pathetic, nothing like he usually sounds. seonghwa has to admit that his resolve takes a hit when he hears it leave his loves mouth. he reminds himself to remain strong; your pain is his priority right now. “seonghwa, please—”

“take a guess, hongjoong,” seonghwa replies, once again cutting his husband off. this time it wasn’t out of anger but of fear that he might cave if he has to listen to hongjoong’s heartbroken pleas for much longer. the pained look on his face is enough to send seonghwa’s heart into overdrive; he doesn’t need any more distractions from the real reason he’s here. “where might you usually find her when she isn’t with one of us?”

the rug in front of the fire—jongho.

hongjoong almost feels ashamed that he even had to ask; he should’ve realised the second you silently left his office that you’d gone to seek comfort in your favourite onikuma. realistically, though, he should’ve realised a lot of things. it hurts him to know that he was too focused on work to do so.

he stands, and he’s grateful when seonghwa shifts to the side to allow him past, even going as far as to re-open the heavy door for him. hongjoong isn’t quite sure he deserves the soft hand that’s placed against his back as he walks through the doorway, but he appreciates it nonetheless. now isn’t the time to be wondering how he ended up with such a beautiful individual as a soulmate, but he finds himself lingering on that thought as the two of them begin their journey to the living room. it’s hard not to when the warmth of seonghwa’s touch never once leaves him.

in fact, it’s only when the two of them step through the archway that seonghwa gives a small shove to the bottom of hongjoong’s spine before going to reclaim his spot on the couch. with a single nod in your direction, seonghwa redirects his husband’s attention and hongjoong lets his gaze flicker to the floor.

the first thing he’s met with is a glare from the mutt he’d been so reluctant to allow into his abode. normally, the beast would be scolded for being so bold as to openly disrespect his master, but he let it slide this time. he can hardly tell him not to give him the attitude he so clearly deserves. in fact, this is light compared to what he would’ve expected from the overprotective creature.

at least hongjoong knows he’ll make a wonderful guard dog…

“dove,” hongjoong coos softly as he dips down to your level. he can’t remember the last time he’d sat on the floor, but this feels necessary. the closeness is something that he finds himself craving, wanting nothing more than to have you next to him again. he won’t lie and claim that the sole purpose of this is to comfort you; he needs it too, to stave off the guilt that has begun to eat him alive. “can you look at me?”

there’s a certain element of pain in his voice that tells you he’s being sincere. that he truly does feel remorse for how he treated you. whether or not it’s seonghwa that forced it upon him, you don’t particularly care. all you want is to feel hongjoong’s warmth again, so you listen. you turn your head until your watery eyes meet his.

“there she is,” he gives you a humourless chuckle, a sad smile twisting the corners of his mouth up and the corners of his eyebrows down. the warmth of his hand as he places it on your cheek is comforting; more so than any words he could say. you just need him close. he seems to realise that as he turns to the werewolf, dangerously aware of the way his ears twitch angrily above his head. “may i take her, yeosang? i promise i’ll be gentle with her.”

“you weren’t gentle with her earlier,” yeosang growls, behaving more akin to what hongjoong expects from him. it almost has hongjoong flinching back in fear of yet another bite-shaped bruise on his hand.

“that’s true, but i would like i make it up to her,” hongjoong is soft as he speaks, less so for the sake of the angry mutt, and more for the sake of you. he doesn’t want you to see any more anger from him. “besides i really think it should be my little dove’s decision as to whether i get to hold her, don’t you?” yeosang snarls, huffing in dismay as he unravels his arms from you and lets hongjoong swoop you into his. manipulation never really has been the man’s style, but he has to admit that it works wonders with the mutt. use you as leverage, and yeosang will behave like a fully trained lapdog. he’s just like them in that respect; so desperate to make you happy that they’d risk everything, dignity included.

it’s not hard for you to let yourself be passed around like some kind of teddy bear as a pose to a real, living human. you’re tired from crying, not to mention desperate for the confirmation that you’re still hongjoong’s good girl. in fact, as hongjoong tugs you into his grasp like a rag doll, you find yourself leaning into his grasp. it’s so soft compared to his sharp words and cutting tone earlier, and his familiar scent of spices fills your nostrils. it dizzies you, but hongjoong is there to catch you…

“i’m sorry,” he whispers into your ear as he pulls you up to straddle his crossed legs, “my darling dove, will you forgive me?”

you don’t answer. you don’t find it necessary to. the way you see it there’s nothing to forgive; you annoyed him, he yelled at you. it’s give and take, and despite your emotions getting the better of you, you refuse to place the blame on hongjoong. not all of it, at least.

“only if you forgive me too,” is the answer you finally settle on, mumbling it into his neck. he squirms a little at the tickling sensation, and in your own mind, you find yourself thinking he’s cute.

“you have nothing to forgive, my dove,” he answers, “but if it will make you forgive me, then yes; i forgive you…”

[popponn]

in perfection and in imperfection.

summary: he is loving, so much so, despite everything and because of 'everything' he calls as you. (a short headcanons of them as boyfriend, again.)

notes: january feels like it will be a busy month for me. in a good way, it's a good feeling. maybe this is also a sign i will meet rl isagi. those things aside, happy new year everyone. good luck for this year too. have this very fit of madness hcs. warnings: none, just fluff of downbad & lovesick boys, reader's gender unspecified.

characters: isagi, chigiri, rin

isagi yoichi—

is so understanding and sharp that you will never feel uncared for. most probably also got a list of your favorite things & important dates in his notes & calendar. even noel noa doesn't get that privilege. he is so downbad that everyone just accepts everything is second to you (and soccer).

is the type that gets so into you once you get his heart. do you worry that you might be #2 soccer? stay still babe, at some point you kind of mix in with 'the soccer' too honestly. every first goal? dedicated in your name. first person to call after a match? you—no matter how short or long it will be, it has to be you. he is away for a match overseas? you better be the one who gets a sleep call schedule ready because when yoichi wants something yoichi will somehow do it. and if you try to praise him—despite all the years of growing confidence—he still gets flustered like a boy with his first crush when it's you. it's as endearing as it is embarrassing to him. if someone points it out he will state it with pride though—after all, his feelings for you are one of his pride.

however, is also the type of guy who would rather shoulder as much as possible. he does it out of love, sure, but having him trying to swallow some problem under the guise of "forcing you to change something is a big no" is just asking for a bigger problem in the long run. so, you do have to be the one who gets the serious talks starting—and he sometimes could get really stubborn even though he is one of the most communicative ones so get ready for that. the thing with yoichi is that he really has to get it to accept it.

chigiri hyoma—

is a beautiful ikemen who walks with the charm of a shoujo manga lead maxed out. as in if this guy falls for you he just naturally acts like a shoujo lead who came to life. and he is also one of the most fashionable guys who puts attention and care on his and your appearance. try to aim for the cutest couple award and high chance you will win.

is also a very dedicated man. he will make sure you know how much he treasures you and it shows. he is not the tidiest person, he is also a pretty demanding guy, but with you? "fine, okay. i'm doing this just for you, you know," he says and hyoma doesn't lie. he will do anything for you. the amount of trust he puts on you is really evident too and he is not one to shy away from saying it. also, trust that this guy will gladly run across tokyo on a lazy monday morning during his rare break just to deliver you anything if you ask. he will demand kisses, yes, but that's also a benefit in its own way.

but, he is also very moody and, admittedly, impatient. so when he gets into this sort of mood you have to keep your head clear and deal with him until his head cools down. he won't hurt you—he will never—but without a doubt his attitude and wording could definitely drag your anger out. he also tends to focus on one thing and one thing only when he gets like this, while it has its benefits, during these times you have to be really patient when trying to talk to him.

itoshi rin—

is the type of guy who truly embodies "it's the small things". also, he is so attentive and combining this with the fact he is more into action than words—you honestly get yourself a gold mine of top-tier 'act of service' bf.

is actually very affectionate once you can translate his silent languages. he is always close to you at every chance he gets. it's not even funny. some people could translate this as some guard dog behavior, some braver souls translate this like a kid following the elder around, but honestly rin just likes being close to you. it calms him down in a way that also somehow manages to keep him awake—which is a nicer way to put 'this guy sometimes barely blinks when he is staring at you'. your happiness is one of his top priorities and he will bite someone literally if he has to just for that. this is how bad it is. but all in all, all of this is a way for him to keep an eye for you and be ready to assist you in anything—you need to take something? you need him to carry something? you want to buy something? just leave it to him, it will make him happy too. if you get overwhelmed? tell him, this guy is actually really quick to adjust things the moment he gets it. and for you? he will somehow do it even faster.

with all that being said though, this guy could get confusing at times. when he gets into a particularly negative thought, his first response would be to bark out his emotions and afterward distance himself. clearly, communication with him is hard. but despite all the silent treatment you get, he still wants to have you close—while being the one who keeps his distance from you. dealing with rin when he is being like this truly requires maturity and delicacy that probably rivals an esper skills.

[evilkitten3]

bet

totally normal brotherly interaction

and then again four years later

in shippuden, kakashi explicitly states that what sasuke went through was entirely bc of itachi's bs

(thanks to @therecexz for the images; i would've linked directly to you but people on tumblr don't like clicking links, so sorry about that)

counting the time in shippuden, that's three separate times itachi has done this– once when sasuke was eight, once when he was twelve/thirteen, and once when he was sixteen. that's a helluva a lot of psychological trauma to go through in your formative years

itachi couldn't bring himself to kill sasuke. he had absolutely no problem beating the shit out of him and torturing him psychologically.

look, i don't hate itachi and i'm not even a particularly big sasuke fan– they're both fun characters, frankly, i think kishimoto wasted too much time trying to make their relationship #dramatic and not enough time showing itachi post-resurrection realizing how badly he'd fucked up (dw he has a secret magic bird he made naruto throw up and that makes everything ok i guess. sure the bird's purpose was to brainwash the little brother he traumatized but w/e)

honestly it all could've worked if the ending had been anything remotely close to satisfactory but g-d forbid we challenge the status quo

[taoriyu]

Let's stay like that [Mizu x Reader]

============= Rating: E Pairing: Mizu x F!Reader Warnings: explicit 100% nsfw content under the cut; also mb awkward nsfw content idk Description: you and Mizu were going to train but things were escalated quickly bc you are a cute when angry short sweet bun.

To be honest I hesitated about this fic and rewrote it couple of times. It feels like something isn't there yet. But anyway who cares right? Let's go.

=============

Sunlight filtered through the dense canopy, casting a dappled mosaic of light and shadow upon the forest floor. A heavy, concentrated scent of pines weighed down the air, as if the trees themselves were closing in on the surroundings. In the distance, you heard the soothing sounds of a nearby stream. Mizu's athletic form seemed to merge with the shifting shadows as she faced you, her piercing blue eyes locked onto yours. With practiced grace, she swept her hair into a samurai bun, standing tall, preparing for the duel.

You both exchanged bows, as your father had taught you. This was how a new type of conversation should begin, he had said. One that spoke through actions and unspoken thoughts instead of words. Assuming a stance, you held your wakizashi slightly raised, its tip directed toward your opponent, poised for defense. You studied Mizu, attempting to discern her intentions. If I charge recklessly, she'll cut me down, you thought. I must wait for her move. But instead of attacking you right away, she moved to the side, pulling you both in circling motion.

Mizu's voice was a low, resonant hum that echoed through the clearing as she teased, "Do you need me to kneel down to make it a fair fight?" You couldn't help but frown, though a smirk threatened to form at the corners of your lips. This mixture of annoyance and laugh was exactly what Mizu aimed for. She’s pretty when she’s angry, Mizu thought, settling into her fighting stance.

In the serene isolation of the forest glade, Mizu and you squared off, the anticipation crackling in the air. Mizu, her katana gleaming in the dappled sunlight, moved with fluid precision, her every step a testament to years of disciplined training. You faced her with a wakizashi, its shorter blade a contrast to Mizu’s blade, demanding swifter, more agile movements. The duel commenced with a swift and silent motion; Mizu's katana arced gracefully through the air, the swing a blend of power and elegance. You dodged and parried an immediate second strike, the clash of steel ringing loudly in the quiet peace of the forest.

With a smirk playing on your lips, you parried Mizu’s teasing with a quip. "I may be vertically challenged," you began, your voice light yet edged with determination. Two swift slashes from Mizu’s katana whistled past, narrowly missing their mark. "But I can still kick your ass," you continued, diving under her extended arm with graceful agility. In a single fluid movement, you struck her side with the hilt of your wakizashi, feeling the satisfying impact reverberate through the metal.

You dodge out of the katana's deadly reach, swiftly getting back on your feet with a smirk. "See? That could have been the end for you," you tease, watching Mizu rubbing her side. The words lingering between you as you both readjusted your postures.

Mizu's wry smile showed she understood your point. "Maybe so, but my height granted me another skill" she begun as she placed her sword on the ground. “Swiftness“. In one powerful jump, she closed the gap between you and grabbed your waist, causing both of you to fall to the ground in a flurry of laughter. As you tumbled across the grass, playfully trying to gain control over each other, Mizu's genuine laughter mixed with yours in the warm summer air.

The two of you erupted into laughter, a harmonious symphony of heavy breaths and pure joy. Mizu watching from above with pride as she held both of your wrists in one hand. Your cheeks flushed with a familiar warmth, spreading like the sun rising across your entire body, as if your heart was being gently caressed. The sweet scent of Mizu's skin fills your nostrils, a mix of sea salt and sunshine that envelopes you in a sense of comfort and desire.

So close, you thought, forgetting how to breath, seeing all at once: her striking eyes more roundish then yours of ocean colour that your loved the most on sunny days, a gentle movement of her stranded hair caressing by breeze, a bird that took a flight from tree behind her, her lips, their shape with touch of recent laughter, her slightly raised eyebrows that added a touch of glitter to her shifting gaze that made your heart to flip, her lips again and yet it felt like you have never seen a thing that could move your heart more.

You took a breath and felt like Mizu shifted and press against your lower body, making an audible involuntary breath. The movement, unintended as it may have been, drew a hot sensation tugging low beneath your belly and a sweet low moan along with it.

And that was it. She leaned in closer, her lips parted slightly, drawing in a sharp breath before pressing against your own. Her mouth moved slowly, expertly, as she brushed her lips against your bottom lip and then sucked it in gently. Her thumb caressed your cheek, her eyes closed in pleasure. Suddenly you felt Mizu tense up and she swiftly broke away. You saw her heavy breathing, mouth agape, a sudden fear and regret inside your eyes. A flicker of uncertainty flashed in her eyes, opening a new shade that it seems was never there before for you: vulnerablety. A shadow of fear darkened their depths, reflecting the turmoil of her heart. They darted nervously, as if searching for reassurance.

She had already let go of your wrists and was about to leave, but you held onto her kosode tightly, knowing that if you let her go it would be a grave error. With a gentle touch, you caressed her face and brought your foreheads together. "Please," you whispered hoarsely, not wanting to let go of her. Her eyebrows lifted slightly, in disbelief. You leaned in closer to her, not quite kissing yet but gently brushing your lips against hers. "Stay," you whispered, your words mingling with her breath as you pulled her into another kiss. You felt the tension leaving her muscles with a deep breath.

With her hand on your cheek, she gently brought her tongue into your mouth for two measured strokes before pulling away to enter once again. And leave again. And again. You felt how this agonizingly slow kiss filled your mouth with moan and made your body ache. To touch, to rub, to lick, to kiss, to suck, to bite, to hold.

She reached for the waistband of your hakama, untangling and loosening it with skilled fingers. "Hang on," she whispered, moving you into a seated position with her behind you. Her fingers traced along the waistband, gliding down to your folds and softly caressing your most sensitive spot. A shiver coursed through your body as you let out a deep sigh.

Her finger traced along your folds, gently parting them and gathering your wetness. A satisfied chuckle escaped her lips as she playfully nibbled on your ear, before giving you a loving lick. Her fingers danced over your sweet, sensitive bud in rapid, gentle movements, sending delightful shivers throughout your body.

“You like that?“ she whispered into your ear, her warm breath causing you to let out a louder gasp as you grasped for her neck with eager hands, trying to find more leverage.

Her fingers danced in circles over your clit, igniting a fire that spread through your body with each touch. Your anticipation grew with each passing second as she pressed harder into each circle, sending through you sparks of arousal. You could feel yourself surrendering to the overwhelming pleasure, unable to resist as she pushed you further and further into the depths of desire. Your legs opened wider in response to the intense sensations, as if you were falling into a bottomless pit of precious madness under her touch.

Your moans got quicker and louder with every stroke. “Fuck you sound so sweet” she growled into your ear as she picked up the pace, making you squirm and press against her skilled fingertips, unable to contain yourself any longer. She bit her lip moaning. Her fingers made a long stroke down and pressed against your entrance twice. She drives you wild, anticipating all sensations that you craved.

Your muscles tighten and quiver with anticipation as she sled inside her fingers, pressed them inside your walls just right there where exactly you wanted her. Your hands clutching at her neck and hip as you try to control the intense sensation coursing through you with every thrust. Each breath feels like fire in your lungs, and your moans escalate into near screams as desire consumes you. Until finally, with eyes shut tight, you reach your peak with loud cries of pleasure.

She eased her movements, each one creating a ripple of sensation that traveled through your body in continuous waves. Your muscles gradually relaxed as she held you close, kissing top of your head.

As your heart rate slowed down, you took a deep breath and confessed, "I believe I am in love with you, Mizu." Her smile widened and she seemed pleased to elicit these confession from you. Without hesitation, she replied with certainty, "I know I am in love with you," pressing a tender kiss on your neck.

“Why did you stop back there, while we were kissing?” you asked, fixing and adjusting your clothes.

"I've been in a similar situation before. Things seemed fine, or so I thought but then he rejected me and called me a monster. I thought…", she paused, “I was afraid that I was making the same mistake again.“

You took her hand, kissed the back of her palm and softly said, "You're not a monster, Mizu. You're brave and maybe angry, but with me you’re kind, and anyone who can't see that doesn't deserve you." Drawing closer, you fully embraced Mizu's hug. "Do you want me to..." Your voice trailed off as your shyness took over before you could finish your thought.

"Not right now," Mizu chuckled, amused by your sudden bashfulness. "Let's just stay like that until Ringo finds us," she whispered, resting her chin on top of your head. "Being short does actually has its advantages. You fit perfectly," she smiled, feeling content and comforted embracing you.

[bitchiswild]

On The Court

GP Huh Yunjin x F! Reader

Warnings: Smut, Exhibitionism, Creampie, and others things probs 🤷‍♀️

Word Count: 1.5k

A/n: Sorry if it’s bad 💃🏼 but enjoYyY

╔═════ஓ๑♡๑ஓ═════╗

"Got the hang of it now?" Yunjin inquired, leaning against the fence surrounding her private tennis court. She had just finished an extensive session. As the girlfriend of a well-respected champion, she was teaching you what you needed to know when it comes to tennis.

"Yeah, I think I've got it. Let's try a game, shall we?" I replied, eager to challenge my skills and elevate them to the next level. I got into position, ready for the ball to come right at me.

"Love!" Yunjin's voice echoed across the court, a playful twinkle in her eye as she tossed the tennis ball into the air. With graceful precision, she brought her racket down, sending the ball gliding over the net, its trajectory aimed squarely at my side of the court.

As the ball landed within my court, I ensured it bounced once before my swing. "Keep it inside the lines," I coached myself, recalling every rule and fundamentals Yunjin had taught me. Mindful to avoid the net, I prepared to strike. With precise timing and just the right force, I sent the ball soaring over the net, a blend of power and control behind my shot. It zoomed past Yunjin after a single bounce on her side, earning me 15 points.

Excitement bubbled up within me,Yes!" I yelled out in sheer glee. "Ha! In your fucking face!" My triumphant outburst echoed across the court, a mix of elation and competitive spirit driving my words.

"Pretty good, babe," Yunjin said, initially shocked, but the surprise quickly faded, replaced by a smirk.

"Game on."

As the game went back and forth, the scores kept climbing until we reached this critical moment where every point mattered. The tension thickened around Yunjin and I as the final round loomed, signaled by the ball tossed into the air. I focused hard, determined to win. I wanted to prove a point—to show Yunjin that Y/n L/n did indeed grasp tennis, despite just learning it.

I was convinced I could pull off a win. Crushing Yunjin's ego seemed like a golden opportunity, and I was totally up for grabbing it.

Surveying her position at the far-right corner of the court, I seized the chance to smash the ball towards her opposite side. The ball raced across the court at a blistering pace, catching Yunjin off guard. She dashed toward the ball on the other side, attempting to keep up, but by the time she reached it, it was too late for her to make a hit.

A surge of realization flooded my face as I witnessed the ball whiz past Yunjin. I had won the game—yes, I had actually won! My body erupted with excitement, and I couldn't contain myself. "Yes! Hell fucking yeah! In your face! Did you see that, Jen!? "I beat you!" I exclaimed in pure triumph, relishing the victorious moment.

Yunjin's faint smile revealed a hit to her usually unshakable ego. It was clear that losing had hit her hard, especially since she's usually the one who dominates in tennis. "Congrats, babe," she conceded gracefully. "That was a good game."

I rushed up to her, unable to contain my excitement about the win. "Did you see that? The ball just sailed past you! Oh my goodness, that was too good! I wish we had cameras for a slow-motion replay!"

"Alright, Y/n, we got it, you won," Yunjin said, her tone beginning to carry a hint of irritation.

I pouted teasingly at her. "Aww, is Yunny Hunny Bunny’s ego feeling a little busted because she lost to her girlfriend?"

“It is not. My ego is fine.” She huffed,trying to maintain her composure.

"Hmm, sure, whatever you say... my little loser," I teased, a playful smirk on my face.

“Can you please stop calling me a loser? I get it already” She said looking even more annoyed.

"Is Jennifer Huh mad now?" I exclaimed, feigning shock with a playful grin.

“No… I'm not now, please shut up.” She said with an embarrassed, frustrated look on her face.

You leaned up to her ear and whispered “Make me.”

Once you leaned back you stared at her face. Lust clouded her eyes instantly. Immediately she grabbed your neck and pushed you over to the fence roughly. You stared at her, knees buckling, while she looked at you up and down knowing that you will always be on your knees for her. She leaned down to your ear and whispered “Look at you, always weak for me. Always willing to be on my knees sucking my cock like the slut you are.”

You started breathing heavily as she kissed down my neck. One hand on your neck while the other slowly itches down to your skirt. You lifted your head up to make room for her. Yunjin finally reached down to your covered pussy, rubbing it slightly. Tightening her grip on your neck. You held in a moan.

“I want to hear you scream while I fuck you senseless. Let the whole neighborhood hear you, got that baby?” She husked. Too turned on to utter a word Yunjin gripped my neck harder

“I said do you get it” She said once again .

“I will,” You whimpered.

“Good”

She spun you around roughly making sure you were facing the fence, pulling your skirt down to your legs, she started rubbing herself against you, making you even more wet. “Fuck, baby” she moans. You were holding on to the fence, looking back at her dry humping you. She then pulls her own skirt down to her legs whipping her cock out. You reached behind, and stroked her cock in your hands. Her hands slide along the outside of your thighs, then in between them, sliding against your slit. Fucking you with her fingers.

“Mmm fuck Jen.” You moaned out.

She coated her fingers with your juices, sucking them clean. Her cock slid through your dripping pussy. “Please no teasing” You whined.

She chuckled, gripping your hips tightly “Anything for you baby.” She then pushed her entire length into your pussy. “Fuck baby, you’re so fucking tight every single time” She moaned out and started to thrust hard and deeply inside you.

“Oh my fucking god” You screamed.

“Yes that's it baby, scream for me. Scream so the whole neighborhood can hear how good I fuck you. How I can reach deep inside you and fuck you so hard, so you can feel me for days.” She husked. Thrusting into you hard, making your body and the fence move with each thrust.

“You feel so good, I'm so close.” You moaned out loudly.

“No. Hold it. Don't you dare cum yet” She said, slowing down her thrust .

“Please, Jen..” You whimpered.

Her hand goes back up to your neck and slightly grips it. “Who’s pussy is this?” Her thrust is still agonizingly slow making me ache to cum. “Yours! Fuck! It's Yours!” You whined tears threatening to run down your face.

“Please let me cum!” You cry out.

Yunjin smirked “That's my girl,” Her thrust quickens once again making you moan out loudly as you get closer to the edge. Yunjin felt your walls flutter around her, she knew you were very close to the edge. Her other hand reached over to your front to rub your clit. That is all it took to send you over the edge.

“Shit Jen I'm cumming,” You screamed out.

She kept up her thrusts “ That's it baby cum for me. Cum all over my cock, soak it.”

Euphoria washes over your body as you came. Gripping tightly onto the fence so you don’t fall down. Yunjin is still thrusting into you as you came over-stimulating your whole body. “Please no more,” You told her weakly.

Coming back to my senses she now pulled out of you and spun you around, you weakly faced her after being overstimulated. She rests her forehead against mine, breathing heavily, gripping one of my thighs and lifting it.

“One more baby I know you can do one more,” she says to you.

The head of her cock enters you again then her whole length causing both of you to moan. Her thrust starts slow then slowly increases. “Fuck baby I love you” She moans out. You felt her cock twitch inside you signaling that she is cumming soon.

“I love you too, I’m almost there” You moaned.

You bounced on her cock while she thrust in you. Our moans getting louder. You clenched around her cock as you came hard, making your whole body shake with pleasure. Yunjin's thrust quickens but it gets harder to thrust since your pussy is like a vice around her cock. Her hips stilled as she cums. Her warm thick cum fills your pussy and you moan at the feeling.

Holding on to each other as your highs came down, breathing heavily. Yunjin pulled out, making you moan now feeling empty. Her cum starts leaking out of you. She reaches down to swipe it up and shoving back inside your pussy. You moan at the contact.

She leans down to my ear “Just so you know baby, I let you win” she grins pulling up her skirt and walking back to the court, she turns around and stares at you while you were still leaning against the fence, catching your breath. “Now get dressed, we are playing another game.” she smirks.

╚═════ஓ๑♡๑ஓ═════╝

[kaitawrites]

Hey it's me again.... I was wondering if you could do wolverine with a male speedster reader but like reader isn't a typical bouncing off the walls speedster he's more low energy and it's just ironic that he's a speedster? Lol idk

AN: I hope you're ok with me just seeing the speedster as someone who is pretty nonchalant and sarcastic.

Characters: Logan Howlett x Male Speedster Reader

Warnings: None

Logan was never a fan of yours, as you tend to tease him very often and act all high and mighty.

whenever you would mock him for his animal-like senses Logan was more than ready to knock you around with your mockery

But you were always too quick for him to land a hit, resulting in more mockery from you.

You guys would pick with each other like an old married couple, You would call Logan a walking skeleton and he would call you a fatherless brat.

When heard was a low blow, you were shocked that he would even say that. You now know to keep Logan away from Rouge and their teenage comebacks.

When you guys start to become romantic, its when you both are on a mission. You could still remember when the professor had told you both that you were going together.

Your mouth was agape. "Him?!" You both yell. You turn your eyes to Logan who also looks at you. Irritation is clear between the two of you. "Professor, this has to be some sort of mistake. Why would you peer us together for this?" You question Charles, you cross your arms against your chest. "He will be nothing but trouble." You mutter under your breath. "I could say the same to you, bub," You roll your eyes at his words. "No, I need you both for this mission. Your speed is needed to get the information and Logan's senses to track the shipment." All in all, you guys were stuck together.

While you were on the mission, you two began to get close, telling each other things about one another.

Logan had even opened up a little about his childhood. The kinds of food his mom would cook

You had opened up to Logan about your birdwatching hobby. Where you would watch birds and try to catch them to see who is quicker.

Logan did look at you strangely when you told him on your hobbies but he couldn't really shame you. It all seems like healthy things cause if it wasn't for his healing factor he would have had alcoholic poisoning a long time ago.

Being on the mission at hand as well as you both having a tighter bond, You didn't make fun of him when he did use his senses.

The gun was aimed at Logan, you could feel your whole world stopping as you move without thinking. Zooming in time to push him out of the way, resulting in you being the victim of the bullet. A groan escapes your lips as you fall onto the floor. You couldn't see the immediate blood leaving Logan's face at the realization of what happened. He sees your body on the ground, his body beginning to warm up in anger. He then turns his attention to the person who shot you. His claws ripped the man into shreds.

Once you are done with the body, his attention is back on you on the ground. "Why would you do that?" He yelled at you, staring at the painful expression on your face. You couldn't help but crack a smile. "You have to be quicker than that," Logan growls in frustration. "I have healing factors!" You roll your eyes before you showcase the dried-up blood on your abdomen. "I do too. I am not just a fast runner. The whole thing is fast." Logan let out a breath he didn't know he was holding in. His tense shoulders drop at the realization that you will be ok. "Just... don't do that again. I don't know what I would do if I lost you." You were going to crack a joke but you could see the seriousness in his eyes. You nodded your head softly at the recognition of his words.

[jeonscatalyst]

As someone who's been into kpop for over 10 years, I just wanted to comment on the saesang ask. Saesangs aren't in their right mind, most of them are deeply obsessed with the person they are stalking and also have an element of desiring control over the person/wanting to feel closer than other fans. Most of them don't aim to air out an idol's private life, unless they get pissed off i.e. find out the idol is dating and feel like a jilted lover for example, so they lash out and leak private info. Most of them either have a mother or lover complex (for male idol saesangs) and want to control them. Their goal isn't to leak info, but to feel close and special to the idol.

There are some saesangs who do it for money by selling info about idols. BTS is so famous now that this isn't really viable because other than really really gullible people, most people realize that anyone could make stuff up about bts and call it "insider info". They're so big, it also makes more sense to go to Dispatch or something like that with "real info" to get top media dollar than sell to random fans. Even former saesangs say you'd have to be an idiot to buy bts "info" nowadays because its all going to be bullshit.

I want to be clear that any "legit" saesang rumor comes from idols having their personal life invaded without consent. I'm not saying their is a rumor about jikook out there, but even if there was, no one who actually gives any amount of fuck about them (especially korean fans who have a history of gatekeeping stuff that could harm the boys) as human beings would spread it, because it'd basically be outing them because actual saesangs have a terrifying amount of knowledge and connection to these idol's inner lives. I wanna be very careful how I say this, but for example there were group chat messages from an infamous saesang that got leaked years ago that in my opinion, implied some things about a kpop idol that had no right being implied publicly without their consent. You might wonder, well what about antis who hear the rumor, won't they spread it? But once again, most saesangs aren't looking to spread info about the idol they're stalking, and even if they do, a lot of them seem to mostly engage with other saesangs of the group their idol is in because they are, in some messed up obsessive unhealthy way, still a "fan" of the idol. So unless the groupchat gets pissed and someone leaks it or the saesang feels jilted by the idol they stalk, most of that stuff stays there.

Now in regards to jikook, the obvious reality is that they're bandmates. There's nothing crazy about them hanging out or being seen together. They even tell us themselves how much time they spend together privately at times. They aren't going to makeout in public, so what would a saesang say anyway even if they wanted to reveal stuff about them (which as I stated before, most of them don't aim to do anyway)? They saw them together? So what? Also as you @jeonscatalyst said, these people aren't god, just stalkers. Even they have limits and all saesangs aren't equal in terms of access to their idol, opportunities, etc. that allow them to get "info".

Also, pretty much all the "rumors" we hear about jikook even in heterosexual relationships don't come from saesangs, its just made up shit from random korean forums (this is actually the case for a lot of kpop rumors, not just related to jikoook or bts). This isn't to say jikook is real or something, but that we actually don't hear from "actual" saesangs as much as people like to pretend. I think i-fans of kpop think that term comes with authority because it implies a closeness to the idol from being a stalker (which is fucked up because why are we putting stalkers on a pedestal but I digress), so they kind of slap it on any rumor, but that's really not the case, especially for a group as famous as bts. You think if someone wants to make money off a rumor about them or aims to leak private info to take them down, they're going to sell it or share it into the fandom? No, they'd take it straight to the media or competing k-pop companies who would pay top dollar and be frothing at the mouth to take down the biggest kpop group in history. Basically, even if a saesang does want to spread something, its not coming to us in the form of fandom rumor. And since this is a jikook blog, let's pretend a saesang thinks jikook are a thing and for one reason or another, decides to share that info. How does spreading that info even work? What media company is going to not only out someone, but also risk looking like an actual buffoon for thinking two group members are together? The group aspect of bts gives plausible deniability for everything up until actual romantic/sexual physical contact pretty much, something which a saesang is never going to get evidence of unless they figure out how to become the actual wallpaper inside jikook's apartments. Even if they spread it though the fandom, fans will just look at them like a shipper. Like "aww you have a pic of them out at a restaurant? how cute! #jikookarethebestbros". I think it can't be overstated how much them being in the same group and shipping culture (+ homophobia) aid in downplaying any possibility of an actual romantic relationship being there.

Also just a sidenote, but saesangs are just extremely disturbed fans, they can be y/n's (most of them are), they can be homophobic, etc. Jungkook has some of most y/n fans of any top male kpop idol. Do I think its beyond a saesang to see their fave idol in a same-sex relationship and think "I can fix him (make him straight)?" Not at all. Do I think it would be above them to start seeing the other member/partner as "the other woman" and start hating them or blaming them for tainting their beloved idol? Not at all. In this scenario, I doubt they'd want to spread this info they think is "shameful" about their fave idol, they would just think he needs "fixed" or pulled away from the person "contaminating" him.

Anyway, I have spent waaaay to long in the kpop fandom, even pre-bts (when saesangs almost seemed worse back then) and this is the general consensus I have garnered about why saesangs are the way they are.

Thanks anon, for your very insightful input💜

[dokidokitsuna]

O.R.C.A.’s Directory

(Finally coming back to this concept after several months ^^;)

O.R.C.A. in #re_rise doesn’t just run Alterna in the background and give you orders– it’s a system you interact with regularly as the player; a database that facilitates your adventure and keeps track of your accomplishments. It is accessed through terminals placed at key spots on each site, which you have to find, activate, and physically walk to if you want to use them.

Most of the contents of the Menu (except the Sunken Scrolls) are now consolidated into O.R.C.A., along with a few bonus features~

Alterna Archive: Basically the Alterna Logs– all the information about Alterna’s history, from creation to collapse (referencing my rewritten version of this backstory, of course). As you clear lab spaces with different weapons, earn Golden Eggs, activate terminals, collect Nostalgic Devices, etc., the files will be decrypted line by line. Basically, anything that contributes to your percent completion of the game will count towards this…so just enjoy Alterna the way you like, and you’ll eventually reveal the entire archive without too much extra effort. ^^ This story is O.R.C.A.’s gift to you; your reward for reawakening its home.

Lab Notebook: Notes written by the ‘mysterious researcher’ currently working in Alterna, earned in order from newest to oldest, so we can gradually learn what the Fuzzy Ooze is and why he made it, as well as his origin story and true identity (in his own words~). These replace ‘Log.exe’ from the actual game. Lab notes are found by reaching computers hidden within the lab spaces, kinda like the Power Egg packs. They are purposely placed in the more challenging spaces, and you must clear the space in order to take the note with you– if you wanna learn the main antagonist’s secrets, you gotta put in the work. ^^

Wellness File: Records of Neo Agent 3’s responses to the environment, once you obtain the biometric monitor in Cryogenic Hopetown (more on that later). This is essentially an account of how the player character is feeling at each point in the story– a new entry will be created after each encounter with a major character (Deep Cut, the King Salmonids, the Squid Sisters, etc.) or a particularly interesting Alterna landmark. ;)

Nostalgia Index: List of all the Nostalgic Devices you’ve collected, which Alterna citizens they belonged to, and what they used them for. The citizens’ names are redacted, but you do get to learn a bit about the different kinds of people who lived in Alterna, and connect with them through the items they left behind.

Skill Tree: Basically the same as the in-game version, minus the Hero Shot buffs– in #re_rise you don’t get the Hero Shot until you gain the Hero Gear in the last stretch of the game. Instead you borrow from weapons’ lockers placed around Alterna…meaning you can carry the weapon of your choice as you explore each site, offering you a wider variety of strategies to use on those balloon challenges, for instance. ^^ But I digress…

Camera Roll: One of the Nostalgic Devices you can find is a digital camera, and once you’ve obtained it, you can take pictures with it and upload them to the terminal (as well as your regular photo gallery, when you’re back on the surface). The Alterna Camera comes with its own special filters, and characters you aim it at will pose for you. ^^ This feature is basically just for funzies, but if you can snap a picture of that large figure lurking in the shadows, you’ll earn a special clothing item.

Messages: Occasionally you will receive mysterious messages, warning you with increasing severity to stay out of their laboratory (and bring back their golden eggs…sure sounds familiar). Are these warnings for their sake or for yours…?

Map: Even the site maps are only accessible through the terminals, they’re not available whenever. Maybe that would be a controversial choice…but I think it’d be okay in this instance, since (a) the Alterna islands are pretty small, and (b) I’ve invented a fun system that might help– the Sticker Beakons! ^^

Around Alterna, you can find Sticker Sheets with 3 Sticker Beakons each, to place and replace wherever you want on any island. They shine like actual beacons so you can use them to navigate while you wander around on foot, and once you reach a terminal you can jump to them like normal Squid Beakons. They come in different shapes and designs like the stickers from Hotlantis, and double as actual stickers you can place on your locker, once you’ve found them in Alterna. ^^

I feel like forcing the player to walk around is more forgivable when you give them something cute and customizable like this to play with. :D If you want to use all 18 Sticker Beakons on one island at a time because you’re super directionally-challenged, you can. If you want to use them to simply mark your favorite Alterna landmarks so you can jump to them easily, you can do that too. 

Maybe as a compromise, I might add a ‘Return to Nearest Terminal’ option in the Menu…but I think encouraging the player to get out there and actively explore can’t hurt. Part of my philosophy with this re-concept is to make Alterna an interesting place that the player would WANT to explore, and all these added collectibles are part of that.

[4pfsukuna]

Enemies to f⭐️cking lover Toji

Ok so ive been thinking about releasing a 3-5 part enemies to lovers(or something along those lines) for toji although i know the most common works on here is one shot smut. Trust smut will be involved… its toji

You used to be an american spy but japan pays nearly tripple. The jobs were quick easy taking 2 days at max. You had climbed the interest ladder for your ability to get things done in a quick and neat fashion with minimal mess and uproar increasing your salary from 4 figures to six in only a couple of months. Unfortunately theres another assasin whos getting in your way and hes the exact opposite of everything you stand for. 

Not only does he not wear a mask to cover his identity, he lets his targets know exactly who he his just so they can have his name as their last thought before death.

Toji fushiguro.

The biggest jackass youve ever met.

This wasnt your typical one sided beef where youd get mad at him and hed flirt no he had beef with the number one assassin who was stealing his target which means his money. It truly grinded his gears and yours when they made you split a salary.

“Might as well go home princess” you hear his raspy voice though princess was said in a derogatory way hes made it clear several times he hated the way you did things. Why be so… clean. Death is death.

“Fuck off pretty boy go back and crawl into whatever shitty little backroom of a laundry mat and return to horse betting” you seethe having done your research on him. Its not like he needed the money for anything important unlike you who wanted it for taking care of responsibilities back home.

This mission had been one of your biggest yet and you did not need to blow your hiding spot nor cover by arguing with his big ass over nothing.

You're grabbed from the crouching position your in and slammed against the brick wall not hard enough to hurt but it does press into your all black outfit.

“You can do whatever research you want on me but you dont fucking know me… you dont know shit.” he snarls lip on his scar stretching further yet you shove him off. “And im not a pretty boy”

“Please youre not the threat you think you are” you scoff attempting to bruise his ego and the way he steps forward lets you know you did but you never let your guard down to your surroundings and youre quick to pull out your gun aiming in his direction.

He chuckles crossing his arms over his broad chest and you may be uninterested but youre not blind to how his compression tee squeezes him in a way thats… satisfactory to the eye.

“Going to shoot me princess? I thought you were too good to get your hands dirty. Squeemish at blood even” he pokes until you release six shots shooting the men slowly approaching that he failed to notice.

“You fucking shot me!” He growls touching the tiny drip of blood from where the bullet grazed the tip of his ear just enough to break skin not cause any definite damage. 

Taking a bow you smirk before making eye contact with him the only gap in your mask being the slot for your eyes.

“Oh sorry about that pretty boy, ill do you a solid and let you tell shiu you got this one all on your own.” you tease knowing his pride wouldn't let him take the credit for something he wouldn’t do. 

“No i don’t want your pity kill” he seethes looking as if he’s ready to throw a tantrum yet you can only smile knowing you won this battle.

“Great more money for me” you grin running past him the location no longer serving you any purpose. It was time to cash in and Shiu didnt stay up past 2am.

Toji grabs your arm stopping you from escaping though before he could speak the faint sound of sirens in the distance growing closer.

“What? You goin’ to hold me here until the cops get here with these other dead bodies how do you think that’s going to look? A big, strong and muscular giant holding a petite young woman like myself” you victimize yourself and you watch the frustration grow in his eyes knowing he has to let you go.

“Its not fucking over” he hisses releasing you with a slight push making your smile grow even wider.

“Great more chances for me to teach a pup like you what not to do” you tease tearing off a piece of his shirt and pressing it to his ear. “Wouldn’t want your blood at a crime scene would we fushiguru”

And youre dissapearing into the darkness of night and he watches your silhouette slip down an alley until he no longer can. 

You may have thought you had the last laugh but he was best friends with Shiu. So when you near you third week of no assignment you figure its time to reach out to the former and see what the issue is. Learning that Toji somehow convinced him you wanted a break you decided it was time to cut your ties temporarily with the man and find a new “project manager”

The next assignment is the most you’ve ever been offered so high in the six digits it’s close to seven and for a simple retreival mission.

So when youre standing surrounded

“Toj

Waking up with a throbbing headache youre confused when you meet the eyes of a spikey haired 5 year old who is playing with a toy truck a black puppy not to far behind. He must feel you stairing since he turns to face you and gives you a toothy grin.

“My dad must like you, he doesnt let us wear hats in the house but let you keep your mask on” he stutters slightly and you reach up feeling the mask

[vin-taege]

requesting for chishiya !! i dont really see anything abt him being flirty, so i'd LOVE to see smth like after the game with king of diamonds when he starts to open up yk, maybe chishiya had feelings for op when they were at the beach but never told them that cause he didnt >want< to feel that way, but after all that talk with kuzuryu he wants to change but doesnt rlly know how so he just starts flirting with op at any given chance basically :]] like calling them pretty and holding their hand/waist yk and maybe just dropping some "wanna makeout?" but its SO CLEAR that hes trying really hard and has no idea of what hes doing (that man does NOT flirt usually

I AM FROTHING AT THE MOUTH FOR THIS !!

I am a firm believer that chishiya is definitely a huge antisocial dork outside of the borderlands and with his partner, so this request hits home

"A" for Effort

Summary: God, who would've thought Chishiya Shuntaro could fail at something so gracefully—alternatively, the one where Chishiya tries flirting for once.

Genre: fluff, aib!au, ooc chishiya (he's a dork in this one)

Pairing: reader x chishiya

Words: 1k

"You know, I can make a bomb out of that with enough batteries and wires." Chishiya mused, a hint of pride in his voice. You froze midway through your actions, the cola can you were holding suspended in midair, inches from your lips. "That's very cool of you, Chishiya."

"Yeah," he hummed. He slid his chair closer to you, making the old floor of the abandoned apartment creak. You'd be lying if you said his closer proximity didn't make your heart flutter.

Uncharacteristically, he slid an arm around you, seemingly aiming to land on the armrest on your other side. As soon as his palm hit the wood, it gave in with a sharp snap, making the blond jolt forward. His chin hit your shoulder, sticky soda liquid spilling as your arm jerked alongside it.

For a split second, he looked mortified, eyebrows raised slightly and his mouth agape. Quickly enough, he caught himself and slid back into his stoic expression. He cleared his throat, "I just have to cut that top part open. The wiring goes in and then the pull-ring after. It's really easy—I can teach you if you want."

His breath was on your skin, deep brown eyes burning into yours. When they're close enough, his eyes no longer looked cold nor judgmental. They were soft, gentle—they were windows to the vulnerabilities and brilliance hidden beneath his hard shell. His pupils seemed to dilate when he whispered, glimmering with wonder under the candlelight.

"You're really pretty."

Your breath hitched in your throat. Eyebrows raised, you let out a hum in surprise. What has gotten into him today?

"Sorry?" You couldn't help but smile. It was an awkward one, given how you were unused to interacting with him like this, but a smile nonetheless.

His arm was still around you, limply laying on the side of the chair before he decided to press it onto your waist. For the first time in his life, Chishiya's fingers trembled. He was praying you wouldn't notice the almost imperceptible way his fingers shook over the fabric of your shirt. You pretended not to notice.

"I think your lips are really pretty," he said as a matter of fact.

He didn't know why you were looking at him as if he just blew someone's head off. Truthfully, it wavered his confidence and he started to rethink his approach. You still hadn't said a word for you were trying to figure out if this was really happening, but he mistook this silence for rejection.

"I'll uh—" he moved away from you, standing up to go towards your makeshift bed of papers and pillows. The bed in the apartment came with questionable stains, and you were adamant about never touching it.

"Chish-"

"I'm going to sleep," he grumbled, frustrated at himself for failing at something he considered to be simple. Why was it suddenly so difficult to talk to you?

Whatever fire Kuzuryuu ignited in him has certainly dampened a bit. He felt defeated—stumped—that the perfect plan he concocted didn't pan out the way it usually would. He thought that now was the best time—he had just came off from beating a king, you found a place the King of Spades seemingly hasn't touched yet, and the both of you managed to unearth unexpired strawberry candies that actually tasted good. Today was supposed to be lucky.

He'd thought of all the variables, and processed the multiple backup plans he had up his sleeve, yet when that fucking armrest broke, they all went down the drain. He was curled up in a ball, back facing toward you. He didn't want you to see him in such an embarrassed—pathetic—state.

"Humans aren't formulaic," he thought.

Sighing, you stood up. You blew the candle, the resulting wisps of smoke trailing up towards the ceiling. Chishiya lay motionless, and if you weren't any wiser, you would've thought that he had actually fallen asleep already.

You sat crossed-leg next to him. The plastic of his earphones glinted under the moonlight, peeking through strands of bleach-blonde hair. You gently plucked the bud out and the blown-out bass of a heavy rock song greeted you. He tilted his head slightly in your direction.

You leaned down, bringing your lips closer to the curve of his ear. "I think you're pretty too."

For a beat, he was unresponsive. Then, he rolled onto his back, now facing you fully. His lips quirked up, giving you the smallest of smiles. He propped himself up on his elbows, cocking his head to the side. It's almost as if it was a challenge for you to continue.

"I don't know what got into you, but I do know that it gave me the courage to tell you this," you bit your lip. "I have feelings for you."

He cocked an eyebrow up, pleasantly surprised and almost in a teasing way. So the plan did work. Not in the way he thought it would, but it still came to fruition.

Your noses were almost touching. You wanted to close the gap, to meet his chapped lips that vaguely smelled of strawberries—he swore he wasn't using lip balm but you begged to differ. He was yearning for this as well. God, he was so mesmerized by you.

So pretty, so pretty, so pretty.

"If you're having trouble with getting the lid off, I can always help you with some pliers I found."

"What are you talking abou—is this about the fucking bomb again?"

He cut you off, finally pressing his lips against yours. Snaking his hand behind your head, he pulled you closer, deepening the kiss. You still hadn't quite figured out the intricacies of his mind. His behavior was sometimes erratic—although he was calm and calculative, he can also be unpredictable and warm.

There was a multitude of thoughts running through your mind, the loudest one being the drive for the both of you to make it out, to survive. And without saying it, you knew he wanted the same thing.