#most normal gush post ever

[transmimir]

I want to crumple him up into a ball shove him in my mouth and then chew him up before anyone can rescue him

[todayisafridaynight]

masato/aoki has been a hyperfixation of mine for almost 3 years now unfortunately he's a little worm in my brain slowly killing me off. this is half a response to some asks i've seen, a sort of explanation to aoki looking different to masato (which is definitely nonsensical in ways) may be because he's somewhat healthier than when he was as masato, hence he's not deathly pale, tired looking and a bit of weight gain maybe? (personally love his hamster cheeks as aoki). as a disabled person myself i don't think rgg really thought much through in his disability and the shit it can bring?? hoping yakuza 8 brings more context for him though i doubt it. again unfortunately,,, he's important to me regardless and ngl the hate he gets makes me upset sometimes. like he is definitely awful awful, especially aoki. my autism could write a whole deep dive essay about his character that no one wants to hear lmfao. also your masato art is a joy, just to let you know <3 as a fellow daigo enjoyer,, masadai ex boyfriends is the most valid and superior ship for masato lmao. ty for your service in this fandom 💪

damn im honored to be gettin a letter from THE ceo of ryo aoki themselves.. even if its anonymous ill still frame it on my wall hiii ty for writin <3

BUT YEAH that's what i figured in how drastic masato is from aoki- like his eyes notably lose that dark ring and his skin and lips get more color (tho that could be because he's in the sun more but who's to say it can't be both).

i really REALLY wish RGG wasn't so flippant about his disability, i go insane trying to figure out exactly what it is or what it could be so i can approach it better when portraying him and also just thinking about him. 'weak lung syndrome', surprise surprise, can mean a lot of things

it's already p cringe that they just poof it away with a lung transplant and get rid of it all together in ishin when there was no real reason to have him stand at all. like. he's literally in two scenes, one where he is sitting but the other he's just talking to the air while takechi sits in the room.

never mind im curious if he ever had to deal with his body potentially rejecting the new organ for a bit since that is a very real concern when it comes to organ transplants, but i get not really finding the need to dive into it since that transplant would have been 20 years ago and the chance to talk about it is slim. still, they could have at least give his initial illness a proper name or diagnosis if they were just going to make it disappear literally one chapter later

anyway, ty again for writin !!! i'm happy i can feed the worm that lives in your brain 🥰🥰🥰

[thatonesmartkidfromschool]

I like how I didn't even like Drayton that much at first but just. One day. Randomly. I realized "oh shit actually he's just like me fr" and I've been so obsessed ever since like HE'S ACTUALLY ME. ACTUALLY. FJSJDJWJDK

[screeching-bunny]

Yandere! Townspeople Harem x Lucky Reader

Warnings: Obsessive Behavior, Yandere Thoughts, Bad Writing, Stalking, Possessive Behavior, Reader is Referred as ‘You’

A/N: I have no clue what I was on when I wrote this 💀. This is also inspired by a Reddit post I saw long time ago.

🌟 Yandere! Townspeople who are absolutely enamored by you and everything that you do. They treat you as if you are some kind of entity waiting to be put on a golden pedestal and paraded around town. You are essentially the town’s golden boy/girl/person, a mascot if you can even call it that. In their eyes everything that you do is inspiring and encouraged. It also doesn’t help that you were born with this amazing power that causes you to become extremely lucky. No matter the deed, every action was thrust into the spotlight as if it were a gracious gesture for the community's well-being. Take, for instance, if you ever fatally shot someone the townsfolk would erupt in applause, discovering the individual to be a notorious mass murderer and your action saved the town.

🌟 Yandere! Townspeople who can’t help but gush over every miniscule achievement that you got. You got a perfect attendance award? They wouldn’t expect anything less from you. Did you just get a participation trophy? Well they're cheering for you as if you just won the world cup. To say their actions are embarrassing is definitely an understatement. Everytime they cheer for you, you can’t help but die a little bit on the inside.

🌟 Yandere! Townspeople who absolutely cannot fathom the idea of you moving out of their town. They would much rather skin themselves alive and commit arson than to allow you to leave them. Everywhere you go, there will always be some form of eyes on you. There will always be some type of survance of you at any time of the day. Depending on the person, the townspeople's love for you can either be platonic or romantic. Basically half of the town wants to fuck your and the other half sees you as their beloved child or grandchild.

🌟 Yandere! Townspeople who may or may not be human. Like sure they might have the occasional human sacrifices but what town doesn’t!?!? This is totally normal behavior that people exhibit. What’s that? Did you just see a tentacle coming out from that woman over there? Nahhh. You must be imagining that! What a cute and overactive imagination you have there. In all seriousness, it would literally die for you. You're just a cutie patootie to them. Your small teeth are so cute compared to their razor sharp fangs. You know, you could really use that small mouth of yours and suck on their–

🌟 Yandere! Townspeople have a monthly ritual where they gather around to brag about all of the items that they stole from you. Never in your life will you see someone so happy to own a pair of used underwear that didn’t belong to them or some used pair of socks. If you looked up a textbook definition of “down bad” then a picture of the Yandere! Townspeople would be the first images to pop up. In your presence these people act as if they had never touched grass or seen the sun before. They all seem to have some type of mutual agreement that in your presence, they would try to act somewhat normal in order to not scare/scar you too much.

—

From a young age, your luck was apparent. In school, while others struggled with exams, you breezed through them effortlessly, always managing to stumble upon the exact answers needed to excel. Teachers marveled at your natural knack for stumbling upon solutions, even in the most challenging of situations. As you grew older, the extraordinary luck only seemed to amplify. Job interviews turned into job offers within minutes, as if the universe conspired to ensure your success in every endeavor. Colleagues joked that working with you was like having a lucky charm around, as projects that seemed doomed to fail miraculously turned into resounding triumphs whenever you were involved. It might seem great and all BUT DAMN WAS THIS LIFE SO FUCKING BORING!!!! Which is why you decided to spice up your day a little and rob a bank.

“Oh hello [Reader]! Is this going to be the usual procedure?” The bank teller asks you with a smile on their face as you hold a gun to their face. “You know… the weather is perfectly nice today. It would be a perfect day for a date don’t you think–”

Suddenly a thunderous crash was heard, the police burst through the bank doors, their badges glinting under the harsh fluorescent lights. Guns drawn and voices booming commands, they swept into the lobby, faces masked with determination. Until the police chief sees you and lets out a tired sigh, “Guns down everyone, it’s just [Reader].” A faint sound of disappointed groans can be heard from the crowd of bank patrons from the back. “Why are the police here so soon, I didn’t get enough time to admire their pretty face.” another voice could be heard, “For real, their never this fast in an actual emergency. I mean they only just shot and killed one person, it's really nothing to worry about like who cares–”

—

“You are free to go [Reader], again.” the police officer states as she releases you from your handcuffs. “Turns out the man that you shot ended up being a drug dealer. You really have a special talent for catching criminals don’t you. She states as she gazes at you with loving eyes. “You know I’m free after this shift, you think we can–”

Before she can finish her sentence you walk away with a dejected look on your face. You couldn’t believe how boring a day this turned out to be. Seriously, you wished that something exciting would happen in this town for once you think to yourself. Failing to notice a scene behind you. One that consisted of a bunch of monsters eating the souls of the innocent while on their knees for a statue that seemed to look like you. They all seem to be gripping onto something though– HEY, WAIT A MINUTE ARE THEY HOLDING YOUR UNDERWEAR!?!!?

[ddejavvu]

Hii hope you’re doing well, I was wondering if I could request a criminal minds blurb where reader is Penelope’s best friend and they’ve met for lunch in a cafe near Quantico, and reader is telling Penny about this new guy she hooked up with a few nights ago, reader tells Penny how big the guy was and then a few minutes later Spencer walks in and reader is like “P omg that’s the guy!!” And gestures towards Spencer who’s the only person ordering at the counter? I just feel like Penny would be equal parts both shocked and horrified that her sweet innocent boy Spence has a sex life but also that he’s HUNG?? I literally love you and all your Spencer works and I feel like you’d write this perfectly 🫶🫶

this post is 18+, minors dni.

Penelope is absolutely enraptured by the play-by-play you're murmuring to her over the low din of the cafe's patronage. The whirring and grinding of the machines behind the counter only further aid in your attempt to keep your conversation private, and you can smell sweet strawberries on the bubbly blonde when you lean in to give her details.

"And he reached for his fly- ooh, Penny, the way his arms looked," You gush, remembering the thick veins that had corded his bone while he'd wrestled with his belt, "He whipped his belt out of the way, and- stop!" You urge her when she wriggles her brows at you, "He took his pants off, Penny, and I swear to god I've seen thighs thinner than that dick."

Her resulting squeal is much less hushed than you'd managed to keep the rest of your conversation, and you swat at the arm that's not holding her coffee. She gets the message but resorts to stamping her feet beneath the table instead, a repeated clicking that blends in much better with the mechanical whirring of the baristas' handiwork.

"He was so thick, and Jesus- Penny, he was long, too, just big all around," You recall, insides throbbing with a phantom ache at the memory of what you'd taken last night, "I swear he had me seeing stars," You sigh, glancing down at the pale pink ring of lip gloss around the mouth of your cup, "I'd beg him to come over again tonight, but I think I need a week to recover."

"A week," She breathes dreamily, "I could barely feel the last guy I had."

"Oh, I could feel him," You laugh, "It's like I still can, I'm pretty sure he bruised- oh fuck!"

"What?" Penelope's brow dips instantly, concern etched into her pretty features, "What's wrong?"

"It's him," You grip her hand, nails digging into her skin, "It's the guy from last night!"

"Big dick dude?" She asks, and your frantic nod confirms her theory.

She tries to be subtle, bless her, when she turns to see him, but when the only person that she sees standing in line for a drink is her coworker, her brain chugs along slower than normal.

Where's big dick dude?

Oh, Spencer's here!

I don't see big dick dude.

Spencer is-

You're not sure even the most talented actor could ever recreate the sheer horror swimming in her gaze when she turns to face you again. Her eyes are blown wide and her mouth, lined in a pretty fuchsia paste, is downturned in a grimace.

"Please tell me you're not talking about the skinny mess in the sweater vest."

"That's exactly who I'm talking about!" You gush, trying to avoid his gaze lest he thinks you're trying to follow him around, "Penny, isn't he dreamy?"

"That's- oh my god," She recalls your descriptions, thicker than thighs, longer than you've ever seen, "I have to resign."

[venomhoundfanworks]

Hazbin Hotel - Sleeping Habits

NOT TALKING ABOUT DIRTY STUFF. We talking about actual sleep-sleeping. Vent post I guess. Been feeling lovesick and missing having another person in the bed. Which inspired this post. Post about what its like to share a bed with Alastor, Vox, and Lucifer and their overall sleeping habits.

My other work can be found on my masterlist >>HERE<<

Contents/WARNINGS: Gender neutral reader; SFW except like one suggestive thing in Lucifer's section; I can't tell if writing Lucifer is making my own depression worse or better Actual brainrot below the cut ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈

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Alastor ₊˚ ‿︵୨୧

I know alot of people headcanon that Alastor doesn't sleep or sleeps very little. But Hot Take™ here: Alastor sleeps a completely normal amount. Like, 7-8ish hours. He just hides when he does.

I mean think about it. What emotion does Alastor hate expressing more then anything? Vulnerability. When are you (arguably) at your most vulnerable? When you are sleeping.

So I have it in my head that Alastor throws himself into special hiding places when he needs to rest. His room in the hotel with the bayou pocket dimension is a great example. Alastor probably has a hidden cabin in those woods. He actually considers the cabin his "room" and goes there to sleep. But good luck finding it.

Sleeping in front of someone/with someone is kinda a phobia of Alastor's. I wouldn't be surprised if this started developing after he killed someone in their sleep during his mortal life.

Anyway. When you and Alastor become a thing, there really is no defined point where he 'moves in'. It happens more like your boiling a frog. Gradually. Until you reach a point where you don't even know when things changed exactly.

Alastor slowly spends more and more time with you. More time with you inevitably results in him spending more time at your house. Which results in Alastor bringing, and leaving, more of his stuff at your place.

This cycle keeps going and going until one day the culmination hits you. It happens when your looking in your closet, the once messy and haphazard storage space is now tidy and perfectly split between your clothes and Alastor's. Thats when it hits you. The fact that Alastor is practically living with you now. Yet, not only have you two not talked about it, but Alastor doesn't spend the night. Ever.

Don't get me wrong, Alastor will spend all day with you. But when you tell him your getting tired or are about to go to bed, he bids you farewell, kisses your knuckles, and just kind of... leaves.

At first, you attributed his behavior simply to the time period he was from. But as time goes on you realize its something deeper then that. Although you are never fully sure if Alastor doesn't feel comfortable sharing a bed, or if the demon actually needs less sleep then you do.

There have been multiple times where you started falling asleep beside Alastor late at night. When Alastor got up to leave, you would grab the edge of his coat and plead with him to stay. Alastor would then settle beside you, gently caressing your forehead, and tell you that he would stay until your asleep.

During these times, Alastor will often gently hum if not outright sing to you in an attempt to lull you to sleep. One of Alastor's new favorite things to do is to settle in next to you with a nice book while you snuggle into his side and fall asleep.

Once your sleep, Alastor will gently put his book down and turn to look at you lovingly. Alastor is very much that type of weirdo who likes to watch you sleep. He finds everything about your sleeping self utterly adorable; and will happily gush about whatever you do just to embarrass/fluster you. When I say everything, I do mean everything. If you snore, drool, whatever it is, Alastor finds it endearing.

He will usually stay and bask in your sleeping glory for awhile before leaving. But Alastor always kisses your forehead goodbye. Its a little moment of vulnerability only he knows about.

Alastor is an enigma. While he has no problem staying with you until your sleeping soundly, he refuses to actually stay the night. The only time you can reliably get him to stay in bed with you is during his ruts. Otherwise, the stars just have to align right.

If you actually do manage to get him to sleep in the bed with you, Alastor is very much a big spoon. He likes to protectively wrap his arms around you and embrace you. Pulling your bodies flush together and assuring you both of the other's presence. Alastor will tangle his legs with yours as well; throwing one leg over your hip to pull you ever closer, and sliding the other one in between your legs for even more contact

Alastor won't complain too much if he is already laying there and you decide to wrap your arms around him, spooning him instead. But Alastor's preferred position is as the big spoon by far.

The big downside of sleeping with Alastor is that he will not let you go once he is asleep. I hope you don't have to pee in the middle of the night because this man's arms have you in a deathgrip you cannot escape from. It feels like his subconscious mind is afraid that if he let you go, he would lose you forever.

Alastor also nuzzles his face into the back of your neck and shoulders while he sleeps. Your not sure if this is actually an affectionate gesture or a deer scenting thing.

Alastor's ears always seem to be moving. They twist, turn, and flick around. Reacting to the smallest of sounds and listening for danger while he snoozes.

Overall Assessment: An acquired taste. Just like cannibalism.

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Vox ₊˚ ‿︵୨୧

Has the best internal clock out of the entire Hazbin cast (and thats not a pun). Vox is very consistent with his sleep schedule. He is in bed around 11pm-midnight, and naturally wakes up around 6ish. No alarm needed. Unless he has to wake up extra early for a meeting of course.

Honestly, this guy's internal clock is rock solid. The only times it gets fucked up are when Velvette and/or Valentino (mostly Valentino, lets be real here) drag him out to a party, bar, or club late at night. Vox never has a good time anyway, so he doesn't even know why he goes.

Vox always ends up trashed and staying up until like 3-4am. Not exactly a good idea when your body has been trained to wake up early. His body will wake him up only a couple hours after he went to sleep whether he likes it or not.

This usually ends up with Vox being super sick for a day. Because he is still kind of drunk, but also kind of hungover, living on two hours of sleep, and drinking coffee like its water just to remain standing. Vox is just a complete mess and no one knows why he came into work to be honest.

Vox goes to bed early that night (at 10pm; thats "early" for him), and wakes up the next day mostly recovered and reset. Mostly.

Once you and Vox get together, you help Vox's sleep immensely. Whether purposely or not, you start teaching Vox to prioritize his sleep more and how to get actual rest.

Vox can actually *gasp* take a nap if you do it together. He doesn't even remember the last time he was able to have one. But now he loves it and siestas become a regular thing the two of you share.

You also mess up Vox's internal clock. But in a good way. Yeah, Vox still wakes up like clockwork every morning. But if your snuggled into him and still sleeping, Vox can actually go back to sleep.

Vox's preferred sleeping position by far is the Nuzzle/Cradle. His widescreen forces him to sleep on his back so there isnt exactly many options... But Vox really wants to cuddle and touch you.

So youll inevitably end up draping yourself practically on top of him like a weighted blanket. Your head on his chest, listening to the steady rhythm of Vox's pulse, with his fingers gently petting you… Also like a weighted blanket, you comfort Vox in a way he cannot begin to explain.

Vox will get pouty if you don't like sleeping on his chest or its too hot to do so. He will deny through and through that he does it though. Vox is one of those people who is like 'IM NOT POUTING' as their bottom lip is sticking fully out.

But once you two start sharing a bed, Vox actually has to be touching you in some way. He doesn't know what it is, but he just cant get comfortable and starts getting restless when you two arent touching. So other good sleep positions that work well with him are the Tetherball or the Leg Hug.

For the Tetherball; Vox will just simply rest his hand on your hip while you sleep. This works best if your a side sleeper, cause then Vox can gently hold the curve of your hip. Drawing mindless shapes into your skin with his claws as you both go to sleep. This simple contact is more then enough to assure Vox that your there and safe so he can rest peacefully.

As for the Leg Hug; Vox feels weird about it at first. Sticking his leg out to the side, hoping for some contact. God, he feels desperate. But he needs to feel you. When he does, all his anxiety immediately melts away. When you reach your leg back and tangle it with his, Vox feels butterflies rise into his chest. You really do love him.

Once Vox is asleep, he is... odd, to say the least. He is simultaneously a light sleeper and a heavy one. You figure it has something to do with the technological parts of him and what they deem 'safe' or not. Like, what triggers his internal alarms.

For example, you can easily just get up from the bed, shake the bed, bounce off it, and Vox wont budge. Won't even move. But then someone sneezes outside his hotel room and he is up instantly.

Because of how light of a sleeper he is, it takes Vox forever to go to sleep. He is one of those people who has to lay there for a solid hour. Even then he rarely goes into actual deep sleep. Vox tends to go into this weird rest mode where his screen will start doing that old dvd logo bounce thing. If his screen is completely black however, it means that he actually managed to fully power down for once.

For the love of god, if Vox actually fully powers down, do not jolt him awake. Vox going into deep sleep like that is rare enough as it is. But waking him up suddenly from it makes him incredibly groggy. It honestly completely ruins his entire day because he feels like he never fully wakes up.

You can always tell when Vox is awake (or semi-awake) because he will be gently petting you, tracing circles into your skin as a way to sooth himself. The moment Vox goes to sleep, he stops. You've also noticed that when this happens, his hands tighten slightly into a protective grip on you.

Overall Assessment: The best one to sleep with on the list if your looking for actual rest. Too protective for his own good even in his sleep.

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Lucifer ₊˚ ‿︵୨୧

I hope you don't like actual rest too much. Because this guy has no idea what a sleep schedule is. I mean, he kinda did when Lilith was around. But since she has been gone everything has just been out the window.

As my fellow depressed people will know, it wreaks havoc on your sleep. One day you cant get out of bed and sleep twenty hours. Then you cant sleep at all and go days with only three hours of sleep total. This guy does that.

Not to mention this man is certainly, most definitely, somewhere on the spectrum. Thats also gonna fuck with his sleep massively. Lucifer will hyperfocus on a project and forget that 'oh yeah, food and sleep are things I need'.

Lucifer will hyperfocus on a new duck he is making and not leave his workshop for over 15 hours at a time. When he DOES leave, its only to make snack/food runs. Passes out on his workbench or tea-table constantly.

So uh. Yeah. Poor guy has no actual sleep schedule. When he starts staying at the hotel, Lucifer is commonly wide awake at 3am and highkey will scare the shit out of people like a ghost. Insomnia to the nines.

Once he is actually asleep, Lucifer sleeps like a dead man. Nothing can wake him up. This is a learned trait. In the height of his depression after Lilith left, Lucifer stopped seeing a point in getting up most days. He started sleeping through alarms, sirens, explosions... He just stopped bothering. What's the point? Its not like he has anything good to wake up to anyway.

Lucifer starts... trying to fix his sleep schedule once him and Charlie reconnect so he can spend more time with her. Well. Attempting would be a better word for it. Lucifer keeps doing that thing where he goes, 'oh yeah I should try going to bed early tonight', then proceeds to stay up past four in the morning. So no progress has actually been made.

Once YOU come around however, Lucifer actually starts sleeping normally again! Eh, kind of. Its a work in progress. But its progress! Which is MUCH further then he has gotten before!

The problem is, you have to trick Lucifer into sleeping. Otherwise he will keep trying to say he is busy, say 'just one more thing' to infinity, or start whining that he isn't tired.

So what do you do? Start kissing him and entice him to bed with the promise of cuddles. Or you can start kissing and nipping at Lucifer's neck with a different kind of sleeping in mind... (｡•̀ᴗ-)✧ He is sure to stay in bed with you if you wear him out first, right?

Another tactic that works everytime is to pretend to fall asleep next to him in his workshop. Sometimes this plan fails right away because you actually do end up falling asleep; but thats not the point here. Lucifer gets the most loving smile on his face as he picks you up bridal style and takes you to bed, only for you to grab his arm and pull him into the bed with you.

You thought it was a pain getting him into bed? Well he is a pain once he is in the bed too.

Lucifer is an actual koala. He can't just be touching you, oh no. He has to be embracing you. He has to be having as much contact as physically possible in order to sleep. It seems like every night his goal is to see what new shape of human knot he can tie you two in.

I hope you run cold or can tolerate heat well. Because like I said this is the ONLY way Lucifer can sleep. Lucifer will do whatever he can to make it work though. If you tell him your uncomfortable, he will change how your limbs are intertwined. If you tell him your too hot, whelp. Time to start losing some layers. And blankets are overrated anyways!

If you tell Lucifer you legitimately cant sleep like a pretzel, it will actually break his little heart. Lucifer will 100% take it as a personal rejection. He will stop sleeping in the bed with you all together so he doesn't "bother" you.

On a much happier note; once you two are tangled up and somehow manage to fall asleep, Lucifer is the cutest thing once he is sleeping.

Lucifer does that thing where he will half wake up in the middle of the night and kiss you before going back to sleep. If you do the same thing (or just generally kiss Lucifer while he is asleep), he will make little happy sounds in his sleep when you do so. You swear they sound kind of like bird cheeps.

Also thanks to >>this combo post<< by @poisned and @heart-of-the-morningstar I now have it permanently in my head that Lucifer talks/mumbles in his sleep.

Before you two got together, it was mostly nonsense or things about his ducks. But now you often hear him muttering your name, how much he loves you, or just saying other lovey-dovey junk in his sleep.

Overall Assessment: Lucifer is extremely difficult to handle, but doing his best. That's what really counts right?

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AN: Just a disclaimer, the thing about tricking Lucifer into bed by pretending to fall asleep in his workshop so he carries you isnt my idea either. It was from a cute fic here on Tumblr but I cant find it at all. ๐·°(⋟﹏⋞)°·๐ Please lmk if you know what fic Im talking about! I literally spent hours looking for it.

FURTHER READING ₊˚ ‿︵୨୧

Check out this ADORABLE fic about Vox trying not to wake up his very sleepy s/o >>HERE<< by @timeslugarts

One of my favorite posts is this super cute bedtime and pajama headcanon post by @activesplooger that can be found >>HERE<<

[yuri-is-online]

One Sided Love Triangles: Tokyo Debunker

Link to Twisted Wonderland Post

Because I hate when people have to lose. Though I'd be way more comfortable writing a normal love triangle for tdb than twst... there's a few of these bitches who could stand to be knocked down a peg or two.

Haru vs Peekaboo- betrayal never comes from your enemies does it. Haru wants to be happy you get along with his baby, and he's really grateful for your continued help in the anomalous animal sanctuary, really. He even originally found your interactions with Peekabo really cute! He's got a bunch of videos saved on his phone and everything but he can't help but feel just a wee bit bitter. He really wants to be the one with his head in your lap getting scritches and being told how cute he is. Something he'd never say to your face but whines about at the bar enough for Romeo to record and send to you. "For free?" Yeah for free he's had enough of this shit please come get your man MC.

Kaito vs Luca- this one is cannon to a degree I think... Kaito is deeply insecure about how much more confident Luca is around MC compared to him and how the girls on campus seem to like him more. The fact that he's so painfully oblivious doesn't help, meanwhile Luca is just overjoyed that his two best friends are in such a good relationship. You're genuinely perfect for each other, why all these secrecy and making him promise not to tell the other about the nice things you say? Isn't it natural to gush about your partner???

Towa vs Ren- Towa is such a pouty baby who doesn't fully understand his feelings and Ren is just happy to have a friend who understands the concept of a log in bonus. Neither of you fully realize that Towa is attempting to flirt, or would it be closer to say woo? All you know is one minute the two of you are casually chilling and talking about horror movies or something and then *BAM* Towa's thrown some flowers at Ren and pulled you into his lap. He's happy you wiggle to get comfy with him but very upset that you keep up your conversation with Ren. Stop being a good senpai and pay attention to hiiiiiiiiiiiiiiim.

Tohma vs Leo- just hear me out. I don't think Tohma really gets jealous? He seems super secure in himself and his abilities so he doesn't have much of a reason to get whiny and silly over MC, that's your role in the relationship. And he knows, logically that this little video Leo uploaded is bait to test the security on campus but it doesn't stop him from damn near cracking his phone in half when he sees it. That's how Leo wants to play this little game? Well fine, Tohma hopes he's ready to be thoroughly humiliated. No one can flirt with another man's partner quite as well as a bitch with a monocle. Leo is totally unaware any of this for the most part, he just assumes the extra irritation he's picking up on from Tohma is because he keeps spying on him and Alan. The fact he keeps teasing MC doesn't even cross his mind, he's just doing that to irritate you.

... as a side note can you imagine how confused everyone would get if Leo and MC kept picking fights about their upcoming "divorce" when no one even thought they were ever technically together. Except for Ritsu who sits you down to seriously try to talk you in to let him being your divorce attorney and still doesn't fully get that it's a joke by the time you're done. Actually while I'm at it:

Leo vs Ritsu- where that's exactly your dynamic but Leo starts catching some genuine feelings when he tries to crack a joke about you cheating on him with your divorce attorney only to realize that makes him unironically angry. How dare you, after everything you've been through. Wasn't he he enough? You know he can't treat you like he can. And you're just like "what can't treat me wrong?" And then you have a very toxic make out session Sho has to hear both of you scream about later while he seriously considers taking up a drinking problem.

Taiga vs Haru- this game has one character named Haru (ginger, baby) and one named Haku (green, evil?) Which confuses me an unreasonable amount. I already mentioned I wanted a serious Taiga vs Haku love triangle... but Taiga vs Haru would just be silly. You have MC who loves anomalous animals and hanging out in Jabberwock and Taiga who hates emotional intimacy and his feelings for MC just as much as he hates the idea of you being with anyone else. And of all people why Harry? He thought they were friends... or cool at least even if he won't let him eat that chinchilla thing. And now he's got MC playing defense for it too, it's irritating. He already has to fight himself to remember who you are every time he sees you again and go through the annoyance of recognizing he's a bit in love and now he can't even break into the animal sanctuary without tripping over himself and paying attention to you instead. It's annoying and it's all Haru's fault for having everything he wants. (If you ask he'll say that complaint is about Peekaboo but Haru and Romeo know it's not.) Haru is just trying to get some help from a trusted friend he's so stressed out ;-;

Sho vs Jin- Sho and his excuses... he doesn't want to just invite you to hang out and he doesn't want to ask you to come help him with the food truck because you've got so much else to do. You deserve a chance to rest, and he wants to be who you come to do that with. But Jin... he'd make that so much easier if it was him wouldn't he? He's rich and connected, and you're so sweet he's sure you could thaw that frozen heart enough for him to see you as human and not a gopher. Sho knows you, the moment he started paying attention to you he saw you as a person. But he still hurt you... and Jin didn't really do that did he? Jin doesn't like Sho because he's in Vagastrom and he doesn't trust him with your safety. Sho might see a rival and a better option, but what he's really dealing with is MC's disapproving dad who can't stand that their boyfriend has a leather jacket and a motorbike. He bets he's got tattoos and an arrest record too doesn't he MC, Jin is judging you so hard.

[thru-the-grapevine]

Deep End

Pairing: Choi Soobin x fem!reader

Summary: Soobin thinks you could be the most dangerous thing to ever happen to him, if he let you (or: not even the ambience of a city rooftop can distract Soobin from you).

Word Count: 5.7k

Tags/Warnings: mature content (minors dni), pwfwp (porn with feelings without plot), public sex, established relationship, man is a simp

Author’s Note: the lovely @chanis-banani has allowed me to post the birthday gift I made for her 🥰 I played myself by writing it for her because now I’m kinda nuts about him too. Whoops.

Soobin has never been a particularly possessive or territorial person before, so he’s unprepared for how it feels to see you in his shirt.

He watches you in the reflection of the hotel elevator, mesmerized. The shirt is a button-down, oversized even on Soobin. He’d helped you roll up each sleeve four times just to give your wrists some breathing room, and from how it fits on you, it gives the appearance that it’s the only thing you’re wearing at all. He’s trying very hard not to stare at your bare legs, focusing in on your little painted toenails to try and stay respectful. He’s not sure if it’s working. Nothing feels respectful about the way he looks at you these days.

The two of you are on a weekend trip to the city together, seizing the opportunity for quality time alone during a rare time when neither of you have anything in your schedules. You’d suggested pretending it was a fancy weekend, and Soobin had taken you at your word and sprung for a nicer hotel than usual, particularly because of how your face had lit up at the idea of a rooftop pool.

The two of you are on the way to this pool now, and instead of wearing normal clothes over your swimsuit, you’d insisted on borrowing one of his shirts. He’d agreed without really thinking about it, and once the sleeves were rolled up you’d declared it was perfect.

Soobin can’t disagree, either, because he can’t stop looking at you in it. Something about it being your idea makes it even better. He likes the way you look in it, but in a way he didn’t expect. Some sort of base instinct in his gut is glowing, seeing you in something of his.

Then again, you’ve always fascinated him, even before the two of you began seeing each other. You’ve always lit up every room he sees you in, something about how you carry yourself drawing the klutzy moth of him to you like flame. He’s never wanted to know so much about another person before. He loves learning every little thing that makes you laugh, that makes you chatty, that incites reactions in you.

He can’t believe he convinced you to say yes when he asked you out, amazed you allowed him to keep coming back for more. He feels like a naturalist who got outrageously lucky enough to get close to their favorite beloved wildlife, like he has to drink in and take note of everything he can get of you in case you spook and flee. Like he can puzzle out the mystery of you if he studies you closely enough.

You catch him staring in the reflection and make a silly face. He grins and makes one back, shifting closer to you and watching his reflection drape an arm over your shoulders. He’s realizing recently how often you draw him in, how he’s always looking for reasons to be as close to you as he can. If he really was a moth, he’d be scorched to a crisp by now.

He can feel you practically vibrating with excitement as the two of you step out onto the roof. There’s a huge grin on your face as you gaze around with eyes so big that Soobin knows you wish you had more of them to take it all in.

“Not too shabby, then?” He asks, charmed at the way you flit from place to place, exploring.

“What do you mean, not too shabby? It’s perfect,” you gush, gesturing from thing to thing and bouncing on the balls of your feet. “Look at the view, ugh, it’s so—and the pool? It’s perfect, the water is so pretty, it’s all so pretty here at night, look at all the other buildings lit up, I’m just—!”

You take a deep breath and blow it out slowly, face still aglow. “Okay. Calming down.”

He grins, making his way to a chaise lounge near the pool and sitting. “That’s the spirit.”

“Why is it so empty up here on a night like this?” You wonder, staring up and around at the nearby buildings and night sky.

A private smile twitches at the corner of Soobin’s mouth. “Yeah, seems way too nice out not to be up here.”

“Definitely nice enough to swim,” you muse, turning to him and batting your eyes once. “You’ll swim with me, right?”

It was never a question that he would, but Soobin feigns uncertainty. “Hmm...”

“Just for a little bit,” you insist, shoulders slumping, and he can’t help laughing.

“’Course, that’s why we came up here.”

You pout at him, making your way over to his chair. “Rude.”

He watches you approach, endeared at the little frown line between your brows when you pout, how it makes your lips even more distracting. “You’re just easy to bother.”

You make a face at him. “Just for that, you can have your shirt back.”

His mouth goes a little dry when your hands go to the top button, fiddling.

“Oh no, please, anything but that,” he tries to deadpan, but his voice rasps.

You roll your eyes, amused, as you pop the first button. “Perv.”

He can’t even refute you. It’s like erotic torture, watching you unbutton the shirt—his shirt; god, that really is doing things to him. The buttons are on the opposite placket than you’re used to, which means you move slower, and Soobin watches in an agony of lust as inch after inch of your skin is revealed.

You shrug the shirt off when it’s finally unbuttoned, tossing it into his lap and wandering to the edge of the pool. He tries to get himself back under control, but your swimsuit leaves so much less to the imagination than anything else he usually sees you wear that it’s impossible.

You look back over your shoulder at him, pausing on the steps descending into the water. “You coming?”

He nods, dazed.

You raise an eyebrow, smirk teasing the corners of your mouth. “You good?”

That depends heavily on what “good” means. He considers saying this, knows you’ll enjoy the philosophical banter, but when he opens his mouth his throat is too dry to speak. He shuts his mouth and clears his throat, giving up. “I...yeah. Great.”

His face feels hot when you wink at him, tip of your tongue between your teeth. Jesus.

He watches you wade down into the pool and tries to think of boring things, like taxes and bylaws and coding instructions, anything but how breathtaking every inch of you is. It doesn’t work, especially when you dip beneath the surface briefly, then come back up, swiping your hair back from your face more flawlessly than any model.

“Water’s fine,” you murmur, and something in your expression makes him think you’re fully aware that he’s wrapped around your little finger.

Maybe the water will clear his head. He grabs the scruff of his shirt and yanks it over his head. “Coming.”

He doesn’t bother with the steps, heads straight for the deep end and hops in. The cool water is a welcome shock to his system, as well as the muted quiet of underwater. He lingers near the bottom, waiting until his lungs ache for air to push back towards the shallow end.

When he resurfaces, you’re floating on your back, gazing up at the night sky. He swipes his hair out of his face and rises to his full height, angling to see you better. You have your mouth pursed in a specific way to keep from inhaling water, and your hair splays out around your head in the water in gentle, undulating waves, Medusa-style. There are little twinkling reflections in your eyes of the world you’re drinking in above you. Bliss in your face.

Oh no, a voice in the back of Soobin’s mind says, and looking at you feels like he’s made of glass and is being shoved off a high ledge. But Soobin can’t bring himself to be frightened, can only concentrate on the pleasant swoop in his stomach as he plummets. He thinks he might enjoy being shattered by you.

You jerk in surprise when you catch him watching you, a thrash of water. “Jesus.”

He feels a grin tugging at his lips. “Sorry,” he says, not sorry at all.

“Why are you just standing there staring, you weirdo?” You move upright again, and your mad scientist hair flattens into a streaming curtain down your back. Pale blue pool light reflects in little waves over your skin, and Soobin would believe someone in this moment if they told him you were a water goddess.

He can’t tear his gaze away from you, still grinning like a fool. “You’re interesting.”

You raise an eyebrow, teasing smile back on your face.

“Interesting, huh.”

“Mhm.” He starts wading your way at that dreamlike pace water always demands. Moth, meet flame.

“Me, or my tits?”

“I—that wasn’t what—” Soobin stammers. “What—I hadn’t even looked at—”

And he hadn’t, truly. Except of course they’re now at the forefront of his mind, now that you’ve mentioned them, and invisible magnetism keeps tempting his gaze down, a losing fight with the thought of them right at the top of his brain, and now he’s noticing your chest, half-submerged, the gleam of soaked skin and droplets in tantalizing places, noticing the wet cling of swimsuit fabric to curving soft skin. He wonders how it might feel to glide his hands over and under and around, whether you would feel cool or warm under his mouth, and his mind hadn’t been on this track two seconds ago, it really hadn’t...

He hears you snort, tears his gaze back to your face, schoolboy guilt bunched in his stomach.

“Mmhmm,” you say, unbelieving. Your pleased little grin eases the shame, a balm on his heart.

“Yah, I really wasn’t,” he protests. “...but now that you mention it...”

Your snicker is cute, everything about you is so cute, and when did this happen, how did this happen, how did you become the most irresistible thing in Soobin’s world without him catching whiff of it before?

You surprise him when you lunge for him when he’s close enough, your arms flinging around his neck, soft mouth covering his. Like kissing him is a relief, like to you he’s something special, something to look forward to. He’s not going to question why, even if his own appeal to you puzzles him, just pulls you closer with his hands on your hips and kisses you back.

You pull back far too quickly, and he frowns, missing you already. He’s immediately distracted, though, at the delicate feeling of your fingertips ruffling in the soggy strands of his hair.

“Thanks for springing for this place,” you murmur, grateful little smile on your face. “I love it.”

“’Course, baby,” he hums, trying not to feel too smug for nailing it. All of it was worth it just for this.

Your gaze follows a droplet of water traveling down his neck and over his chest. One of your hands leaves his hair, tracing the wing of his collarbone gently.

“You’re really hot when you’re all wet,” you admit, floating off your feet and hooking your legs around his waist.

Your positioning immediately stokes his carnal interest. He blinks, dazed grin spreading slowly over his face.

“Only when I’m all wet?” He teases, hands on a slow glide from your hips to cup beneath your thighs, holding you in place.

You tsk at him, fingers still playing in slow, hypnotic patterns through his hair and over his chest. “Fishing for compliments? Don’t tell me you don’t hear them all the time. We know what you look like.”

He loves watching your mouth when you talk. The shape of your lips is something he’s constantly cataloguing for long-term memory, both from looking at and feeling them with his own.

“I only ever want your compliments,” he says absently, thumbs drawing little circles on your thighs, completely mesmerized. “They’re the only ones that count.”

He can see the reflection of the flickering surface of the pool in your eyes. Something thrills in his chest when the edges of your smile turn a little shy.

“Flirt,” you murmur, leaning in closer.

He blinks, drawing the tip of his nose along yours slowly. He can’t remember what he said. He should try to remember, should take it down to use later, but you’re quite literally hanging all over him and you’re all wet in a swimsuit and your mouth is only inches away and he is not God’s strongest soldier, after all.

He leans down and fastens his mouth over yours, kissing you like he has all the time in the world. It’s quickly becoming one of his favorite things to do, finding all the ways your mouths can fit together. He teases the tip of his tongue along your lower lip, heart racing when you sigh into his mouth and open for him. God. The taste of you, mingled with pool water and the lip balm you’d borrowed from him earlier, is enough to turn off all the thoughts in his brain.

Mouth still playing over yours, he wades slowly backward, inching towards the pool steps, crouching as the water gets shallow to keep you both weightless in the water. His heel knocks against the bottom step and he stumbles back, kiss breaking as he sits down hard.

Your little giggle goes straight to his crotch for reasons he can’t decipher. He grins, sheepish, lifts himself up to sit on the next-highest step, reaching for your hips and reeling you back in. You straddle his lap without him even having to ask, more proof to his mind that you’re perfect, and when he tilts his chin up you meet him halfway.

Everything about you in his arms feels right, and Soobin feels something unidentifiable deep within him settling into place. All his senses are honed in on you, on your mouth moving with his, on the gentle chaos of your breath, on the soft suppleness of you relaxing into him as he kisses you with slow, consuming ardor. His hands slide in restless patterns over you, and eventually his mouth parts from yours and drags along the line of your jaw.

“For the record,” he murmurs, pausing to nip softly at your earlobe, “you’re really hot when you’re all wet, too.”

Your laugh is breathless, a bolt of heat to his gut. “Only when I’m all wet?”

“Especially when you’re all wet,” he whispers, nuzzling against the hollow beneath your ear, savoring how you shiver.

Your skin is cool beneath his mouth, and he makes it a personal mission to warm it again, openmouthed kisses gliding smooth and wet and hot along the expanse of your neck, the curve of your shoulder, the wing of your collarbone. He feels you hum and relax further into his lap, tension in your muscles melting you closer against him, candle wax near open flame. He marvels innocently at how incredibly silky you are, even over firmer places, how there’s a hint of you behind the chlorine on your skin, and he needs more of it, feels an itch in his brain for more you in his senses.

“Hey,” you protest halfheartedly as he fumbles with the ties of your swimsuit top. “This is a public pool, someone could come up.”

“Mhm,” he mumbles, hearing the words purely at a sound level, feeling the ties come loose in his hands with a slithery tickle. He nuzzles into the inside curve of your breast, nudging fabric away from wet skin, mouth slipping along the plush undercurve. Pure fascination wins out as he opens his mouth wider, bites, sucks.

He feels you twitch in surprise at the feeling, soothes his hands along your back in half-apology, laser-focused on the feel, the taste of you in his mouth. You’re sensitive here, not as excruciatingly sensitive as your nipples, but that just means he doesn’t have to be as careful, can let his curiosity at the feeling of you win unrestricted.

He continues nibbling and sucking in that spot, slides a hand around to your front and tugs the now-loose top away, tossing it behind him blindly. He feels your hands tighten on his shoulders when he settles his hand back on you, cupping your other breast. He eases the pad of his thumb in gentle circles over your areola, mesmerized at the way the skin puckers and tightens to a point under the lazy caress. He hears you swallow back a moan, feels one of your hands slide up and weave fingers through his hair, and that base instinct deep in his gut puffs its chest knowing that he affects you like this.

He lifts his mouth from your skin with a crude pop, other hand sliding from your back to brush a thumb over the hickey. He knows you love when he leaves them on your neck, but it still makes him shy to know other people will see them and make assumptions about what your love lives are like. This one, however, on this pillowy curve of skin that only the two of you get to see, is right up his alley. Satisfied with how dark it is already, he nuzzles your breast and settles his mouth over your nipple.

The little noise you make is adorable, and Soobin finds himself smiling against your skin. He traces his tongue over the budding peak, unhurried, takes your other nipple between his fingers and pinches until you gasp. He can’t resist rolling it slowly between his fingers, twisting one way and then the other as he circles the other in lazy circles with his tongue.

He hears a frayed whimper in your throat, the helpless wriggle of your hips against his inflaming him further. He’s never been addicted to a person before, but he’s hooked on you for sure, wants to take inventory of every inch of you, every reaction he can incite, every texture and scent and movement. He drags his mouth to your other breast and kisses your poor abused nipple gently, massages it better with his tongue as his hand takes over the one he left behind.

All of you drowns his senses—the cool slipperiness of your skin, the little whines you sigh out, the way you keep cinching yourself closer to him, burying your face against his hair, agonizing friction in your laps. He can’t stop himself from groping your ass and tucking your hips in tighter against his, fascinated by the feeling of your muscles twitching and contracting with desire.

He makes a noise of surprise when your hand in his hair tightens and yanks, angling his face up to yours. You crush your mouth over his, and his hands are immediately all over you, roaming restless paths over every inch of you he can reach, urging you closer. He wants to drown in you, be consumed by you, devour you with all five senses at once and then more.

It’s not enough. He wrenches his mouth from yours, panting, tapping your hip.

“Up,” he pants.

You hesitate only a second before moving off of his lap. He stands quickly and takes your hand, sloshing his way up the remaining steps and out of the pool with you in tow.

You seem to be on the same wavelength, to an extent, matching his pace as he makes his way over to the chairs with your things on them. He guides you in front of him, a twinge of fondness in his chest at the sight of your arm attempting to cover your chest, as if that doesn’t just make them look especially sumptuous, and he wants his hands back on you, wants to test how squishable—

“Down,” he pants, hand nudging your shoulder until you sit on the chaise, then nudging again until you lie back. His other hand is already untying your swim bottoms, one side and then the other, gaze laser-focused as he leans in and presses a kiss low on your abdomen, parting your legs.

“I—wait, ‘Binnie,” you protest, hand coming to his head. “Stop—we are outside, someone could look out a window and see—”

“Don’t care,” he mumbles against your skin, mouth already gliding along the inside of your thigh. The looming buildings nearby, the vague hum of city life stories below, the night sky, the pool, everything is in a foggy haze in Soobin’s mind. His only focus is you, on how downy soft you are, how you shiver as his tongue darts out to catch at water droplets on your skin.

“Easy for you to say, you’re still wearing someth—ah,” you squeak as Soobin yanks your now-completely untied bottoms away, balling them up absently in one hand and hurling them to oblivion. “Wait, I’m serious, Soobinnnnnnngh.”

He groans into the apex of your thighs, mouth open wide and tongue flattened along as much of you as possible. God, yes, this is exactly what he’s after, concentration and essence of you overwhelming his senses. Slowly, he curls the tip of his tongue, dragging his mouth up, the motion gently parting wet layers of inner softness. You slap a hand over your mouth, moaning as the tip of his tongue laves over the sensitive crest at the very peak, and he lingers there for a moment, leaving an openmouthed kiss.

Blindly, he fumbles above him, finding your arm and pulling your hand away from your mouth, anchoring your wrist to the chaise. He feels your other hand tighten hard in his hair as he continues leaving wet, sucking kisses all over the sensitive tucks and pleats of flesh, working you up with ruthless patience.

He daydreams about this more often than he cares to admit, even more so when the two of you are apart, and he’s determined to learn and implement the way you like it best, the way that makes you lose all sense of shame. Admittedly, he gets a little carried away in part because you’ve told him your former partners were merely passable at eating you out. His competitive streak, combined with this growing obsession with you, make him determined to be extra attentive whenever you grant him this opportunity.

It’s difficult to stay focused, though, the hot and wet feel of you on his mouth, the taste of you on his tongue, enough to make him delirious. He easily gets lost in the savoring, mapping every inch of you under his tongue, lingering in places just because it makes you tremble and whine like you’re desperate for him, and he wants you just as desperate for him as he feels about you.

He hums into you, delighted, when your legs close in around his head as he closes his mouth over your clit and sucks. Everything goes muffled, even the little moans of his name you’re trying to bite back, but it hardly matters when he can feel your limbs shaking, feel you hot and throbbing against his mouth. You start trying to buck your hips into his face, and he slides his free arm over your abdomen and pins you down, steadying you both. He tongues over you in wet, languid strokes, feels the clenching flutter of the entrance into your body. Pure fascination drives him again, and he strokes you there again, stiffening his tongue and driving it into you.

Oh, god. The tight, blistering heat of you, the taste, nearly unmans him. He moans into you, guttural, and nearly loses his mind at the way he can feel your inner muscles fluttering and clenching rhythmically on his tongue like a heartbeat.

The overwhelming need to make you come slams into him like a tidal wave. He’s determined now, anchoring you in place and delving his tongue into you in delicately aggressive thrusts, nuzzling into you deeper and deeper. He can hear you whining even with your thighs muffling his ears, the sound increasingly desperate, and he wants to give you anything in the whole world that you want, would roll over and bark if you asked, so he doubles his efforts and slides his mouth back up to suck and tongue at that most sensitive bud, wringing sensation like raw honey from the comb.

He wonders for a brief moment if he could come just like this, completely untouched with his face buried between your legs, moaning into you like your pleasure is his own, and if that makes him a munch then so be it. And then you tense and tighten against him for a full moment and the pleasure uncoils, your whole body arching and shuddering in euphoria. He shoves his tongue back into you and moans, lightheaded at each of the siphoning ripples of fulfillment pulling him in deeper, drunk on the little sobs of pleasure you make.

God. He’s never wanted anything as much as he wants to be wrapped up in you right the fuck now. He eases you through the quaking pulses of ecstasy and starts fumbling with the drawstring of his swimsuit, taking care not to touch himself for fear of blowing his load in his pants like a teenager. Raw need claws at his insides like a rabid animal, desire to make sure everything is perfect for you warring against his impatience, his craving to skip over things like a condom and gentleness and—

Condom. Oh. He remembers reminding himself to grab one, remembers seeing the box of them tucked into his bag and knowing one would be needed, and yet here he is, empty-handed. Fuck.

“We have to go back to the room,” he groans, leaning back and mopping his chin with the back of his hand. “Now. I need to be in you more than I need to live another day.”

Through your pleasured exhaustion, a lazy smile forms on your lips. You shake your head, glancing over and gesturing at his dress shirt you’d borrowed.

“Don’t need to go back downstairs,” you breathe, and fuck, your post-orgasm voice is devastatingly sexy. “Get the shirt, I brought a condom.”

He blinks at you, once, twice, not comprehending. “You...”

Color flushes over your skin prettily. “I...I thought it never hurts to be prepared. For anything.”

Soobin is trying to process that you’ve had a plan for being up here that involves a condom. Dazed, he glances over at the neighboring chaise, reaches for the shirt.

“Is there a condom...in the shirt...?”

Your breathless giggle ties his insides into little knots.

“You didn’t notice the weird shape in the breast pocket earlier?” You ask, eyes crinkled in mirth.

Through the haze of oh my god she wants us to fuck, Soobin finds it in him to be indignant again. “I wasn’t looking at—I was trying not to look, you know, at...”

He huffs a sigh as he extracts the condom from the shirt pocket, unable to stay annoyed even as you keep giggling at him.

“Here I was trying to be respectful,” he tsks, smiling even as his ears grow hot.

You snort. “Ah yes, the respectful boyfriend that strips his girlfriend at a public pool and commits sex acts on her where anyone could stumble in on them.”

“No one’s going to stumble in,” Soobin breathes, trying to make his hands dry enough to tear the condom packet open.

“What do you mean?”

“Pool’s closed,” he says, giving up and tearing at the packet with his teeth.

“The pool is closed? Are we going to get in trouble for—”

“It’s not really closed,” he says. “I just paid the front desk to tell the rest of the hotel guests that it’s closed.”

You stare at him for so long in stunned silence that he starts feeling a little antsy. “You bribed the hotel...so you could have sex with me?”

“I would bribe anyone with anything to spend even five platonic minutes alone with you,” he protests, fumbling the condom out of the wrapper.

He stills when you grab his wrist, arresting him with your stare. There’s something at work behind your eyes, something he doesn’t know the name for.

“What?” He whispers.

After a long moment, you swallow. “Nothing. I just...no, nothing. Here, let me.”

You keep eye contact as you slip the condom out of his hand, and he shivers when your other hand brushes down his abdomen. His breath stutters when you take hold of him, and he feels himself twitch in your hand after going so long neglecting himself.

If he doesn’t redirect his attention he may still finish before he can even get inside you. “People might—might still be able to see from windows,” he stammers as you roll the condom on, spreading your legs.

You shrug a shoulder, abashed smile still on your face. “If they see, they see,” you breathe.

Sometimes you make him breathless.

“Remind me not to believe you,” he murmurs, settling himself between your legs, “when you say you’re too shy to do this out in the open.”

You laugh as he drags his tip over you, catching on your entrance. “Don’t push it, this is a special ca—ohh.”

Ohh, indeed. Soobin moans and drops his forehead against your temple, feeling what little remains of his sanity obliterating the further inside he eases into you. You’ve been intimate like this before, but no matter how prepared Soobin thinks he is, every time feels like the first time all over again. Nothing ever truly prepares him for the scalding hot, wet glide into unimaginable tightness, for how even when you’re relaxed, he has to bully himself into you inch by inch. He’s shaking with the effort to be gentle, nudges his hips slowly until bit by bit, all of him is enveloped snugly inside.

“How can you feel this perfect,” he groans, most of the willpower left at his disposal exerted on lasting, good god he needs to last even just to feel you around him like this for longer—

You laugh again, breathless, and the way that feels when you’re connected like this is sinfully good. “I try.”

“No you don’t,” he gasps, rocking his hips gingerly into yours. “You just are.”

You whimper as the angle of his hips drives him into a sensitive place inside of you. He grinds into the spot again, careful, his restraint threadbare but hanging on.

“Please,” you pant, hitching your knees further up, and the adjustment of angle forcing him even deeper.

Soobin nearly chokes on his own tongue. Fuck. He thrusts like he’s afraid of himself, mantra of don’t come don’t come don’t come flooding the forefront of his mind, sheer force of will.

“I won’t break,” you plead, voice so breathy and fucked-out it belongs in high-end porn. Sweet merciful god, he can’t do this.

He feels your mouth drag along his shoulder, and then a flash of sharpness. His body reacts to the bite before his mind can catch up, hips surging hard against yours, strangled noise punching out of his throat. Your legs tighten around him, intimate muscles clenching in that way that means hell yes, and the groan from deep in his chest is inevitable as he snaps his hips again. Fuck.

Yeah, okay, he can do this for you. That base instinct in his gut purrs like a feral dragon at the way you can no longer hide your moans, being fucked like this. His new goal now is to build stamina, he’s determined, needs to be able to do you exactly how you want it for hours without stopping. He thinks he might be moaning too but he can’t hear, so preoccupied with drinking in every clench of your muscles around him, every little pleasured expression on your face, addiction to every part of you wrapped around him like this so intense he feels lightheaded.

He can’t tell if you’re shaking or he is, only knows you’re pulling him in like you aren’t already as close as it is humanly possible to be, like that somehow isn’t enough, like you can meld yourselves into a singular being if you try hard enough. Your fingernails dig hard into his shoulders, your breath stuttering in that way that tells him just what’s coming next, and then you shatter around him.

You become impossibly tighter around him, bearing down with rhythmic spasms luring him deeper inside, as if that’s even possible, like he hasn’t been working himself as deep into you as he can go, purely for selfish reasons. He never wants to leave, would live inside you if he could, and he loves that you get like this with him, loves the way you go soft and pliant when the release begins ebbing, god, he loves—

His release hits him with no warning, no buildup, hard as a bullet train. Fuck. It feels like nothing that’s ever happened to him before, and a stab of panic electrocutes him through the feeling. His ears are ringing, alarm bells tolling danger in his bones, and he feels out of control, completely gone, glass making impact at last and shattering into far-flung pieces, impossible to gather again. It’s all he can do to gasp for breath, clutching at you like handfuls of sand that keep slipping away, hips rocking into you, slow, rhythmic, with a mind of their own.

Your arms slide around his back, warm pressure like an anchor point, and just with that, with your tight embrace and each deep breath you take, you’ve found each piece of him, binding him back together. Only now the essence of you fills in the cracks, the healing balm, each sinew of him now limned with your glow. A moth made of flame.

Soobin tries to take as even breaths as possible, tries to sound calm, rests his face against the chaise next to your face and feels a hot stinging drip from his eyelashes.

He knows what that look in your eyes was earlier, he realizes. The unidentifiable emotion. He knows because it’s clicking for him right now, the knowledge that he feels that way, too.

Admin Ellie’s Masterlist

[avelera]

One thing that's amazing in the storytelling of Arcane S1 is that you can actually chart the hypergrowth and societal polarization caused by Shimmer and Hextech in Piltover and Zaun by how the number of average-looking people among the main cast diminishes.

A proper post on it would include a bunch of pictures and stuff but basically:

Ep 1.01-1.03 you have a few people who look like "main character" outliers, like Vi and Powder with their pastel hair, or Jayce and Viktor with their golden eyes that symbolizes their unique intelligence and shared vision, Mel with her gold accent makeup and stunning looks, Silco has his unusual eye but is otherwise a normal, fragile person, but overall they are rare extraordinary people who make up a small percentage of the population of people with brown hair, normal colored eyes, and fairly average builds.

This is a society more or less in-balance. Singed still looks like a fairly normal, Sevika has both arms and no Hexgem scars, Vi has no tattoos, Vander is just an unusually large but otherwise normal looking dude. He's a little larger than life as a societal figure and that is reflected in his design, because he's otherwise a normal person.

From 1.04-1.09, the narrative is dominated by people who, if you ever saw them on the street, would be the craziest looking person you ever saw in your life. You've got Finn, the tattoed undercity chem baron, and really all the chem barons are crazy looking, you've got Vi and Jinx with tattoos now, you've got Sevika with her robo-arm and glowing blue scars, Singed with half his face burnt or clawed off, Ekko with his facepaint. Suddenly, everyone looks painted or tattooed or extraordinary in some way, and normal people can't keep up anymore. They vanish into the slums of the undercity, if they're like Huck they try Shimmer to feel powerful only to be poisoned and destroyed by it, or like Viktor experimenting on himself.

The whole world is going insane and the only people who can survive are the most extraordinary, and that's not healthy for a society, you shouldn't have to perform at the top, most unusual, most extraordinary level just to survive.

Anyway, one reason I've gushed about S1 of Arcane for years and years is how they intimately tie in the script with the visuals with a wonderful understanding of societal hypergrowth and those it leaves behind and you can actually chart this very disturbing evolution in Piltover and Zaun by how few normal looking people you see as the situation there accelerates to a boil.

[myillicitaffair]

Somethin’ Stupid | Charles Leclerc

Summary: while being interviewed by his former lover, bottled up feelings find their way out.

Warnings: english not being my mother tongue, lots of angst, some swearing, arguments.

Notes: this is the first time i’m ever posting anything on here, i hope you enjoy it xx

1.5k words.

Letting myself fall into his abrasive webs was surprisingly easy. His green orbs, pervasive and curious, piercing my soul.

We had our ups and downs, unbridled passion slowly dying with each tear shed, magnetic attraction burning my lungs.

We found ourselves in a hiatus, which found a way of prolonging itself further than I would have liked to. Perhaps he managed to keep himself occupied with his busy schedule; trainings, special dietary requirements, public relations… as for me, I rather hold my silence.

My routine was overflowed with his voice, with how much I missed his touch on my lower back, guiding me through the crowds, our hands intertwined in a tacit promise.

However, life demanded to continue with apparent normality. Dinner parties surrounded by friends, rounds of drinks avoiding alcohol… The last thing I needed was to degrade myself into a melancholic drunkenness.

Was he also having a hard time with the abysmal coldness on the other side of the bed or the loneliness of not having anyone to dilute your sorrow over morning coffee with?

My days had fallen into a sort of routine; waking up while missing him, showering while missing him, having breakfast while missing him… I think you get how thing are.

This particular morning, Silverstone was extraordinarily cloudy, the mist engulfing my view from the hotel room. How fitting!

Running away from my surreptitious misfortunes, I head downstairs, soaking up the competitive environment prior to every race. Emboldened as an agitated swarm, my colleges and me descended on the designated circuit.

Tedious security controls accompanied the anticipated fun, a hammer already pounding into my head at the thought of seeing him face to face once more.

Walking towards the space where the press was condensed, I check the days schedule for the last time. I am lucky enough to maintain friendly interactions with most drivers, so as to achieve fluid interviews, keeping the audience on the edge of their seats.

The only reason I can find as to why that fateful name is written on my list of drivers to interview was that God and I clearly have some unresolved business… funny timing to make me pay the price though!

A lump gets stuck in my throat just by thinking about it, preventing regular air flow.

The countdown only stuns me, even though my duty doesn’t start until the last lap. The smell of burnt rubber, product of speeding wheels, fills my lungs while intoxicating my nostrils.

The continuous lights turn red with overwhelming precision as seconds go by, lightning up the faces hidden with baklavas and iconic helmets.

Unconsciously (or maybe not so much), my eyes crawl back to the speeding number “16” that, red and furious, slides around the circuit while attempting to memorize every bump and curve along the way.

Chasing the sequence with collective looks of astonishment, a collision comes rushing down, disabling Piastri and Norris by the arrogance that only clear disagreements gives you.

Without further issues, the race concludes with a podium conformed by both Red Bull Racing drivers, trailed by seven time world champion Lewis Hamilton.

As possessed by group madness, the journalists rush into the victors. Microphone in hand, cameras shadowing us, content hunger gushing from our pores.

Driven by a exacerbated sadness, I shift my focus from the winners to him, returning my gaze with clouded tear ducts, bottled up frustration visible in his features.

With a touch on my shoulder, I’m brought back to reality by a co-worker, who, with a subtle shift of her head signals my awaiting obligations.

I head towards my press conference, where I take a seat with my name on it, psyching myself up for what I’m sure will be the most awkward interview of my whole career.

Dressed in Ferrari clothing and constantly stalked by flashes, both pilots near the platform where I await. They settle into their designated spots, holding still until the cameraman says otherwise.

I steal one last glance at my premeditated questions and hide my true feelings behind a focused frown.

“Welcome dear viewers! We find ourselves in the eleventh race of the year, accompanied once more by our friends from Ferrari, Charles Leclerc and Carlos Sainz.”

I desperately try stabilizing the noticeable shake in my voice.

“Friend”- the Monegasque interrupts my monologue with a mocking remark.

The puzzled look his teammate throws in his direction doesn’t go unnoticed by the former, who insists on jointing his glistening irises with mine.

I decide to ignore the brief impasse in the speech, running away from his calculated sarcasm as I force the corners of my mouth into an attempted smile.

“so, Carlos… do you think driving behind two cars that crushed ruined your performance?”- I question, tripping over my words under Charles´s scrutiny.

“It´s safe to say it wasn’t an unexpected accident”- the Spaniard pronounces, doing his best at minimalizing the awkwardness- “for at least a couple of laps, Oscar and Lando were teasing each other, clearly trying to gain advantage over the other. They were lucky enough neither of them got hurt.”

I nod absent minded, vibrating due to the pounding against my ribcage.

“Charles, what can you tell us about your engineers’ strategy for this race?”- I swallow loudly, praying he can´t notice the mesmerizing effect he has on me.

“I guess you could say I’m not entirely satisfied with my team´s execution this season”- he confesses, minimizing the tingles of frustration running down his spine- “It would also be quite unfair dumping the blame on my team when my failure has more to do with me letting my emotions get the best of me.”

The tension is intercepted by a longing sigh I didn’t know I was withholding. The world seems to stop in its euphoria simply to hang in his every sentence.

“A broken heart is no joke… even less when you have to patiently wait for the piece they decide to donate you”- he reproaches without saying my name but making it perfectly clear that I was indeed the recipient of his raw address.

My anxious movements become motionless, forgetting the when and where, just to focus on the displeasure bubbling in my stomach.

“Guys, I really don´t think it’s appropriate to discuss this now”- intercepts the Madrilenian, proposing a ceasefire.

Mi hand goes up in the air before I can help it, shutting him up mercilessly.

“I wonder where I must´ve learned it…”- I reply, drowning in the unexpected harshness of my tone- “don´t forget who was the one to suggest this ´no strings attached´ bullshit between us.”

The drivers face shines with a scandalous blush in response to my bravado. Right here and there, I comprehend the dept of his anger, making its way through his collarbones, until it climbs up his cheeks.

“Just because I thought that’s what you wanted”- he spits out his resentful response.

From the corner of my vision, I perceive Carlos´s discomfort by reading his body language; the friction of wiping away the sweat stagnant on his hands, his shoulders pouring forward in a clumsy attempt of hiding from the cameras, his chair weakly shaking under the constant bouncing of his extremities.

Madness atrophies my reasoning, blinding me enough as to not have merci on his apprehension. I took this way too far, it would be useless to swallow my feelings.

“how in the world could you think our agreement benefitted me? Really, Charles, you couldn’t be any more stupid!”- I scream back, jumping up from my seat.

The swing of my feet gets ahead of my thoughts, allowing me to run away from the premature conflict before it blows up in the air.

Mi face heats up from the warmth of my own tears, that start rolling down my cheeks. With each involuntary spasm of my jaw, sobs escape my gasps for air. I don’t dare to slow down.

“Can you please just listen to me?”- a voice behind me shouts, trying to stand by my side.

I turn around to face his scrunched up brows.

“you have nothing else left to make up. You may convince somebody with the whole ´heartbreak boy´ façade you’ve got going on, but you have genuinely driven me mad”

“You and I both now that isn’t true! Have you ever wondered why I always seem to take a step back after every show of affection?”- he manages to freeze me to the core- “How come you never noticed my excessive efforts to stay away from you? I can’t even behave like a functional human being if I’m not feeling you, touching you, having you with me.”

In the middle of the paddock, with every pair of eyes set on us, events unfold the way I’ve been dreaming of, however I can´t even react.

“I know I´m not in a position to ask you anything, but please, strip me from the torment that uncertainty means… even if that means to completely destroy me”- he whispers with renewed fragility.

My smirk slowly becomes uncontrollable laughter, reducing me to unbridled chuckles. I shelter the vestiges of my giggling in between his arm, until It ceases in its intensity.

Without noticing, I search for his lips with my own, craving the heat they irradiate.

“I think you know perfectly well how my soul aches for you”- I manage to sneak in between kisses, stumbling across his smile, displayed in all its glory.

[shadamyheadcanons]

Headcanon #300!!!

Cross-posted on AO3.

I was mentioning my headcanon that the Robotniks are Jewish, and @ppeachx3 shared this delightful set of figurines:

Naturally, Shadamy ensued.

--

With all the trauma Shadow had suffered in his life, it was no surprise that he developed more than a few unhealthy coping mechanisms. Anyone who’d ever seen his face could tell that hiding the extent of his feelings was first on the list, and Shadow was damn good at it. Feelings, smiles, tears, and all forms of vulnerability were buried under his stone mask. Irritation. Fury. A particularly good day might bring out apathy, but Shadow hid all else, standing strong and serious against the biggest of threats, keeping anyone who could hurt him at a distance.

What he hadn’t accounted for, however, were the little things.

Once Amy learned that Gerald and Maria were Jewish and Shadow celebrated Hanukkah every year in their honor, she beamed, thrilled to have learned something new about him. The very next day, she skipped into their living room and lovingly placed a pair of sickeningly cute Hanukkah decorations on their mantle.

“Look, see, it’s US!” she’d gushed before pressing a sweet kiss to his cheek and dashing into the kitchen to make dinner for them.

Shadow watched her go, then turned his attention back to the silly, saccharine figurines on the mantle. Their brown felt bodies vaguely resembled latkes, and each one bore a different colored topping—one sour cream, the other applesauce. Shadow snorted.

Ridiculous.

Their stitched-on smiles stared back at him.

Cheesy.

The figurines matched and held hands, as if they were happy just to be together.

Shadow clenched his jaw and tried to summon contempt.

He tried so, so hard.

“Look, see, it’s US!”

Shadow’s gut lurched oddly, and his lips gave an involuntary twitch.

She didn’t even know what a latke was yesterday, but she went out and got these just for me. She saw something this cute...and thought of me.

He could hear Amy happily humming from their modest but cozy kitchen.

Shadow’s heart thumped faster, feeling heavier than before as he stared at the figurines, and his chest tightened.

Suddenly, he remembered himself and shook his head, clenching his fists stubbornly against the emotions he could normally stifle.

No. Not like this. Not for these stupid things! They’re just—!

The scent of Shadow’s favorite food wafted soothingly under his nose, seasoned with what he knew was exactly the right amount of hot sauce, reminding him that the sweetest woman on Earth felt he was worth it. Shadow planted his feet firmly to ground himself, but his body still shook.

Not here. Not now. Not like this, dammit!

The most adorable holiday decorations in the world smiled back up at him, almost taunting him.

It’s...real. It’s mine. Every day. I—

The horrors of loss and pain he’d endured bore down on him for years as he matured, making him feel he wasn’t entitled to such simple joy and affection.

Until Amy entered his life, bringing light and love with her and reassuring him that he deserved happiness just as much as everyone else...and as his gaze burned through the silly decorations, it hit him like a ton of bricks.

For the first time...he believed her.

Shadow’s breathing picked up, and his heart raced. At first, he didn’t notice Amy’s voice from the other room asking him something about drinks. His eyes widened as he tried to hold his feelings back.

He wasn’t sure how long he stood there, blood pounding in his ears, before a welcome voice rose up from the din.

“—dow? Shadow? Are you–”

Shadow flinched and turned around with trepidation.

The moment their eyes met, Amy gasped and covered her mouth, looking at him the way one would look at an injured animal. He just barely managed to choke back his reaction.

It would’ve been much easier if he didn’t feel so goddamn safe around her. If his brain wasn’t so sure he could be vulnerable around her, that he didn’t always have to be strong. If she hadn’t built that trust from the very day they met.

She took a few hesitant steps forward. “Shadow, what’s wrong?”

As if he’d only been waiting for permission, he broke. Tears instantly poured down his face, and his throat closed up around the sudden sobs that escaped him.

She immediately closed the distance between them and pulled him into a protective, reassuring embrace. He returned it immediately and tried to reply past his hiccups. “S-sorry...I just—”

Amy rubbed his back. “Shh...it’s okay. I’ve got you. You can tell me when you’re ready.”

An embarrassing whine escaped his throat. “It—it’s stupid. I—”

“No, it’s not. It’s not stupid. I’m here.”

Amy held him for a long time, longer than anyone else ever had, until he stopped shaking and his sobs abated into unsteady breaths. Shadow pulled back just enough to meet her concerned but patient gaze.

The words tumbled unbidden from his lips, telling her of his feelings—the pain, the confusion, and the utter love and happiness she’d given him. He didn’t even attempt to hold back; try as he might, he’d never been able to hide anything from her. His heart had been starved for safety and security for so long that whenever the two of them were alone together, the emotions spilled out of him of their own accord.

Amy spent the rest of the evening proving how much she loved him—not just through words, but through little actions, too. He ate the most delicious meal he’d ever tasted that night, perfectly seasoned and slightly burnt from how she’d prioritized comforting him over cooking. She gave him water for his dry throat and brought him painkillers to soothe the headache his breakdown had left behind. She shampooed his quills while he showered, and once they dried, she gently ran her fingers through them with ungloved hands, straightening and grooming them the way only a hedgehog could, the way only she was allowed to. At last, she lightly scratched his ears and held him as he drifted off to sleep.

The last thing he remembered before a relieved, exhausted slumber took him was her soft voice singing a quiet lullaby he’d always loved.

Amy’s singing voice was average, no more special than anyone else’s.

But to Shadow’s ears, it was beautiful.

[love-toxin]

i dunno if you care about my gushing about leon being infected but.

god the remake made it so much hotter and i don’t see anyone talk about it and i don’t know how they don’t! i personally can’t stop thinking about it and i need infected/normal leon carnally.

:) my time to revive plagas leon has come.

(cws: gn! reader, plagas!leon + a lil yandere, post-canon divergence, needles, drugging, nc groping/kissing under the influence, leon has dirty thoughts, biting, blood, reader gets tied up)

Normal Leon is flirty, playful, maybe a little bit saucy at times if the mood is right. Plagas!Leon is a complete and utter menace, and possibly the most perverse thing you've ever encountered.

At the very least, he's not a complete puppet for Saddler's machinations. He has moments of clarity here and there, but they make way for a deep, unconscionable shift in personality when his mind finally accepts that his body is no longer the same. It's difficult to deal with, you can imagine--or you could, if Leon wasn't relentlessly tracking you down and hellbent on not letting you leave the village.

Could he try to talk to you? He could, if you would listen. But every time he faces you with those piercing carmine eyes, you start backing away, and that pretty face twists in fear and disgust at what he's become. Every time you shoot at him, you try to reconcile it as putting down the monster in him and not putting down Leon. But your sweet, gentle conscience can't accept that there's no difference anymore. This is all him, good, bad, and ugly.

Oh, but you're still so cute. You're so mad at him for the way he is, you throw things at him and grab Ashley's wrist to hurry her away when he comes walking up. He was angry when you managed to slip out of his grasp despite feeling that urge to kill you rising, but when Saddler was finally taken out, Leon felt his free will return and realized he had the chance to make his own fate.

And that's why he's waited. He waited day, after day, after day for you, having had to watch you leave with Ashley and Luis in tow and replaying that scene in his mind a thousand times over. The island is gone now, but the rest of the area needs tending to. He spends his lonely days ridding the castle of pests, disposing of bodies, clearing the village away and getting rid of any remnants of Los Iluminados. They don't belong here anymore because they couldn't leave anyways, and since he can't either, he has to cull the ones who might get in the way of your arrival.

Because he knows you. He knows you're certain of his abilities, but even if there was a shadow of doubt about his survival, you won't be sleeping well wondering whether Leon is still alive. If he can be saved, or if he just needs to be put down properly. He doesn't much care where your reasoning lies, so long as you do what he's sure you will and return to the village to find closure.

It barely takes any time at all--in less than a month, you're standing at the edge of the village by a newly-repaired bridge, a local police car parked anxiously by the entrance for fear of what lies ahead. You've got your gun, a map scribbled out from memory, and his jacket over your shoulders. Adorable. You missed him.

There's really nothing to fear, but he won't let you get much further than that village. There are a few Ganados stationed there as plants to relay information to him, but aside from feeding your fury as you take them out they really don't serve much purpose. Leon can feel you here, your feet hitting the ground as you run and the breath burning your lungs as you hurry away from the mob, booking it straight for the castle gate.

How sweet of you to visit him at home. He can't help but stalk you for a bit, watching you wander about the immense palace and search for clues, flip through his notes and break down into tears when you realize he's still alive. You have so much hope, and it's all stored in that little bottle of pills and a needle filled with sedative.

It all falls away when you neglect to notice the latter missing from your belt, only to thrash and scratch wildly at his arm when he comes up from behind to restrain you. A little pinch in the neck, a choked up sigh, and you collapse so limply in his arms like a doll.

Oh, he missed you. It's so much easier to kiss you when you're unconscious, you don't run away or shove him or shout at him that he's a monster. He wants to kiss you in other places, but...not now. He can be gentle and intimate with you like that later. You barely even flinch, you don't even kick at him when he gropes your thigh and brings his mouth to it to bite down. You taste so sweet, he just wanted a bit of your blood to satisfy the craving--he won't make it a habit, that is unless it ends up turning you on when he does it in bed like he's planning to.

And he is planning. You have a future together but it doesn't include anyone else--he's been given an escape from that depressing life he never wanted, but he's not finding a new one without you, the only good thing he's got in this world. Even if he's got to tie you up so you don't attack him the moment you wake from your stupor.

"Let me go! I'll kill you!"

You don't mean that, sweet thing. You're just tired, and scared, and you missed him. That's why you came back--not a force on earth could've made him revisit the site of Raccoon City after what happened there, but you came all the way back and threw yourself into danger for him, even knowing all that you know. The rest of this ugly world isn't worthy of you.

"I'll fucking shoot your brains out for taking him away from me!"

So feisty and cute. Is he really the one that's obsessed? Because watching you cry in desperation and struggle against your bindings is pretty telling, especially since you stop the moment his cool hand touches your chin. You know what he is, and yet you still look up at him like he's the same he always was.

"L-Leon, if you're still in there, I can get you out. There's a facility in Arklay that agreed to help--you can come home!"

It's a shame you're so hopeful. You even grace him with a relieved smile when he backs off, his brow softened at the sight of you practically begging for him. But it's in that darling, naïve way that shows you have no idea you're already being dragged down with him. And you'll only see that once his hand hovers over your lap, and he gently peels back the jagged fabric you thought might've ripped on your way over a fence, or maybe in one of the many struggles against the villagers for your life.

But you understand, he thinks you do, when you finally follow his eyes and peer down at the exposed skin. The bite mark still glistens with blood and saliva from where he sucked hungrily at the wound, but webbing out beneath your skin around the site are thin, black trails that move along your flesh like veins. And they grow as the seconds pass, spreading out deeper within your body as the infection begins its process.

You look up at him so frightened, and yet so angry, that he can't help but kiss you then. You don't have unbound arms to beat at his chest, or breath in your lungs to scream or cry at him for what he's done to you. His tongue swallows all those muffled curses up, sliding wetly between your lips to taste that effervescent warmth he knows you won't lose in your transformation. You're simply too radiant to become as cold as he is, although he's sure it'll add an exciting thrill to the sensations you'll share when you let those locked desires of yours flood out of you. Who knows, you might get so enthusiastic about your newfound power that you don't let him leave the bedroom for days--Leon would certainly welcome that after all this wretched time apart.

"Just get some rest, sweetheart." He whispers barely a hair's length from your mouth, tongue flicking out to trace your bottom lip and indulge in a delightful shiver up your body. "Let Las Plagas give you strength, and I'll show you how to handle the power. And...welcome home, darling."

[flockrest]

[Image ID: An edited version of the 'You're crying from Home Alone?' meme, with captions of the two panels as follows.

Panel 1: "You're crying from bird people music?"

Panel 2: "The musical and hence narrative importance of community and heart, and the presence of a whole village at your back through their lovingly placed leitmotif at a crucial moment, as well as how every revisited note from previous games accentuates ideas and themes to the point of enhancing gameplay if you listen carefully, and TULIN'S FUCKING THEME BEING SO UNMARRED FROM MINOR-KEY INTERJECTIONS MAKING HIS MELODY THE ACTUAL CULMINATION OF RITO HOPE — WITHOUT THE STRIFE THAT HAS COME UPON THEM IN EACH GAME THAT FEATURES THEM — AND THE CLEAR MUSICAL CONNECTION BETWEEN REVALI AND TULIN AND RITO VILLAGE AS A WHOLE got to me."

"Alright."

/End ID.]

NEW FAREEHA VIDEO ESSAY ON MUSIC RELATED TO THE RITO JUST DROPPED AND I AM EATING SO DAMN WELL

[kthecutest]

hello uhm I recently just followed your account because I am very interested in the way you write smut stuff or au's in general and hope your gonna like my idea <3

can you please do legal line like including Jo and yuma considering they are I think 19? and whether they are sub or dom <3

if you are not comfortable with writing it it's totally fine<3

and uhm I already asked so much questions but can I be 🤍anon? but if it's not alright its fine<3

-anon

Of course! you can be 🤍anon! I'm sorry I replied so late, I wanted to finish your request by the time I reply ໒꒰ྀི ╥﹏╥ ꒱ྀིა I'm so glad you love my way of writing! and I hope you'll enjoy this post and my upcoming future posts as well!

&Team legal line : Dom&Sub Dynamic˚•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙˚＊

•✩──────✧✩✦✩✧──────✩•

Pairing : &Team legal line x f!reader Genre : NSFW (づ ᴗ _ᴗ)づ 🥕 A/N ೃ⁀➷ MINORS DNI

K – Hard Dom

Literally I cannot see K as anything other than a hard dom. No matter how cutesy he acts normally, in bed he’s a beast no doubt. He’s the kind of dom who would set out a whole reward and punishment system from the very beginning. But really it didn’t matter because for you both reward and punishment represents the same thing – pleasure. You don’t even have to request him for any experiments you wanna try out, because he is the most experimental bitch okay. He’s flexible as fuck too so he’ll fuck you in every possible position and make you cum and squirt in each of them. And it’s not just the positions that he’ll be experimenting on, expect to be trying out all sorts of toys in his sight all night until you’re all spent and passed out in the morning. He’ll also edge you as punishment, pulling out his fingers every time you felt your orgasm approaching leaving you whining and sobbing. As reward, he’ll overstimulate you, swirling his tongue skillfully around your clit while pounding three of his digits into your dripping pussy till you feel all numb and dumbified. Dirty talk 100% too, harsher words if its angry sex of course. Prepare for him to degrade you, mock you and tease you in every possible vocabulary ever.

“You wouldn’t want euijoo to see how much of a slut you are right~?”

Fuma – Soft Dom

His body maybe built as fuck but his heart has such a sweet spot for you. He’s more of a lovey dovey person rather than a degrader. But that doesn’t stop him from destroying you with his huge girthy cock though. He’ll pour out praises and whines while pounding into you like there’s no tomorrow. Bro is a softy at heart but he’s definitely not soft down there. Would repeatedly whine your name out loud when he started chasing his own orgasm. 100% into breeding you so bad, just watching your pussy getting filled to the brim with his seed to the point your stomach started swelling up at one point. He’d lose his mind from just that sight. Definitely a cum eater. He would pull out after filling you up, before kneeling on his knees, head between your legs and started lapping up the mixture of your and his cum that spills out your stretched pussy.

“You look so cute… falling apart on my tongue baby..~”

Nicholas – Wild Switch

Feel like everyone in the legal line has their own chosen sides like either dom or sub accurately but this dude, this bitch got no sides, because he be taking every role. All depends on your request. If you say you wanted to take the lead, he’ll definitely lay himself beneath for you to use him however you want. But he’ll still definitely be bratty about it though, would piss you off, mocking you, saying how what you’re doing to him is so ineffective and weak, just so you would grow wilder. But if you put him in charge though… bro turns into K honestly. You cannot stop this man. He is like K number 2, he will have you moaning and gushing all over his cock until you’re on the verge of passing out. Not to mention, it’s very easy to make Nicho jealous, you can easily tell if your little mischievous plan works or not from the look on his face. He’ll drag you away to the nearest isolated area and break your mind with his cock.

“Fuck.. had your fun pissing me off huh~?”

Ej – Soft Sub

Whiny soft sub. That’s what Ej is. It’s just the easiest thing ever to make Ej blush. Just a small dirty little tease and he’s already up and ready, his face flushed. A subby pervert so any slight wording or action, could get his cock twitching to life. Once that happens, you’d best believe you’ve got a whole lot of responsibility on your hands now. Because that boy more specifically his girthy cock has infinite stamina, it ain’t gonna go down in just a few strokes hell no. Vanilla boy though but still could be rough if he’s feeling way too much pleasure. Once his cock is in your mouth, you bobbing your head licking and choking on it, in just a few seconds he’ll find his hands in your hair, pushing your head down in a swift. As you felt his tip goes deeper down your throat, you gagged around it rolling your eyes back. That sight alone could get Mr. Vanilla cumming in a whip, whining out little sorries as he shot his seed into your mouth.

“Aaah~ s-sorry love~ I’m sorry~ I can’t h-hold back..anymore..!”

Yuma – Soft Dom

This boy. This cute ass little kitty, he’s not so much of a kitty when he fucks though. Yuma’s the type of baby boy who would come up to you from behind while you’re cooking or washing the dishes, starts nibbling on your neck sweetly signaling you that he’s horny while rubbing his bulge against your back. There’s no way you could say no when you felt arousal starts pooling in your underwear from his mere actions. Yuma is the type of boyfriend who loves to fuck you with any type of outfits on. Bonus points if they’re intentionally sexy of course, but he still finds you sexy in anything. He’ll rip your skirt in an instant but when you try to get out of your apron, he’ll stop you, telling you that he’d prefer you with only an apron on. You agreed to his little suggestion, taking your top off as well staying only in your apron. It only took a second until he’s pounding into you in a heated state.

“Noona~ you look so good.. exposed for me like this~”

Jo – Average Dom

Shy Jo is definitely a dom but he neither leans on the hard side nor the soft side. He’s just in the middle level kind of dude. But that doesn’t mean he can’t go rough with you. This cute baby-faced cutie could definitely destroy your petite body into oblivion. 100% size kink. The height difference between you and him alone proves it too much. With your petite body, this boy wouldn’t show it on his face but he was secretly getting more and more turned on from how the huge bulge on your stomach was visible every time he pounds into you. But his excitement was definitely obvious from his twitching cock in you. You’d gasp suddenly when you could even feel him getting a bit bigger inside you. And it’s not just in fucking, he also loved and I mean LOVED it when your small mouth was filled with his cock. Your cheeks puffing up, tears welling up in your eyes, as you struggled to breathe, not being able to take it whole. He wouldn’t be too harsh but he would sometimes tug on your head and push your head, making you take more than you can, as he secretly gets turned on seeing the tiny droplets of tears hanging on the edge of your eyes fell down your cheeks uncontrollably.

“..love open wider now.. cmon you can take it..~ just a bit more~”

[fernsnailz]

where did you get the eva 01 mug mentioned in your "building eva unit 01 figure, big fan of worlds most normal robot" post from april /nf

asking for a friend

OH IM SO GLAD YOU ASKED because i get to gush about one of my favorite items ever lol

so the mug is actually a handmade ceramic mug created by animeceramix (on instagram)! i tabled across from them at a convention earlier this year and picked it up on the last day of the con. it fucking rocks, every time i drink from it its like im giving unit 01 a little smooch on the forehead

apparently this mug had been to a few cons and hadn't sold, so when i heard that i was like "oh yeah because it was destined to be mine" LMFAO

the other side also has shinji on it. he's going through it

[fuumiku]

They’re really interesting foils in many ways. I’ve always thought that Marcille & Mithrun have underrated dynamic potential. Give me the cringefail dungeon lords. Give me the elves with ears-centric metaphorical self-image issues. Give me the academic elites whose deepest strongest desires will always remain unreachable and the only option is to turn to the corrupt forbidden fruit of a demon pact. I am so so normal about Mithrun and Marcille

I wonder if the resemblance between captain Mithrun and general Hagreus aka Marcille’s fave in Dalclan is intentional… They definitely look very alike. It could represent idealization vs reality? Something something the romanticization of elves and their societal drama in their fiction vs a very real and imperfect product of their military system. The canaries certainly aren’t glamorous next to whatever Hagreus is the general of. I feel like she never had the opportunity to notice the resemblance herself bc within seconds of meeting him he was wrestling her on the ground but. If she had… She would so think he should have been his actor in the tallman stage play of Daltian Clan in that new extra comic hehe. I love the little details like Hagreus’ lips being drawn with extra details because they’re full and pretty while Mithrun’s lips are drawn with extra details because they’re chapped lmao.

This art is all silly and surface level but in my head mithrille is like so dramatic and I make up daltian clan level big plots with them gbdgd. I made a spotify playlist for mithrun if y’all interested, rn it’s mostly centered around cravings that consume and losing yourself and illusions inspired from his time as dungeon lord but it’s branching out. Varied vibes, levels of intensity and degrees of confusion and await you ✨ I would emotionally rant about Chainsaw Man ost lyrics and how they tie in with Mithrun and the winged lion’s relationship but this post is already a monster

I want more of these two please please please pleaseee just one or two interactions in the new canon content coming up… All they ever did was debate philosophy on desires and human self-fulfillment and try to murder each other, please… I never get to gush about them and I can’t shut up so if you want more thoughts I talk about them more below

To get a girl to peacefully accept arrest follow these simple steps: in private, ominously stand above her and forcefully interrogate her, while in public, tell her you’ve met before (untrue and also not a pickup line) and interrogate her with a thin veneer of decorum. If all else fails, threaten and follow through on said threat. My guy needs more than just physical therapy I’m afraid

Sorry if most of these were Marcille-centric with Mithrun standing there looking cool, if I were doing these more from Mithrun’s pov things would be like "She’s a bit much but I guess I don’t mind hanging around her." or "Oh you’re a half-elf? -insert elven supremacist rethoric-" or "I have to keep her from becoming demon stew." immediately followed by "Did someone say demon? Kill kill kill kill kill" since these are set prior to like really knowing another. Then things would be more like "huh she has bad tastes in novels but her magic research is pretty interesting" and "I’m lonely and don’t understand myself— Oh she loves talking about feelings? Oh shi-" That last one is an aspect of why I like Marcille and Mithrun’s potential dynamic lol. She’s very… Emotionally intelligent alongside being impulsive. You think you have no feelings because the world has beaten them out of you? Think again!! Marcille be upon ye! -In a therapy sort of way but mostly in a connecting with people and your own self through interpersonal relationships and talking kinda way. I just think a lively, upbeat, annoying friend way too interested in your personal life would do him good, the canaries are nice but like if Marcille went to prison and was a sort of extra new bunkmate I think that’d be interesting and fun to read is what I’m saying

Unlike Kabru she wants all the useless messy filler of his backstory, eating chips while listening. Like two chibi sets side by side, "me and my fellow canaries, name name and name-" "Hold on that’s too much info we have to compact this" vs "Then we were to sleep on the third floor of the dungeon, which had the look of a mausoleum, and name and name got into a fight over the campfire placement." while Marcille is like uh-huh what next what next while kicking her feet. She thinks of pre-dungeon pompous Mithrun and is like omg you went through a character arc and became better as a person- and then he opens his mouth and she’s like nevermind let’s keep working on that. She would also go "ew ur hair is greasy" and give him a full hair care treatment. What I’m saying is I need them to be forced to spend time in a dungeon together and become besties through a life or death roadtrip

Marcille is insecure about her ears, long, like an elf’s pride should be, but rounder, inelegant. Seeing Mithrun though, the epitome of beauty, with his half-cut ears make it a sillier thought. Not sure if Mithrun is the best person to reconnect with ur elven culture with but it sure is an option Marcille would so appreciate being around someone both cool headed and kind, I genuinely think they’d get along, like not that Senshi isn’t that too most of the time but I think Mithrun would be in a way that’s more refreshing to her. I’d be so curious about them discussing Dalclan, I doubt he’d have read it but she could make him read it, maybe post-canon with the excuse that they’re trying to find him a new hobby hah. He’d tear into the writing and everything but it’d be a fun time, I like to think that it’d make him a bit less prejudiced. Marcille @ Mithrun "👉👈 Soo maybe you don’t know these books they’re pretty recent having come out 50 years ago but…"

I’ve been in a Mithrun phase I want to make and read Mithrun-centric fics and angst so baaad. I razz him a lot here but he’s literally a traumatized military man that became obsessed with revenge due to bad coping and neglects himself in the process idk not much for him going on and some of it is because he has to work on himself, but hey no one’s perfect it all comes from a place of love and relating though I prommy. He’s the one ungodly angsty squeaky toy blorbo with brain damage rep I have don’t take him from me