#or drawn anything at all lmaooo

[galaghiel]

william with his son vs william with his best friend

[ext-raordinarymachine]

ig: hb______k

[acoldsovereign]

{{ I got distracted when I realized I could quickly and sloppily draw all of the inside jokes/memes between me and @hopefromadoomedtimeline. This is one of them---

[sundial-bee-scribbles]

I think Flower's stolen car is option 2 nfsvhbn Ollie and Moke are shoved in the back, Piko, Len, and Fuka are in the middle seats in that order; Ollie and Moke are the smallest and third smallest respectively (Piko can't be in the trunk due to being physically fragile y'know-) Fuka's weak side is facing the door so it'd be harder for him to get out, Len's chaos is sandwiched between two people, and Piko is in the only other spot -🌟

hell road trip /j

“can you pass the aux cord?”

“no. i’m not letting you play trash after last time.”

“PLEASEE. i can’t handle hearing a minute more of moke and oliver fighting in the trunk about which is the best new-world passerine, whatever that means. piko let me plug in your usb cord to the car? 🥺”

“n...no.”

“zzzzzzzzzzz”

“where’s the nearest gas station i want snacks :/”

[multi-kpop-fanfics]

Vodka Slime

pairing: alien!Seungcheol x fem!reader

genre: smut, mild comedy. minors dni.

warnings: monsterfucking, use of tentacles, dom!seungcheol, bratty reader, pussy slapping, bondage, implied size kink (reader is smaller than seungcheol), tummy bulge, squirting, masturbating, unprotected sex but reader is on the pill (pls stay safe), dirty talk, recording during sex (consensual but DON'T DO IT IRL), reader runs a nsfw twitter acc, alcohol consumption

word count: 2.7k

summary: picking up a hot guy from a bar to spend the night with was in your bucket list. him being an alien wasn't. not that you really complain.

Author's note: Spooky season is here and what better way to participate than a spooky smutty theme :) this was a request from Y anon!

p.s.: main inspiration for this fic was drawn by @meltwonu's Starlighter fic, it is a MUST read (like the rest of monster mash lmaooo)

taglist: @duhnova @smileysuh @gyuwoncheol (kindly suffer <3)

©multi-kpop-fanfics, 2023. No reposting allowed. No translations allowed without permission.

You kinda wish you had stayed at home.

You thought it would be a good idea to dress up and go to a bar on your own to enjoy a cocktail, hoping for a stroke of luck - Alas, things don’t always go your way.

If you had stayed home, you would be in comfy clothes or maybe no clothes at all, thinking of which toy you want to fuck yourself with. 

You let out a huff and you take your cocktail in your hand, opting for a ‘random walk’ around the bar (you just want to spot a single guy who wouldn’t mind to get laid tonight), but as soon as you turn around, you collide with a very firm body and your cocktail ends up splashing all over your top.

“Fuck!” You gasp when the ice cold beverage hits your skin, desperately looking for napkins to clean up the newly made mess.

“Shit, I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to do that!” He apologizes profusely as he asks for napkins from the bartender. “Here, these should help somehow.” He passes you the napkins and you accept them with a grumble, trying your best to clean up yourself.

“Is there anything I can do to make it up to you, miss?”

“You can only-” you almost snap at him but your words die down in your throat when you raise your head and take a good look at the unknown man.

And all you see is the stroke of luck you were wishing for all night long.

Semi-pulled back white hair, slightly messed up from the wind outside, a tight fitted shirt accentuating his toned pecs and a jawline sharp enough to cut through your clothes.

“Well…” You put down the used napkins, “I wouldn’t mind a refill of that cocktail I was drinking.”

The unknown man flashes a rather adorable gummy smile and effortlessly takes a couple of bills out of his wallet.

“That, I can definitely do.”

"So, a college student. That's pretty cool."

You almost snort in your drink. "Oh yeah, it's so cool to stress over random classes because the professor happens to be a dickhead." 

"Hey, don't downplay your achievements. It's not like everyone has the brains to attend college, you know." The man plays with the rim of his glass.

"It's actually funny how hard you're trying to get my attention, while you don't even know my name." You down your cocktail.

"And here I was wondering whether you'd bring it up or not." He chuckles. 

"Well? Are you satisfied now, mister I don't know-what-your-name-is?"

"Seungcheol. Choi Seungcheol."

"What?"

"That's my name, doll."

"Oh." You gulp down. "That's a very nice name you have there."

“So I’ve been told before.”

“By other girls, I suppose?”

“I’m not obligated to share this information, doll.”

“Suit yourself then.” You shrug and open your purse, taking out a small folded mirror to check your makeup.

“I’m impressed.” Seungcheol licks the corner of his mouth, “It’s the first time someone isn’t giving their attention to me.”

“You either have a bloated ego or you’re a desperate attention whore. Or both, I guess.” You sigh.

“And you have a pretty foul mouth for such a pretty face.”

“Cliché.”

“Did it work?”

“I’m not obligated to share this information, mister Choi.” You mimic his attitude.

“Are you even willing to share something with me, other than a drink?” He huffs.

“To be completely honest, I was hoping to come here and snatch a cutie back home to have fun with, but things are looking kinda grim.”

Seungcheol flashes a wide smirk. “What a wonderful coincidence, for our goals to be aligned tonight.”

“You’re here to hit it off with someone too?”

“Yeah. And to be fair, you’re looking way too hot and way too lonely to not get laid tonight.”

“Are you suggesting I should fuck you, Seungcheol?”

“I was planning on using more subtle words but I suppose this is also a way to approach things.”

You take a few seconds to yourself, pondering about Seungcheol’s proposal.

Cons - he’s a complete stranger and could be a murderer.

Pros - he’s fucking hot and you could get new content for your account.

“I have one question.”

“Fire away, doll.”

“You’re not some kind of crazy ass murderer, right?”

Seungcheol snorts. “Murderer? Nope."

He brings himself closer to you. "But the crazy ass depends on the context."

"I think we both know the context." You lick your lips.

"Then I hope you're into crazy stuff, doll."

Boy, he's in for a treat.

"That's a nice setup you have here."

"Thanks." You smile and take off your shoes.

"Are you a streamer?" 

"Hmm, not really."

"There's no shame in saying you're a camgirl." Seungcheol chuckles.

"I never said that and I definitely didn't try to hide it." You retort.

"Judging from the box of dildos being out in the open on your desk, I would agree to the latter."

"Do they make you feel uncomfortable, Seungcheol?"

"Not at all." He walks towards the desk and picks up a neon colored, tentacle shaped dildo. "Is this what you play with?"

You sit down on the bed and cross your legs sensually. "Got a problem with that?"

"Not really." Seungcheol drops the toy in the box. "It's a shame to play with fake stuff when you can have access to the real stuff."

You snort. "What, you're into that fake tentacles porn?" 

He flashes a smirk and removes his jacket and t-shirt, you let out a whistle at the sight of his naked torso. 

The excitement you had stored in your body evaporates within milliseconds when you see extra large sized tentacles coming out of Seungcheol's back, looming over him.

"Okay whoa, that is NOT what I was expecting!" 

"I know it's shocking, but I have zero intention to hurt you-"

You crawl away from him. "Your little friends don't seem to share the sentiment!" 

"I am the one who controls them, I can pull them back if you want me to."

"I- I just-"

"Look, I can just put my clothes back on and disappear from your apartment, like I never even existed in the first place."

"W-Wait! I, um-"

"Take your time, Y/N."

"Can you try not to put these things near my mouth please?"

"Since you asked so nicely, I have no choice but to comply."

Seungcheol crawls on the bed and cages you between his body and the mattress, peppering kisses across your jawline to make you feel more comfortable.

"Do you mind if I kiss you? I promise my lips are nothing like my tentacles."

"Oh my God, just shut up and kiss me!" You grab his face with your hands and smash your lips on his, slipping your tongue in his mouth, but it doesn't last for long, as he pulls away and pins your hands above your head.

"What got into you all of a sudden, doll?"

"Maybe I thought things over again and decided that fucking a hot guy with tentacles isn't a terrible idea." 

"I thought you weren't into that thing?"

"Half of my porn content is with tentacle dildos, please get real."

Seungcheol scoffs. "You little brat."

He lifts himself off you and with a tilt of his head, his tentacles wrap around your torso and legs, restricting you midair.

"You fucker! This is foul play!" You yelp.

He leans back on the headrest of the bed, looking at you with hungry eyes. "Everything is fair in war, love and sex, doll. I’m just spicing up things a little." 

Two more of his tentacles come up to your body, one ripping your top in half and the other flipping your skirt to reveal your bare pussy.

“Fuck you, I liked that top!”

“It was already ruined, sweetheart, don’t think too much of it. No underwear though? That's hot."

"It's called easy access, himbo."

Seungcheol clicks his tongue in annoyance and whips one of his tentacles over your pussy, making you whine.

"You're being a lil' smartass and it could get you in trouble, Y/N."

"Do your worst, Kraken."

The tentacle glides between your lips with the tip repeatedly nudging your clit when it suddenly whips your pussy again and you close your legs involuntarily.

"Ah ah ah, we're not having any of that." 

The tentacles tighten around your legs and keep them wide open, while the third one keeps rubbing your pussy slowly enough for the suckers to tease your sensitive parts.

"Ah! Fuck!" You moan when the slimy object slaps your cunt over and over again, your juices starting to drip on your asscheeks and all over the sheets.

"Drenched already? I haven't even fucked you yet, doll." Seungcheol chuckles as he strokes his cock, his pants discarded a long time ago.

"It's all f-fun and games when you're the o-one sitting on the bed!" You whine in defeat.

Your lips fall open when after a particular harsh slap, the tentacle effortlessly pushes into your entrance, turning around and rubbing your walls in an excruciatingly slow manner.

"Oh…my God…Fuck, that feels so fucking good."

Seungcheol raises his eyebrow. "You feel a tad bit loose, sweetheart." 

"And w-what about it?"

You nearly scream when another, thicker tentacle enters your pussy and thrusts harder than the other one. You feel your walls being stretched out, the foreign bodies in your hole proving to be bigger than the toys you use.

“Now it feels just right.” Seungcheol moans, as if it was his dick fucking you stupid. “Can’t wait to have you all wrapped around my cock, doll.”

“F-Fu- Cheol, I’m gonna cum!” You gasp when the tentacles pick up the pace and ram your cunt without mercy.

“Come on, doll, show me what this pussy is capable of.” Seungcheol grunts as he fists his cock harder to bring himself closer to his climax.

A sharp shriek erupts from your throat - you squirt all over your thighs and the slimy appendices, juices dripping down on the sheets and Seungcheol’s legs. His cock explodes all over his torso, streaks of thick white cum splashing on his skin.

The tentacles around your body relax just enough to let you plop down on the mattress, leaving your skin sticky and covered with a thin, slimy substance. He slowly retracts them altogether and they disappear from your field of view, as if they never existed in the first place.

“I can’t feel my legs.”

Seungcheol crawls on the mattress until he’s hovering above you. “That’s cute. But I’m afraid I’m not done with you yet, doll.”

Your eyes go wide when you notice the sheer size of his cock resting on top of your stomach and you’re pretty sure it’s way bigger than anything else you’ve taken before.

“There’s no fucking way that thing will fit in me!”

“That’s what you said about my tentacles, but you took them like a pro.”

“That’s different!” You protest.

“Different how?”

You purse your lips.

“Different how, Y/N?” Seungcheol slaps his cock between your legs and you whimper.

“It’s….so fucking big, Cheol….”

“Are you scared?”

“A little bit, yeah.”

“We can always take it slow, pretty girl. Are you on the pill?”

You nod your head slowly and hook your fingers around the elastic band of the skirt to take it off, but he stops you.

“The skirt stays on.”

“It could get in the way, though.”

“Pull it just enough to let your pussy show.”

“Wait, I’ve got an idea.” You say and point towards the video camera on the desk. “Can you grab it for me?”

“What do you have in mind, doll?”

“Since it might take some effort to make it fit…” You turn on the camera and hand it over to him, “Might as well show my followers how it’s done, right?”

Seungcheol flashes a dirty smirk before he points the camera to your pussy, his tip nudging your entrance. You wince a little when the bulbous head pushes into your hole, a strangled moan escaping from your mouth when you try to fit in more of his shaft.

“Easy now, I’m not going anywhere, doll.”

He swipes his free hand over his abs to pick up the cum that hasn’t dried yet and smears it all over his length, using it as lube.

“S-Stop teasing me…”

“‘M sorry doll, but I don't wanna rip your pretty pussy apart.”

“Fuck, I can take it, promise!” You arch your back and buck your hips in the air.

Seungcheol flattens his free hand over your stomach and pins you down. “You will take only what I wanna give you, sweetheart. Nothing more, nothing less.”

Your walls clench around his tip and he has the audacity to bring the camera closer to the spot you’re connected to each other, only to push his fat cock all the way to the base.

“Fuuuuuck, it’s huge…” Your eyes roll back and your pussy spasms like crazy, trying your best to accommodate his size.

“Good girl, I knew you’d take it all in.” Seungcheol rasps as he rubs his palm over the newly formed bulge in your tummy, “Such a tiny pussy yet you managed to fit all of it. I think you deserve a treat for this.”

His hand moves to your left hip and he starts thrusting inside you, setting a slow pace at first.

You moan loudly with each thrust he delivers and you slide one of your hands directly over the spot that bulges from his cock.

“Not so snarky now, are you?”

“M-More…”

“More what, doll? Use your big girl words.”

“M-More power, harder, please!” You beg between sobs.

“I was planning on dragging it out a bit more, but fuck, you’re gripping me like a vice and I can’t wait to blow my load in your pussy, doll.”

He pulls the camera a bit further away to get a full view of your and his lower half, ensuring none of your faces are visible in the video. He answers your pleas by fucking you harder and faster than his tentacles did and he can swear his sanity is starting to slip away.

“S-Shit, you’re- Fuck! It’s so good!” You scream and grip the sheets around you, your tits bouncing up and down.

“Mmmh, I’m about to cum, baby- Gonna take it all deep, will you?” Seungcheol moans above you, trying to keep the camera steady.

“Yes, yes yes, fuck me full with your load, daddy!” You cry out and your thighs shake as you cum around his cock, your wet walls rapidly clenching around his huge shaft.

“Fuuuck….” He delivers a few shallow thrusts before he buries himself to the hilt, blowing his thick load inside your pussy until a white ring of cum forms around his base. He doesn’t hesitate to take out his cock with an obscene pop and spurt the remnants of his orgasm over your pussy and your skirt.

“That…was fucking amazing.” Seungcheol taps his cock on your clit, chuckling when you bite your lips to suppress your moans.

“Close…the camera…” You mutter and he presses the button to stop the recording.

He puts the camera down and lays right next to you, ghosting his fingers over your abused cunt. 

“So? Do you think it was a waste of time to bring me back home?”

You grip his wrist and bring his hand in front of your face, licking his digits clean.

“Only an idiot would consider you a waste of time, Cheol.”

“Does that mean you’re down to exchange numbers?”

“Are you not-so-subtly asking for another time?” You rake your pointer finger across his chest.

“Perhaps I am,” he confirms, “Not to mention that one time isn’t anywhere near enough to show you what I can truly do with my tentacles.”

“One question - Do your tentacles spit stuff like in hentai?”

Seungcheol snorts and erupts into a laughing fit, to the point of tears.

You slap his arm. “What’s so funny?! I’m serious!”

“I know! It was still funny,” he wipes his tears away, “But I can’t answer your question yet.”

“And why is that?”

He smirks again.

“That would just spoil the fun for next time, doll.”

[n0phis]

it’s 5am and this is the funniest thing ive ever drawn

absolutely not based in anything wolfy said or the au canon at all, just funny bc someone requested these 3 on insta LMAOOO

[dreadfuldevotee]

Finally found someone who understands loumand amongst the loumand never loved eachother discourse, feel like I'm going crazy armand loved him (not defending his actions) and i believe louis loved him too in paris and i wanna say after too even if that love was tainted, or faded by the time they're in dubai that doesn't mean they never loved eachother.

They're beautiful and complex! I can't say I'm surprised they aren't a popular dynamic but the unwillingness to engage with their story is what upsets me the most. If you take away the love they share then absolutely nothing either of them do in those 77 years together never meant anything in the first place.

Honestly, the biggest crime of Anti-Loumand readings is that they are wildly boring. Like okay, Louis has absolutely no agency whatsoever, or he's staying with Armand for Claudia but he can't even do that right because he refuses to stand up for her where it actually matters, but also stays with Armand even when he tells him to get out of Paris to....spite Lestat??? And Armand is just....what? Blanket evil with no real motive but to keep Louis like a pathetic goldfish in an gallon tank. Why would you want that, when the story being written is much more interesting? Louis who is troubled yet still wanting, drawn to Armand and despite his reservations and self-doubt finding himself loving Armand despite it all. In each-other they both see something they want and believe they can obtain it if they can possess the other. Armand is dazzled continuously by Louis zest for life, even if he often times doesn't understand the forms it takes. I adore how they each have these pivotal moments where they are disarmed by the others vulnerability. Armand hearing Louis advocate for Claudia in the sewers and deciding not to kill him. Louis hearing Armand talk about his past and choosing to stay in Paris, despite the imminent dangers.

Like of course, they are far far far from perfect, and by Dubai they are both such shells of the people they actually are. And why I keep hope alive about Trinity Gate or really any loumand reunion. The two of them getting to meet again when they have both rediscovered themselves, and seeing each other in new lights would be everything to me. But yeah, truly nothing could make me hate them. I could sit here and wax poetic about them forever, frankly. And I absolutely will continue to on this blog lmaooo.

[adoresia]

A few things...

1. Choso

2. Server/Bartender

3. Mutual Pining

I work at a Brewery, and I have this little fantasy of Choso being a server/bartender, and it's driving me nuts. Pls help 🙏🏽

— Poured affections

⋆.˚ Pairing : bartender!Choso x reader Double perspective

⋆.˚ Warnings : slowburn, fluff, mutual pinning

⋆.˚ Synopsis : Synopsis: You are a regular at a local brewery, drawn to the quiet, awkward bartender, Choso. Unbeknownst to you, Choso is equally captivated by you but doubts you’d ever notice him. As you approach him for a drink, mutual pining and subtle tension build between you both, neither realizing the other feels the same. The story explores the quiet, unspoken connection between two people who think they’re out of each other’s reach.

⋆.˚ Sierra here! : TYSM FOR THIS REQUESTTT😚 I see you guys are enjoying bartender/coffee worker Choso and tbh I really cannot blame you guys fr😭 I had to search up what mutual pinning was and ask my friend LMAOOO 😭😭so I hope I got the right portrayal🙏, I hope you enjoy this anon😋!

It was a typical Friday night. The brewery was packed with people, and the noise of laughter, clinking glasses, and music filled the air. Choso stood behind the bar, hands busy mixing drinks, but his eyes? His eyes were drawn to you again. You were here almost every week, always with your friends, laughing and dancing without a care in the world. He tried to keep his focus on his job, but every time you moved, his attention would drift back to you. The way you moved across the floor, how your body swayed to the rhythm of the music—it was impossible to look away. Your dress hugged you in all the right places, and the way the dim lights highlighted your skin only made it worse for him. Every time you laughed, it sent a strange warmth through his chest, like he was hearing something he wasn’t supposed to.

Choso swallowed hard, trying to focus on the bottles in front of him, but even his hands were shaking. What would he even say if you came up to the bar tonight? It wasn’t like he could ever keep it together around you. The last time you had asked for a drink, you leaned forward and flashed you a teasing smile.

“A ginger ale, please, handsome,” you had said, and he’s nearly spilled the bottle all over the bar.

Handsome. You were still thinking about that word days later. “Did she say it casually? Did she even mean it? She probably called all the bartenders that, right?” He shook his head, trying to snap himself out of it. There was no way you meant anything by it. He was… just him. Awkward. Clumsy. Not someone a girl like you would be interested in.

He fumbled with another glass, eyes drifting back to you as you danced with your friends. You looked so confident, so effortlessly beautiful. He, on the other hand, couldn’t even get through a conversation with you without stumbling over his words. You probably didn’t even notice him beyond the drinks he served you. Why would you? He was just a bartender. Someone who watched you from afar, wishing for something that would never happen.

But despite knowing that, he couldn’t help but watch. Every time you laughed, every time your eyes sparkled under the dim lights, his heart did a little flip. And as much as he hated it, part of him hoped you’d come up to the bar again tonight, just to hear you say his name, even if it made him blush like an idiot. Even if it made his heart race in ways he couldn’t control.

And then, like fate was playing a cruel joke on him, you made your way toward the bar. His breath hitched. He quickly turned to busy himself with a stack of clean glasses, pretending he hadn’t been watching you the entire time. Maybe you wouldn’t notice how flustered he was. Maybe you wouldn’t realize how nervous you made him, just by looking in your direction.

But as you got closer, his hands trembled again. What was he even going to say? How was he supposed to act cool when you were this close, when the air between you was charged with something he didn’t understand but couldn’t ignore?

He just had to survive the next few minutes. That was it. Just a drink. Nothing more.

The brewery was alive, filled with the hum of conversations, laughter, and the pulse of music. You danced with your friends, swaying to the beat, but even in the midst of the crowd, your attention was elsewhere. Or, rather, on someone.

Choso.

He was always there, behind the bar, working quietly, head slightly lowered like he wanted to blend into the background. You couldn’t help but notice him every time you came here. His dark, brooding appearance drew you in, but it was his subtle awkwardness that kept you curious.

Even now, as you moved to the music, your gaze flickered over to him. Choso stood there, drying glasses, his eyes darting across the room. Every so often, you caught him watching you. Or at least, it seemed like he was. He never stared for long—just a quick glance before he busied himself again. It made your stomach flutter in a way you couldn’t explain.

You couldn’t help but wonder what went through his mind when he saw you, if he even thought much of it at all. Choso always seemed… distant, in a way. Not rude, just reserved, almost like he didn’t know how to engage with people the way the other bartenders did. And yet, there was something about him that made you want to try and figure him out.

As the night wore on, you found yourself dancing less, your feet tired, and your mind wandering back to him more often. The dress you wore clung to you, and you could feel eyes on you—probably Choso’s, though you couldn’t be sure.

Eventually, you gave in and made your way over to the bar. Your friends were still lost in the music, but you needed a break. Sliding onto one of the barstools, you rested your elbows on the counter, glancing up just as Choso turned around.

For a second, he looked startled. His eyes widened slightly, and you could see the faintest hint of color rising in his cheeks. It was almost funny how easily flustered he seemed to get when you were near.

“Hey, Choso right?” you said, offering him a small smile.

“Oh, uh yeah. Hey,” he replied, his voice soft as usual. His hands were still holding onto the glass he’d been drying, but now he seemed unsure of what to do with it.

You bit your lip, amused by his nervousness. He was so different from other guys—so awkward, but in a way that only made you want to talk to him more. “Can I get a ginger ale?” you asked, leaning forward slightly, your tone light.

You watched as his face turned a deeper shade of red. He nearly fumbled the glass, and you had to look away to stop yourself from laughing. He was just… adorable, in the most unexpected way.

“C-coming right up,” he mumbled, quickly turning to grab the bottle. His hands were shaking just a little, but he managed to pour the drink without spilling. When he set the glass in front of you, your fingers brushed for a brief second, and you saw him freeze, his eyes wide.

“Thanks,” you said, taking the drink from him and giving him another smile. His blush deepened, and he looked away quickly, like he didn’t know how to respond.

You sipped your ginger ale, watching him out of the corner of your eye as he busied himself with the bottles behind the counter. He was quieter than usual tonight, though that wasn’t saying much. Choso never talked much, at least not to you. You wondered if it was just because he didn’t know what to say—or if he didn’t really want to talk to you at all.

You sighed softly, twirling the straw in your drink. You weren’t great at reading people, but you liked to think that maybe Choso was just shy. He seemed like the type—awkward in social situations, not really sure how to handle attention. You could relate to that, in a way. You weren’t the most confident person when it came to this kind of thing either.

But still, you liked talking to him, even if he didn’t say much. There was something comforting about his quiet presence, something that made you want to keep coming back, even if it was just to sit at the bar and exchange a few words.

The night wore on, and your friends drifted away, leaving you alone at the bar. You watched as the crowd began to thin, the music quieting down as the night started to wind to a close. Choso was still working, wiping down the counter and cleaning glasses. He hadn’t spoken to you again since bringing your drink, but you could feel the tension between you, like there was something neither of you knew how to address.

You glanced at him from under your lashes, wondering if he ever thought about you after you left the bar. Did he even remember you from one visit to the next? It was hard to tell with him. He was so hard to read, so… distant. You weren’t sure if you were just a regular customer to him, or if maybe—just maybe—he noticed you in a way that went beyond polite service.

You took another sip of your drink, the cool liquid soothing your dry throat as you leaned forward a little, deciding to test the waters.

“So, do you always work Fridays?” you asked casually, breaking the silence.

Choso blinked, looking up from where he was polishing a glass. He stared at you for a second, like he was surprised you’d spoken to him again, before nodding slowly. “Yeah, most of the time,” he replied, his voice soft.

You nodded, twirling the straw between your fingers. “Must be busy,” you commented, glancing around at the thinning crowd. “You must see a lot of people come through here.”

“Yeah,” he said quietly, but you could tell he wasn’t really sure how to keep the conversation going.

You smiled a little, amused by his awkwardness. It wasn’t like you were expecting a deep conversation, but you couldn’t help but wonder if he was always this quiet, or if it was just you.

“I’ve been coming here a lot lately,” you said, your tone a little softer. “It’s a nice place.”

Choso hesitated for a moment before nodding again, his eyes flicking up to meet yours for just a second. His expression was hard to read, but there was something in the way he looked at you that made your heart skip a beat. You quickly looked down at your drink, your confidence wavering just a bit.

“Yeah, it’s… nice,” he mumbled, his voice barely above a whisper.

You bit your lip, feeling a strange tension in the air. It wasn’t exactly uncomfortable, but it was heavy, like there was something unspoken between you. You couldn’t tell if it was just the awkwardness of the moment, or if maybe, deep down, you both felt the same uncertain pull.

But then again, it could just be your imagination.

You smiled softly at him, trying to give him some reassurance, even if you didn't know what would happen next. "Well, I guess I'll keep coming back then," you teased lightly.

Choso blinked, his cheeks still pink, but this time, he didn't look away. His eyes met yours, and for a moment, it felt like the air between you shifted —like maybe, just maybe, you weren't the only one feeling this way.

Choso blinked, looking a little startled, but this time, he didn’t look away. His eyes met yours, and for a brief moment, it felt like the space between you shrank, like something shifted in the air. But just as quickly as it came, the moment passed, and he went back to drying glasses, leaving you sitting there with your drink, wondering if you’d ever be able to figure him out.

Your heart skipped a beat at that. Maybe he did notice you. Maybe this was something, even if he didn't realize it. But just as quickly as the thought came, doubt crept in. What if he was just being polite? What if he didn't see you the same way you saw him?

Still, you couldn't help but hope. Maybe, just maybe, he was thinking the same thing as you-that there was something between you, even if neither of you had the courage to admit it.

[clownsuu]

Clown, in all honesty I followed you for Robbie and Howdy content, but I GOTTA KNOW ABOUT DR STONE FACE

U CONVERT ME INTO A GILF ENJOYER NOW A REFERENCE SHEET IS MANDATORY. (no pressure tho teehee (⁠��⁠◜⁠‿⁠◝⁠ ⁠)⁠♡)

LMAOOO IM SHOCKED SO MANY OF YA’LL EVEN LIKE HIM UDGDHDHD an old man goober- a real ol fard smhhh

I currently do not have the energy to make a proper reference but for now heres some old drawings I have that work enough!

Cw poorly drawn gun

That’s mostly it LMAO (last three being mob version) but here’s some important details about him so I guess you can call this a mini master post about him-

-He’s an agender aro/ace (goes by he/they but mostly prefers masculine pronouns-)

-he is Frank’s grandfather(?????????????) (it’s a touchy subject he doesn’t wanna get into it and nor does Frank)

-he doesn’t live in welcome home (he’d be more considered a guest character that would randomly show up in a episode for shids n giggles

-he N E V E R smiles nor takes off his glasses (nobody really knows what he looks like under em)

-he doesn’t know who tf Robbie is (or Dusty)

mob version:

-He works outside of the mob as a lone wolf, but does sell his goods to them

-he is NOT part of the mob (so he’s not missing an eye or anything)

-he cares more about frank in this version than the normal one (shocking- but barely noticeable)

-hates Mob Rob with a burning passion (never met Dusty)

[miguelswifey04]

Miguel having a cute photo of reader asleep in like his favorite silk nightgown all snuggled up as his Lock Screen and it’s obviously kinda lewd and he has his phone connected to one of his computers and the picture pops up when his phone turns off and readers contact picture being even more lewd and he rushes to unplug his phone feeling flustered

lmaooo soooo himmmm!!

miguel o’hara x fem! reader

as miguel sits at his desk, focused on his work, his attention is suddenly drawn to his phone as it turns off and his lock screen appears. his eyes widen as he sees the lewd picture of you, peacefully asleep, wearing his favorite silk nightgown. a blush rises to his cheeks, the image causing a stir of desire within him. miguel quickly unplugs his phone from the computer, his heart pounding in his chest as he tries to regain his composure.

“carajo," he mutters under his breath, his fingers trembling slightly. "i need to be more careful with these things." he takes a deep breath, attempting to push away the distraction. miguel’s mind races with thoughts of you, your alluring form captured in that innocent yet enticing image. the memory of your intimate moments together floods his senses, making it difficult for him to concentrate on anything else.

with a mixture of frustration and longing, miguel sets his phone aside, resolving to finish his work later. he can't help but feel flustered, his thoughts consumed by the passionate connection he shares with you. the lewd contact picture only adds fuel to the fire, igniting a hunger within him that must be satiated. taking one last glance at the provocative image, miguel can't resist a crooked smile. he has never been one to shy away from desire, and this moment only intensifies his longing for you. he knows that when he finally has you in his arms again, the throes of passion will consume them both, bringing forth a fervor that cannot be extinguished.

tags 🏷️!! @kairiscorner @meeom @emiemiemiii @obi-mom-kenobi @sabcandoit @astro1bloom

[foreststarflaime]

I did my part today in The Bad Class, it was me in the trenches with one other guy defending stories told in mediums other than books against the world (the entire rest of the class) 🫡 (things I used below the cut)

It saddens me that the academic community is so biased towards anything other than published books. Don’t get me wrong, I’m a writer myself and I adore books, but they’re missing out on so many good stories that hit so much harder in mediums other than words on a page!!! ✨Stories of all kinds are equally precious✨ pass it on

Defending movies: Inception!!! If you’ve not seen it, it deals a lot with dreams and layers of dreaming, and thinking about reality. In it, there’s a gimmick where you have a certain ‘totem’ (item) that you can use to determine if you’re in a dream or awake, and the main character’s is a top—if he’s in a dream, it will never stop spinning, but if it’s reality, the top will eventually be stopped by gravity. (Spoiler alert) At the end of the movie, the mc finally gets home to his kids like he’s been trying to the whole movie, and as he embraces them in the background a little out of focus, you see his top on the table, spinning—and right before you could expect it to start to wobble, the soundtrack peaks (thank you Hans Zimmer you master) and cuts off and the screen goes black, leaving you to your own conclusions. It’s such an effective moment and it really would not be the same in a book!

Defending video games: Crisis Core lmao. I love how it uses game mechanics to characterize Zack in such a unique and creative way!!! The DMW is the main thing that comes to mind here, in particular in the final battle, but over the whole game and how it gets you used to it as well. You get a new thing every time Zack gets a new friend, and that’s the source of your strongest attacks throughout the game, a thing you’re constantly thinking about and relying on—which is such a cool way to characterize Zack, because then you realize your thought process has basically been turned into his! He loves his friends, they’re everything to him, and they’re the source of his strength! Which makes the final battle so so devastating when they’re fading away and you get to see, nay experience, his last thoughts as they’re happening. It’s so devastating in a way I’ve rarely been devastated before, and it would not be the same in words. Also there’s the funny haha that this adhd puppy’s brain runs on gambling because he has to get extremely lucky to be able to focus on anything lmaooo

Defending comic books: Loki Agent of Asgard!!!! My beloved! So this is the comic book run where Loki becomes the god of stories, and everything about how it was done here is just. SO so genius. When I say these comic books were a formative experience for me I mean it. But I’ll focus on the things that were great specifically because of the medium here, otherwise I’d be gushing for hours. Yknow how comic books generally have little narrator text bubbles telling you what you need words to describe? And then maybe have a different one for the thoughts of the character? Well this had that, and the narrator bubbles were styled like little scrolls. When you get towards the end of the run, after Loki has realized his power as the god of stories, you get to a part where he’s facing the gods of the gods, telling them a story—and then the little narrator scrolls have the speech bubble thing drawn off from them, to Loki. It’s been him as the god of stories narrating his own story the entire time, writing his own destiny. Such a powerful moment, blew my mind—you could do something similar in a normal book I guess, but it was just so impactful here that I think it wouldn’t be exactly the same. And also, earlier (I think in the second volume), a different future version of Loki is time travelling using his story god powers to write the past to his own ends (you don’t know his connection to story yet, so this is an example of such good foreshadowing), and to do this he reaches out of the panel and jumps into the margins to travel around the story!!! Mind-blowing stunning 1000/10

The strength of books: I just realized why I like my specific imagery-laden style of writing so much in the middle of class while I was explaining this. So in On Fairy Stories (the book the discussion was about for the day), Tolkien talks about how the invention of the adjective was the most important thing for the invention of fantasy, because it helps you change things—for example you can say things like the red sky or the green sun, and people can imagine that. There’s a linguistic concept called mental models which explores how we think in metaphors to understand more abstract concepts—for example, a lot of people tend to view how electricity works in terms of the flow of water. In fantasy, we can take our words and especially our adjectives and metaphors, and we can craft new mental models that wouldn’t work in the real world, and create our own worlds doing that to great effect. I find myself doing this SO much now that I think about it! And that’s something you can do really really well with words that doesn’t lend itself as well to adaptations in other mediums.

And that’s the thing, really—you can do things to amazing effect if you write them using the strengths of the medium you choose! That’s why adaptations rarely work I think, people just don’t play to the strengths.

[sinful-lanterns]

Hi there! I'm the anon who sent you "Reasons to date (Sinner)" and I'm here with a plot twist: Reader wants to know who this Raven is (they don't know her personality and appearance because they never met) and thus they ask around about her to some students deciding to finally meet her in person.

After chatting a bit with her, Reader is interested in getting to know her, despite all the efforts made by the fan club to get closer to them Raven succeded even without trying, making some member jealous

I recently got her so I'm simping a little for her, also you were the final push for me to try this game after seeing tons of ads and I'm loving it

That being said, may I be 🐾 anon? 🥺 👉👈

LMAOOO RAVEN SOMEHOW MANAGING TO SWEEP READER OFF HER FEET WITHOUT TRYING.

Raven falls under the girlfailure category like Bai Yi and Chelsea imo. BUT Raven actually has game because somehow she managed to catch the attention of Reader without really doing anything. Reader was just naturally drawn to the kooky, cute and crazy journalist who writes loves poems to her in her free time 🥺

Very often will Reader find small love poems written on loose leaf or post it notes in her backpack. Raven always sneaks them in whenever you’re hanging out, and it never fails to make Reader flustered 💕

[wasjustred]

A Lesson in Trust - Larissa Weems x f!Reader

Summary: Larissa comes to your rescue.

Pairing(s): Larissa Weems x femprof!Reader

Warnings: Mention of drugs, alcohol, self-victim blaming

Word Count: ~2.8k

Author’s Note: Another little ditty for you all based on a sentence prompt that can be found here! Totally self-indulgent but I hope y’all enjoy lmaooo ♡ (un-beta-ed!) ╱ AO3

“Hey, I’m sorry––I know it’s really late, but… I didn’t know who else to call.”

You feel like pure shit, phoning your boss at one in the morning on a Friday night, crossing every professional boundary you know one line at a time, shivering against the outside bricks of a nightclub downtown. The lethargy in Larissa’s voice is clear from the moment she picks up (which surprises you in and of itself): Gravelly, low, delayed. Hot if you hadn’t just rudely torn her from a deep sleep. You had fought yourself pretty hard on the topic of dialing her up, but as your limbs got lighter and your head a little hazier, your ego gave in and surrendered to reason.

“Y/N? ‘s everythin’ alright?” She mumbles into the receiver, the distant sound of rustling sheets and the click of a lamp switch carrying in the background. You purse your lips in an attempt to keep the embarrassment and guilt at bay; it’s rallying at the gates and feels a helluva lot like drink-induced nausea.

“I’m sorry, I just, uhm––.. I just think somebody slipped something in my drink, and I’m, uh, I’m on my own, and I was wondering if you could––if you’d be willing to pick me up?” The words are jumbled and slurred in some instances, drawn out ‘s’s, but you’re clear enough that Larissa immediately perks up on the other end. You shiver against a harsh gust of wind and lean harder into the wall as you await - dread - the concern that’s bound to color each of her words. 

Instead, she’s firm and commanding: “Everything’s going to be okay, I promise. Just tell me where you are, okay? And I’ll come and get you right this second.” It takes you a minute between processing her response and checking the front of the club for a name or marker, but you eventually present what information you have and she confirms she’ll be there soon. You could cry, really, not at her willingness to come to your rescue but at the harsh reality that you’re helpless and feel like a child in almost every regard. 

Larissa strongarms you into staying on the phone with her as she drives––says she doesn’t want anything to happen in the time it takes her to get to you, as ‘grim as it sounds’. It’s the least you can do, so you ease yourself down into a crouching position on the side of the building and wrap one arm around your knees, the other fitting the phone snugly to your ear. The music pulses from inside, leaking out into the real world every so often as a group of girls or handsy couple stumble through the door towards the end of their night; you can feel the vibrations on the ground beneath you and shudder at the sensation, already struggling to ward off the dizziness that’s quickly made itself home within you.

“Are you still there?”

“Mhm, ‘m here.” Forming sounds, words, takes all the energy out of you. Your eyelids are fighting a losing battle against the call to sleep, and each sharp intake of breath you take to keep yourself awake and aware marks another minute on the clock. You hate feeling vulnerable. You hate that Larissa’s going to see you like this. You hate that you couldn’t protect yourself, but the feeling of free-falling through the asphalt is winning out over the agitation.

Tomorrow’s problem, then.

“I’m here… Ah, I see you. Just one second, my love.” The line disconnects as you seek out her headlights, no choice but to gloss over the pet name as your thoughts swim, convoluted and fractured. Everything feels weightless. Your phone isn’t your phone. It slips from your hand the same second you recognize Larissa’s hair, down in this late hour and curling past her shoulders. An angel.

“Thank you s’ much,” you rasp out when she reaches you, barely supporting yourself against the brick wall in your crouched position. She kneels and steadies your frame as you begin to slump forward.

“Oh, darling… You’re safe, I’ve got you, okay? Can you walk?” Larissa knows better based on the image in front of her - lolling, unfocused - but asks anyway before hooking one arm beneath your knees and the other around your back. She lifts you with an ease you didn’t expect, but you’re far too out of it to comment, mustering what little strength and wherewithal you have to tuck your head against her shoulder.

“Shit,” she mumbles, stooping down once more and struggling for a moment before she’s upright again with your phone clutched between two fingers. You feel like you’re floating as Larissa walks off towards her car with a steady hold on you. The world is swaying––no, she’s swaying? She’s lowering you into the passenger seat and the car is stationary but it feels like you’re going fifteen miles a minute as she buckles you in, chin balanced on your clavicle.

“There we go.” She slips behind the wheel a moment later and begins the drive back to Nevermore without another word. If you were more yourself, you’d have noticed her occasional, worried glances in your direction, her white-knuckled grip on the steering wheel, the string of obscenities she’s mumbling under her breath, cursing the powers that be. You’d be far more ashamed than you are, slumped in her passenger seat.

The rest of the night passes in a confused blur: One second you’re pulling up to the Academy, the next you’re in the main hall, then Larissa’s quarters, then her bed as she carefully undresses you. She covers you as best as she knows how in an effort to preserve your dignity, painfully aware that you’re not there, not really. Suddenly the lights are out, and she’s pressing a kiss to the top of your head, and then the door’s cracked but she’s gone, and the weight of exhaustion mixed with something else is dragging you deep into the depths of slumber.

You don’t dream during the night. You’re asleep and it’s black and then you’re awake and the sun is bursting through the curtains unabated. When you sit up the faint sense of intoxication floods through your limbs, all the way to the tips of your fingers and toes. You’re sober, you think, but your body disagrees and is quick to make its point: You wobble when your feet hit the ground, and you’re forced to steady yourself against the mattress before you can straighten out to your full height and take stock.

Larissa’s bedroom is a masterclass in opulence, dripping in chiffon and satin, complemented by ornate golden fixtures on the walls and windows, beautifully worn furniture that matches her consistent air of class. You’re reminded in your appreciation that you’re here because last night you–––––––

You hiss against the memory and shove the heels of your palms into your eyes, hoping to rub the images away. You should’ve known better, should’ve been more careful, should’ve gone with someone else or a group and not by yourself like you did. It was stupid. Irresponsible. Shameful. Instead of basking in Larissa’s bedroom a second more, you stalk towards the door and push out into the hall,

only to knock straight against Larissa’s front.

Oh, fuck.

She ‘oof’s airily at the force and clasps your shoulders in her hands to keep you both remaining upright, confusion washed over her features. She’s already made up for the day, hair perfectly coifed and lips a veritable shade of red. The image of you two side-by-side is almost laughable if you weren’t so distraught over the idea of your boss - your kind, lovely, attractive boss - handling you at your most vulnerable: Larissa is the picture of professionalism, and you’re swimming in what you assume is one of her old school t-shirts and a pair of shorts tied tight at the waist, which is barely visible beneath the hem of the shirt, feet bare and hair tangled.

“I was just coming to check on you––how are you feeling?” Her gaze is soft, words softer. She rests a tentative hand on your forearm and you evade her eyes, desperately shrugging off the feeling of incapability that immediately overtakes you.

“I’m–I’m fine. Uhm, thank you, for helping me last night. You shouldn’t have had to do that, I realize how inappropriate that was.” If you could bring yourself to meet Larissa’s gaze, you’d be privy to the swiftness with which her expression morphs from one of caring to one of bewilderment.

“I hardly think answering a call to help from one of my employees is inappropriate, Y/N.” Curiouser than the rest of this - the shame and the discomfort - is how your insides bristle wildly at the idea that Larissa was only acting in her capacity as an employer. Somehow, the idea makes things much, much worse. You expect that some delusional part of you hoped the aggravation you felt at having called her would have subsided in some part if she admitted to coming to your aid as a friend, a–––well, a someone who cares for you as a person and not just as a worker.

“Right. Well, thank you again, Principal Weems. I’m indefinitely beholden to you.” You brush past her harsher than you mean to but don’t dare stop to apologize, making for where you hope her door may be so that you can escape to your own quarters. You just need space to breathe, to get out of her clothes, to reasonably and philosophically beat your psyche down into a pulp for being so reckless––––

“Y/N, stop,” Larissa commands, her voice suddenly full and forceful in the otherwise quiet space. By gods do you want to continue right out the door but your feet disobey you, freezing somewhere between the hall and what looks to be a sitting room. You don’t turn to look at her. Instead, you listen with bated breath as she approaches from behind, taking slow deliberate steps towards you. When she reaches you, evident by the stunted sound of footsteps and that unmistakable feeling of being loomed over, she rests a hand on your shoulder. Gently still, Larissa ushers you to face her. And once you do, she grasps your chin ever so slightly and tilts it up so that you have no choice but to meet her eye.

“I’m glad you called me. I’m glad you trusted that I’d come. And I came because I care about you, do you understand? Not just because you’re one of my professors but because you’re important to me, Larissa––not ‘Principal Weems’.” Her eyes are searching and you’re leaning into her touch despite the humiliation building within you. The humiliation brings tears with it, burning and quick to fall. “Tell me what’s going on in that head of yours, darling.” Her thumbs brush away the stray tears as your face scrunches in hopes of curbing the waterworks.

She’s too kind.

“I should’ve never put myself in that position. It was so––it was such a childish mistake. How the hell am I supposed to teach and protect my students if I can’t even protect myself? It’s embarrassing!” Your volume grows with your frustration but Larissa doesn’t bat an eye, instead guiding you towards one of the loveseats in her sitting room. She sits you down and kneels before you, hands balanced on your knees.

“No, Y/N. You’re wrong,” she insists, ducking her head to meet your gaze. “It is not your fault that there are awful people in the world who go out of their way to corrupt it. Nor does it mean you can’t protect your students; I have the utmost confidence that should the situation call for it, you’d do everything in your power to keep our Nevermore family safe. And I trust you’d succeed.” She pauses to wipe away another escaping tear, squeezing your knee. “There’s no one I’d rather have next to me watching over our students, hm? This does not change that, not in the slightest.”

Her tone is firm but compassionate, slanted by a tinge of anger at how one night has forced you to question your worth. You take a few moments to work through her words, subtly nodding as you piece it all together from start to end. It was out of your hands; you’re okay; your students are safe with you; you’re safe with Larissa. She picks herself up and slides back down next to you on the cushions as you ponder, and readjusts so that the hand closest to you can rub small, soothing circles along your back.

“... thank you. I needed to hear that.” The smile she gives you is a warm one, pleased with the shift in your line of thinking. Her hand moves further until it rests at your shoulder and then she’s turning, turning until she’s wrapped you in a tight hug, burying her face into the crook of your neck as you allow yourself to melt into her.

“I care about you very much, Y/N. It’s important to me that you know that.” For the first time this morning, Larissa’s voice is timid. You press yourself into her skin as far as you can, almost molded like a funny amalgamation of three-dimensional puzzle pieces on her couch, and squeeze.

“I know. I know. I care about you, too.” You bite your tongue before anything else can slip through unfiltered, like the way your heart thrums a million miles a minute when she smiles at you, or how the simplest things about her - her coffee order, how she greets students in the halls, the look she always gets when she watches everybody else enjoy an event she organized - makes you want to wrap her up and never let go. The sentiment stands all the same.

You finally release each other after a a couple minutes of comfortable silence, content to just breathe each other’s air and savor what little time remains in the morning before weekend duty calls. When you do part, Larissa’s eyes are glassy, and a track of bare skin beginning from the corner of her eye to the tip of her chin gives her away.

“Are you alright?” The sudden reversal in your roles makes her chuckle as you look her over, eyes wide.

“Yes, I am. I’m just happy is all.” She stops you in your tracks with that, and you have to remind yourself to manually breathe when she smiles at you, expression so unbearably fond. The urge to kiss her in this moment is overpowering; it takes everything within you not to throw yourself into it when her eyes fall to your lips, something akin to yearning there. You both inch closer - nearly impossible given you’re already wrapped up in each other - and duck your heads together as if in a conspiracy, brushing noses, sighing into the fall as––

“Principal Weems? Are you in there?”

There. The obligatory interruption of your shared contentedness. You have to laugh, and Larissa shoots you a lighthearted stare that tells you to shut it as she turns towards the door, yelling out. 

“Just a moment!” She returns her attention to you, pliant in your hands, and shakes her head. “Whoever’s up there,” her eyes flit up towards the ceiling, gesturing towards the heavens, “has got a bloody dreadful sense of humor, haven’t they?” You giggle and move to fix a strand of hair behind her ear, shrugging.

“What’s a couple more hours of waiting, huh?” An eternity, really.  Larissa rolls her eyes, loosening the hold she has on you begrudgingly.

“I suppose you’re right, although I’m certainly not happy about it.” A snort escapes you as you push yourself up off of the couch, reaching out a hand for her to do the same. When she does follow suit, it’s with a smile that leaves you breathless and hopeful for more, standing over you in a meaningful silence that warms you both to the core. Another knock sounds, this time apparently impatient. “Oh, Christ. Alright, go hide. I’m not finished with you.”

As you scamper off towards her bedroom to evade whoever’s on the other side of the door, Larissa pulls you in for one last hug, however brief. How it escaped you all morning you don’t know, but you’re abruptly thrust into the lingering scent of her perfume, floral and clean, undeniably her. It’s a scent you doubt you’ll escape now that you know it in this context, wrapped in her arms, in her sitting room, a couple walls away from a confession.

When she releases you, you press a kiss to her cheek and quickly dash away, clamping a hand over your mouth when she hisses ‘not fair!’ at your retreating form.

Whoever’s knocking at her door will surely have hell to pay.

[falseficatored-blog]

Catboy Scaramouche

Warning: mature, catboi things.

🎨Cr: ~~pls tell me if you know so I can add it.~~

This was the very first scara fic prompt I made and... Well decided to post it rather than let it rot in my notes lol.

"now go down slowly" he whispered by your ear, his breath intoxicatingly warm. Hands on your waist.

"hn.. nghh... ah..." Your hole had taken in his dick inch by inch as you moved your body lower to take in all of him. It was especially frustrating for you to take in the head slowly inside you, taking your time, shaking legs and ass. It took him a lot of his self-control to not immediately pull you down to his lower body. His cat ears were twitching as your eyes were drawn to them.

"Hm~?" He hummed voice shaking slightly. "I might be being too nice seeing you're able to focus on my ears" his cleanly cut nails dug into your back slightly to divert your attention as he hated when you stared too much at his cat features.

"Doesn't it feel so nice to have me inside?" It made you go crazy that he hadn't yet started thrusting as he usually would have done, sliding him in your cunt.

"Shhhh... -ah don't I feel so big inside you?" shushing your whimpers his right hand stroked the bulge of his dick inside you, going up and down, up and down, not showing any sign of stopping soon.

"My you came even though I haven't moved, did my voice turn you on?" His left hand caressed your hair as he gave you that cheeky smile.

"Or maybe did my lewd words catch you off guard~" He licked your chest purposefully avoiding your nipples to stimulate you. Eyelashes were long and shaded against his beautiful eyes as he looked up at you.

Sucking on your chest he leaves a mark, humming in satisfaction at the small proof that you were in fact under him. "I think I've teased you enough for now, don't you think..." It wasn't a question persay, not that he'd stop at anything you said at this point. He pulls out and thrusts in groaning his hands now intertwined with yours. His tail would sway in between the gaps of your thighs as you shivered at its softness against your skin.

"Faster?... Hmnph.." His thrusts get faster at your provocation. "Ah I really love when you cry like that~" your more than positive reaction encouraged him more as he thrust deeper into you as if not wanting this to end nor to leave. "What do you think about that now huh-" his voice stops as you tighten around him.

"So... Tight... Hah... Do you want me that much?"

"Don't worry I'll cum inside you in a while hm?" You clench even tighter around him as he releases. Your walls couldn't help but achingly feel at its own throbs. "Despite you closing your hole so nicely there's still so much leaking out" he mutters to himself, a finger sliding through your clit to feel your wetness. "What a sopping mess you are" his hoarse voice struck a chord within you as you cried his name.

"More? You're quite the greedy whore" he says with a slight growl in his voice as he took a longer moment this time outside of you before hitting your cervix in one swoop, it seemed the closeness between you two wasn't enough as he turned you around to fuck you from behind. "Feels good? Of course it does bitch who do you think is all over you right now." His incessant thrusting wouldn't stop until he let out another wave of semen into you.

His name on your mouth had you reeling him in as he gave you an animalistic kiss almost as if it wasn't a kiss but a visual representation of what he would do if he could actually eat you up. "Enough? That isn't even everything yet, when has two rounds been all we've done, you're dreaming" he hardened at your pleading somehow even more encouraged by your cries and moans, moving his hands over your chest.

"You're not escaping any time soon" he whispers by your ear.

He's honestly so bbg. Got lazy to get creative w the fonts or italization stuff LMAOOO.

[morballs]

Super obscure rant but the way that season 1 tackles traumatic situations realistically while also being accurate to their own universe is something that I think about alot. Outside of episode 2, alot of these "events" don't feel awfully dramatic or drawn out, they are sudden and happen when you don't expect it; the environments and aesthetics are mundane in a way that would perfectly cradle the seriousness of the event, especially through Clementine's eyes. Though, I think this episode is MEANT to be seen through her eyes, not Lee's. I hope I'm able to convey what I mean lol

Long Road Ahead is genuinely one of the most aesthetically underwhelming episodes in season 1, but the almost pedestrian feeling of the environment is what packs the emotional punch of the deaths you experience in the chapter; because honestly, a traumatic event is not all gusto, there's no flourish to the emotions nor the action. The colours of the episode lean heavily on warm tones, yellows, reds and oranges. In its rawest form these colours symbolize joy, intensity, restless energy and comfort; something that the episode is anything but. As the chapter progresses forward the colours become duller and trite, ultimately until night strikes. In the trailer there's a sort of nostalgic comfort to the scene, even when the argument ensues inside it -- its like you're still waking up and trying to wrap your head around an event through the haziness of your mind. You don't quite understand what everyone's so fussed up about but you can catch key points as it wears off. The warm lighting of the trailer is deceptive, even as its stopped and majority of the cast is outside: it bleeds out into the darkness invitingly. Kind of like an anchor to the situation at hand, you can always go back inside. After Lilly shoots either Carley or Doug depending on your choices, the silence that follows and how slowly everyone's mind begin to wrap around the now rapidly cooling on the forest floor is quite the wake up punch. A mundane, nearly lethargic scene kicking into 100 within seconds. And yet again, if you chose to do so, you climb back into the warm trailer, its like barely anything changed, like you're just continuing your journey home, exhausted with the adrenaline leaving your body, and straight back to square one. The episode carries on after that, though everything feels washed and lackluster, all wrapped up in a confusing package for you to wrap your head around ages after you completed it.

morballs used his one (1) braincell lets call upon a celebration with wine and fruit of plenty LMAOOO

[sefusneezed]

Kat and Lyrane are genuine friends? I thought she just tortures him for fun and he has nowhere to run

LMAOOO somewhat true but it's like a younger sibling older sibling dynamic sorta.

He thinks she's annoying and she does like bothering him bc despite being a big scary space marine she knows he won't do anything lol

But he also thinks she's very obviously a dumb kid with like zero guidance (OR FRIENDS 💀) (cannot trust the old man trio to teach her anything they are even worse she is a product of their tomfoolery) so he kinda just became the older brother figure.

Their dynamic seems like she's just torturing this poor guy and has absolute power over him but that's because he's just WAY TOO patient but he can keep her in line just fine he's the obligatory babysitter.

HONESTLY tho bro's a big scary genetically enhanced supersoldier who's killed thousands of beings across the galaxy and is feared and revered by all of the imperium he is one of the 🌟🌟EMPEROR'S HOLY ANGELS 🌟🌟😤💪if he really wanted to he could just scare her into shutting up forever, possibly even throw her off a building or perhaps beat her into a fine viscous pulp. Lyrane is not trapped on this planet with Kat, Kat's trapped on this planet with HIM 😡 but Lyrane chooses to go the gentle giant trope and wants to be the only singular positive influence she's got (the bar is set so low that he, the guy who got in trouble for mass murdering INNOCENT CIVILLIANS is the "positive influence")

There's a whole story with context with how they met and they DO have genuine moments its just that I haven't drawn it yet 😭 so much hidden lore that exists only in my head