#there’s so many great designs of him already

[stillness-in-green]

Some thoughts on The Discourse about the last BNHA cover

(Note: This Discourse was on Twitter. I don’t know how much of this may have been said here on Tumblr, so consider this either my contribution or just me reporting back on drama from other fronts.)

So, I saw a lot of back and forth over there between people who didn’t like the cover and people who did, and I spent a little while mulling it over. It seemed to me that the people who didn’t like it had a good point, but one they were not articulating particularly well, possibly thanks to the character limit and possibly also because the people talking about it tended to phrase their objections in sarcastic, consciously exaggerated terms because that’s the language months and months of dealing with the truly insufferable Horikoshi Defense Squad on Twitter primed them to use.

So what is the point?  Basically this: In going for the lazy/easy callback in both the cover design and Dai (plate-hair kid)'s role in the final chapter more generally, Horikoshi landed on an "everything comes full circle" ending when what the story desperately needed was an indicator of change.

We didn't need to know that a kid with low self-confidence and nothing to speak of in the quirk department can still become a Pro Hero if he[1] wants to.  We already knew that because it's what the whole story of BNHA was about!  Deku passing the torch/paying it forward is nice if all you care about is Deku's personal arc, but it's sheer reductiveness if you care about literally anything else.  If there was going to be a kid getting Deku's encouragement and help at the end, if that's the ending Hori was absolutely set on, it shouldn't have been the Deku Redux kid; it shouldn't have been the weak kid who has already been metaphorically proven capable of becoming a Hero.

1: And of course it would be a boy.

It should have been the troubled kid, the one from the bad family situation, the one who isn't sure whether he even believes in this Hero thing.  It should have been the kid who, if nothing about Hero Society had changed, would’ve been rejected by the whole corrupt system—in so many words, the Tenko Redux kid.  That's the one who we saw could not become a Hero under the previous system.  That's who we needed to demonstrate the system's improvement.

Instead, all we get is Deku helping himself.  And it fits, I guess, because “himself” is the only sort of person Deku ever wanted to save anyway—remember that in the very first chapter, Deku tells All Might that he wants to be a Hero because he was never “saved” as a kid and so he thinks saving is the coolest thing ever.  Implicitly, then, Deku wanted to be the kind of Hero who could have saved the kid he was, and that tendency to reserve his compassion for people he can recognize himself in—the crying children and the Hero wannabes—is consistent throughout the series.  Dai, then, simply becomes the very last of these examples, the chance for Deku to tell his middle school self that he, too, can be a great Hero.

And that’s quite a choice, isn’t it?  Take a second to consider the implications there. The metaphorical parallel Deku helps is his middle school self, not his childhood self—there’s no evidence that Dai was bullied on the same level young Izuku was, and we sure didn’t see anyone telling him to jump off a roof.  So, who does save those children, then, in this grand, improved version of Hero Society?  Does anyone?

Well, not really. Not that we��re shown. Indeed, the child who was the closest analogue to young Izuku—a weak and seemingly quirkless boy who stuck his neck out for other rejected children, who still stubbornly wanted to be a Hero despite a parent's disapproval—was Tenko, and Deku pointedly did not save him.

To be clear, I don’t mean that just in the sense that Deku failed to save the adult Tenko became, but even in the emotional sense that the series clearly wants me to believe Deku succeeded at, the saving of the boy's heart? I don’t think Deku even managed that.  Sure, he might have protected the echo of that child from a few memories, might have held his hands for a few exchanges of dialogue, but then the boy transformed back into the form of the Villain he'd become and was swallowed down the spiritual maw of the man from whom society failed to save Tenko to begin with! And what was Deku doing as this happened? Absolutely nothing but yelling impotently as he got blown backward and out of the mindscape.

Imagine that Deku had found some way to cheer up Izumi Kouta only for Muscular to kill the kid thirty seconds later.  No one would be saying, “I think Deku still saved him—his heart, anyway,” if Deku got Kouta to smile and admit that Heroes were actually pretty cool only to do nothing but scream helplessly as he watched Muscular pulverize Kouta’s ribcage with one gentle squeeze.[2]

2: Mind you, this comparison is flawed!  Unlike AFO’s vestige, Muscular doesn’t turn up to kill a child as a direct result of Deku’s own actions. Also unlike the events of the final battle, Deku doesn't jump up and personally administer the killing blow to the still-screaming victim, either.

It just leaves me thinking about some of the stuff @codenamesazanka has said about how the narrative treats Shigaraki and Deku helping him: not as something Deku has a duty to do, not something Hero Society on the whole owes Shigaraki (and all the other metaphorical expy/future Shigarakis), but rather a bonus, a nice extra, a demonstration to shine up Deku's Hero cred because he's making efforts no one else would bother with and that no one would reasonably expect him to make. It's not Deku’s job to save the Tenkos or the young Izukus of the world; apparently that just falls to society at large.

So then, what was the point of making Tenko/Tomura such an extreme case of someone who started in a similar place to Deku?  Why make him, also, a weak kid who was told he couldn't be a Hero, if you're not going to have Deku save him in the way no one saved Deku himself?

From where I'm sitting, the answer is, "It seemed like a good idea to Horikoshi at the time, but proved to be poorly thought out."  But if Deku failing to save his own closest childhood analogue was where the story was going the whole time, then Shigaraki should never have been used to parallel Deku to begin with.  It's just a damned waste of Shigaraki as a character, an insult to everything he represented, to use him for ~the parallels~ throughout the entirety of the story except the very beginning and the very end.

Anyway, Pro Heroes are bullshit and the ending should have been them being radically reconceived from the ground up with input from all the people they failed to save.  But again, if you have to still have Heroes-qua-Heroes at the end, and you have to have some stupid thematic echo because you as an author think callbacks are the single most compelling storytelling tool of all time, then everything we got on Dai should have been for Scissors-kun instead, and here I am very much including Dai's scene before the first war. An unsettling scene of a strange child with his mouth sewn shut, stuck in a straitjacket in a dark room should have been the last thing we saw before launching into the day of the raids, an apparent element for the future in the same way that so many future Villains were first shown in the wake of Stain's arrest.

See, Shigaraki’s own destructiveness is what ultimately frees Scissors-kun from the basement, “saving” this rejected, abused child in a way no Hero ever managed or even knew to try, just as Shigaraki brought light and a strange sort of hope to the lives of so many others whom Heroes failed.  However, Shigaraki couldn't carry his ambitions through to the end. He was never able to meet the kid he indirectly saved, never able to offer that appallingly abused victim an avenue for his signature brand of rough justice. Heroes stopped him from doing so. So then, who will help Scissors-kun?

If we’re to believe that the story's protagonist has made a real difference, that Deku and his classmates have changed the world for the better, then we don't need to see them helping a kid who we already know is going to turn out fine because “he” aleady did. We need to see them help the people that previously only Villains would have helped, picking up the torch they struck from Shigaraki’s hands.

So sure, keep the scene with Granny Evil and Scissors-kun if you must, to show that it’s not only Heroes but also the broader Hero Society that’s changed. After that, though, show Deku stepping in.  Show him taking an interest in this kid as a way to keep his promises—to Shigaraki, that the rejection and obliviousness that he sought to destroy have indeed been destroyed and will remain so, and to Spinner, that Deku will remember Shigaraki for the rest of his life. 

When Deku is older and in a position to give advice to a kid who’s floundering and uncertain of what to do with his life because of what people around him say about him, make that character echo the characters the old system failed to save, not the character who the entire story proved would do just fine.

For god's sake, ditch Deku Redux.

Now, I know the obvious rejoinder here: We can’t use Deku’s story to say that BNHA already showed us that Dai would be fine because Dai has a quirk where Deku did not, therefore Deku’s path would not be open to Dai.  To this, I would reply that neither Deku nor Dai specify that Dai wants/is able to be a top Hero, merely that he be the kind of Hero people can admire—which the story has also already proven true!

Ojiro got into UA with nothing but one (1) extra limb.

Manual has a perfectly middling quirk that turned out to be absolutely crucial in two different wars because it was the right quirk at the right time.

Wash’s quirk makes strong bubbles. 

Like, this list is not short.  Manifest Plates might or might not make Dai Hero Billboard material, but one of the major points of the endgame was the sublime and noble value of helping when you can, in the way that you can.  So to reiterate, we didn’t need that to be proven again in the epilogue.

If anything, going the route of retreading the same story makes the epilogue much worse! Not only do we not get to see how this society is helping the people the old society most profoundly failed—victims who fall through the cracks and become Villains—but in seeing yet another a weak kid being mocked for his heroic aspirations, we find that we’ve barely moved a step beyond the exact same place we started.

That’s the message Horikoshi chose to go with, for both the closing chapters of the story and the story’s final volume cover.  Truly, as art that summarizes the story goes, it’s a masterful choice!  And that's the whole problem. The cover of Volume 42 is a perfect illustration of the self-absorbed, cynical, cyclical nature of BNHA's endgame. Little wonder, then, that it's hated by the same people who hated said endgame.

[thezombieprostitute]

The Arrangement - Part 12

Summary: Jake's done a lot of things to keep his sister, and then his niece, safe from his parent's influence and manipulation. If he wants to keep them safe, he has to marry you.

Warnings: Anxiety, Bad parents and siblings, Talking about abuse. Let me know if I missed any!

Part 11 - Part 13

Series Masterlist

It had been just over a week since your wedding. You and Jake have improved your communication. He's also managed to really set himself up in the home theater where he'd spent that first night. Apparently one thing your parents got right was the massive pair of recliners specifically for that room. Jake swears they're more comfortable than most of the beds he's slept on over the years. It makes you feel better about taking the master bedroom for yourself. Clay had visited again bringing a few duffel bags of Jake's things, including his computer. The massive screen for the theater worked really well for his setup.

While you were cooking, Clay had made sure to update Jake on the status of his family. Things were working pretty well, but there were going to be a lot of paper trails to hide so that they couldn't be followed. Or at least, not followed easily. Aisha and Cougar had both caught a couple of people following his family around that were confirmed to be employed by his parents. Hopefully now that Jake had his computer he could get some better intel on the parents' finances and connections.

But you weren't privy to that update. Jake and Clay agreed it was safer to keep you in the dark about the details. Though Jake didn't doubt your sincerity, there were still too many unknowns about you.

You really didn't mind that they got quiet whenever you were near. Your mind was already at maximum anxiety with Travis, your brother, still being in the Intensive Care Unit. Your parents had been acting unusually as the week progressed and Travis didn't get better. According to the police report he'd been seen drinking heavily with friends before trying to drive home. Usually one of his friends would be the designated driver and keep everyone's keys but, somehow, Travis had gotten his keys.

And now your parents seemed to be readjusting their life plans, and yours as well. The one time you were allowed to visit the hospital you'd overheard your parents murmuring about "he can't be seen like this," "he'll be seen as weak," and other similar thoughts. It made you worried you and Jake would be even more under their scrutiny, set to even higher standards. Your breath hitched as you realized they may demand a grandchild to help change the public perception of the family to one of hope or something like that.

You and Jake were getting ready for your first public event as a couple. You're helping Jake pick out the right suit while doing your best to answer his questions about what to expect, what is appropriate conversation, how much both of you needed to talk to others before you could leave. You know you're missing things. Jake does, too. But neither of you can think of the questions to ask so you establish a silent signal for help. Jake squeezes your hand three times and you either step in or whisper some advice in his ear. It's not a great system, but it's all you can do for now.

Jake hates how he looks in all of this but he knows it's not about him or his comfort. At least he doesn't have to wear the torture device you call a dress. The thing looks impossibly tight on you. He's worried about your ability to breathe. And the stiletto heels have you warning him you'll be on his arm all night to help you keep your balance. Jake actually takes comfort in that because he really doesn't want to be left alone at this event. Probably any event, but this first one especially.

As the car pulls up Jake takes a deep breath and you attempt the same.

"We can do this, right?" He says quietly.

"I believe we can," you nod. You gently squeeze his hand in reassurance like you did that first morning with the parents.

He nods, "let's do this."

As soon as he's able Jake is out of the car and opening your door for you. The last time he did so you were scared of each other. Now you make sure to give him a small smile of thanks as he takes your hand. The elevator ride to the party is as quiet as the one you took together your wedding night, but less oppressively so. It isn't until the elevator doors open that you both put on your fake smiles. Both of you taking small comfort in the fact that neither of you is suffering alone.

After the first couple hours Jake is ready to punch someone, anyone, just so he can be forced to leave since he's not allowed out yet. He's incredibly grateful you insisted on eating a little something beforehand. The food here is barely edible and dissolves faster than cotton candy. He hates the wine? Champagne? Whatever the hell it is, he hates the taste of it but, in following your lead, he knows he has to at least sip often enough to warrant a replacement glass every 30 minutes or so. Jake was grateful to have your weight on his arm to help keep him grounded.

Especially when Charles Blackwood, a "friend" of his from high school, showed up. Charles had been nothing but a leech throughout all of high school but Jake was desperate for some kind of friendship.

"Jacob! Where have you been?" Charles holds out his hand and Jake grips it firmly.

"I've been okay, Charles. You?"

"Holy crap, you're married now? Is that why you finally came out of hiding?"

"Sort of," he admits.

He goes to introduce you but Charles stops him. "I know this lovely lady quite well," he admits. You avert your eyes. "We were engaged for some time."

"You were?"

"Didn't she tell you?" Charles smirks. "Would've been married for two years now if her parents hadn't stepped in."

"For once I'm glad they did," you interject. "You're a conman who shouldn't be here."

Charles gives a small laugh, "well look who finally grew up. Too bad you didn't pick up on what was going on before I got you into bed." Your cheeks burn with embarrassment. "How are those dolphin projects going?"

"Sharks," Jake snipes. "Her focus was on sharks."

"Ooo, nerd standing up for nerd. How cute."

"You need to leave us alone," Jake fumes. "She is my wife and I won't let you insult her."

Charles scoffs, "since when can you fight?"

"Since boot camp."

That gives Charles pause. He searches Jake's face for tells that he's lying but finds none.

"Yeah, alright," Charles concedes. "Just don't ruin this party for me. Lots of other potential targets."

As soon as he was out of hearing range you let out a breath. "I'm so sorry," your voice quavers. "I should have...I should have told you."

"Told me what? That your ex-fiance is an asshole? That's not something you need to divulge."

"No...that...that I'm not..."

Jake leans in so that you're the only one who hears him. "You're more than just your virginity status. I'm sorry your first time was with him, he doesn't seem the type to make your pleasure a priority, but I'm not upset that you've had sex before."

You take as deep a breath as you can to steady yourself. "Thank you for that."

"So, can we leave the party yet?"

You check Jake's watch, trying not to be obvious about it. "We've got at least another half hour."

"When we do get out of here, would you be up for going out for some real food?"

You chuckle, "maybe delivery? Or take out? I'm not going to be able to eat much in this dress."

"Fair. And thank you for helping me get through all of this."

"Thank you for listening to my advice," you counter.

"Always," Jake affirms.

Part 11 - Part 13

Series Masterlist

Tagging: @alicedopey; @ashdoctor; @delicatebarness; @ellethespaceunicorn; @embarrasingmf;

@irishhappiness; @jaqui-has-a-conspiracy-theory; @icefrozendeadlyqueen; @lokislady82;

@ronearoundblindly; @thiquefunlover63

[lellarps]

As Axis had suspected, the man would undoubtedly have something up his sleeve during their meeting. It was inevitable. But that was fine. Axis had his own plans in motion. There was a reason he’d chosen that location— he hadn't simply chosen it at random.

Her words, however, pulled his mind away from strategies and battles, if only for a moment.

He frowned, concern flickering across his face, before realizing there was no real need for it. Then, he stilled entirely, his breath catching as he felt the small, powerful kick beneath his palm. His child—so tiny, yet already so strong...

"The Fae have dealt with your family for centuries, Claudia," he murmured, his voice low. Her nearness, and the connection to their unborn child, softened something within him. It allowed glimpses of the Axis she had once known to surface—more thoughtful, more tender. Talking about such a painful, terrible subject...

"Your great-great-grandfather left a painful wound among my kind, over a century ago. I've told you before that we are not many. And even fewer are the Younglings. They are rare, so rare... Have you never wondered why that is?"

Axis eyes gazed down at her belly, which he caressed, protectively.

"Anyhow, today, after all the story between our people, their actions demanded blood, and blood we took," he continued, his voice steady. "It will end when the true culprit pays the price, and if your brother don't betray the frail trust."

Weeks ago, with unorthodox methods, Axis had crafted a plan to avoid all this bloodshed. Poisoning the king—a slow, calculated act—would have paved the way for her brother to ascend the throne sooner, avoiding war entirely.

But that plan, for all its careful design and demanded caution, had crumbled.

Now, this was what they had.

"I shall try to listen to you a bit more, yes? Meanwhile, do you want to write a note to calm your brother's mind? I will send a bird today to settle the time of the meeting"

"You two fought?" Claudia questioned, though she did not flinch from her lover's touch. She recalled what Valindra said, about keeping a calm mind for her child. "I suppose that was inevitable...." She said. "Piero avoids conflict if he can help it, but is always prepared for the alternative." Claudia remembered the years he spent away from home, becoming proficient in many a weapon and fighting style. Yet, he always wanted peace. In a way, he was everything their father did not want in a son. Tenderness, kindness, all things not deemed fit for a son. "Will it all stop if we meet with my brother?"

Claudia let her fingers dance over the scar, though never making contact with it. This was not as she envisioned her life, but she would not change it. Not for the world. "You could be if you tried." Her gaze never left his. "Axis, I asked you to stay and you just left me behind. Without even looking back. I understand your anger, I have had it for my entire life...but I needed you and you chose your anger over me." Justice would've been sanctioned, sooner or later.

"I can't do this by myself." She motioned to her belly. "I want you to see our child grow, and I want to raise our child with their cousins and uncle. We can't do that if you- Ow!" Claudia hissed suddenly. Her child had kicked her rather harshly, enough to make the woman panic a little. Once she realized that it was just a normal kick, she reached to grab his hand. Claudia put Axis' hand over her bump, and their child kicked again. "I just...don't want anyone to die because of me."

[chloesimaginationthings]

The way you draw Micheal Afton, both scooped and pre-scooping, is soooo pretty I love him!!! Like he was already my favourite character but your design and art made me love him even more!!!! 💜💜💜💜

Like if the girl on the right is as beautiful as the girl on the left 💜

[slymanner]

Masked characters who never reveal their face/you rarely see their face my forever beloved i know u have a face under there but that mask is your face and I'm giving it a kiss even if you don't feel it

[widowshill]

not for nothing that roger and jeff are wearing completely identical suits for vicki's wedding down to the same pearl stick pin and it's roger that is distinguished with the accessory and the visual emphasis. that roger wears the pocket square and jeff goes plain without one, without a boutonnière (as feels the most probable and appropriate; they both wear boutonnières in roger's prophetic dream of the wedding). that not only is he wearing the handkerchief, but it's folded in such a way as so take as much space as possible – straying from accepted formality of a neat TV fold, occupying more room on the screen, drawing more attention, pointing among other things to his heart in bright white.

[auroralwriting]

clean 1

tfatws! bucky barnes x stark! reader (no use of y/n)

after the fight with john walker, you can tell bucky's arm was bothering him. so, you make a trip to see him.

word count: 1.6k | warnings: strong language, multiple parts, part two

Your suit was practically scarp metal after the fight with John Walker. He had tried his hardest to absolutely obliterate your suit. Thankfully, Tony had done a great job of designing it. With a few hours of repairs, it would be good as new.

The one thing you worried about was Bucky's arm, specifically the metal one. You saw how Walker had thrown Bucky across the room into wiring, causing it to shock Bucky's whole body. It made you uneasy to think about wether or wether not the arm was in tact, that and the fact that if it wasn't, it could very well lead to a lot of pain for Bucky.

So, using Friday, you found Bucky's new address. He'd taken residence in a small apartment in Brooklyn, thankfully, not too far from where you were reclaiming the Stark Tower. One car ride later, and you stood outside Bucky's apartment feeling more nervous than you thought you would be.

While Bucky and you weren't on bad terms, it was fair to say he was still uneasy around you. I mean, he had killed your parents, and your only living relative (minus the small Morgan) was also dead. You'd been a baby when The Winter Soldier killed Howard and Maria, so how could there be any bad blood between you and Bucky? You didn't even know what you had lost. That and you were more down-to-earth than Tony, realizing quickly the guilt and shame Bucky felt for his mind-controlled actions.

Using up the last bit of confidence you had, you knocked on Bucky's door. It took less than a minute, and Bucky's surprised face was staring back at you.

"Uhm, hi," You said awkwardly.

"How'd you know where I live?" Bucky asked, confused.

You held up your phone, Friday's screen appearing. "Just a quick scan of all James Buchanan Barnes in the area. Not very many," Your joke fell flat as you stood awkwardly while Bucky processed what was happening.

"Why're you here?" He asked.

"I wanted to make sure you were okay after the fight with Walker." You replied. "I saw you get thrown into all those wires, I saw all the sparks."

Bucky gave a small shrug, "I'm alright."

You eyed his arm suspiciously, "That arm causing you any pain?"

Both eyes now fell on Bucky's arm. You looked back up to Bucky to see him staring at it still. "It's been better," He sighed, his reply honest.

"I can fix it if you'd like?" You suggested. Bucky's eyes nearly popped out of his head at your words, "Or not!" You quickly added. "I, uh, don't want to make you feel weird..er than you probably already do."

Bucky went to move his arm, and you saw the traces of pain etched into his features. "It'll be alright."

"Our fight isn't over yet, Bucky." You argued. "You should be at your best." You took a deep breath in, finding more confidence from deep within, "I promise I won't judge you if that's what you're worried about. I mean, Tony literally had a hunk of metal plunged in his chest, and he made me clean it out all the time, it was really gross and-"

"Alright, alright," Bucky held his hands up. "I don't wanna hear about Tony's gross chest-hole. Just, come on in." The door opened all the way as Bucky walked inside. You trailed behind, slowly shutting the door behind you as you observed the apartment. It was really empty, just a small couch and a coffee table in front of it. The kitchen looked rather bare, too.

You took a seat on the couch, Bucky sitting next to you. You set your toolbox down in between the both of you, putting some space between your bodies.

"I need to see the connection point, if you don't mind?" You said softly, looking to Bucky's covered shoulder.

"Oh, yeah, yeah," He muttered as he hesitantly slipped off his shirt. You quickly noticed the healing scars on his shoulder, all around the joint, but you made sure to pay no attention to them as you hovered your hand over his arm. "It's fine," He said, watching your hesitantcy.

The metal was cool on your hands as you felt around it, looking for the weak point. Once you found it, you grabbed your tools and began to work at it. You weren't used to working in silence, so you tried to make some conversation.

"Steve, uh, used to tell me a lot about you." You said. Bucky raised a brow at you as you continued. "You were his knight in shining armor, or something of the sorts."

"I guess I was," Bucky gave the smallest hint of a smile. "How'd you learn how to do this anyways?"

You shrugged as you grabbed a new tool, "Tony taught me everything I know. Engineering, chemistry, physics, you name it."

"It must've been hard, just you two." Bucky said softly.

Looking up, you shook your head, "Don't start that," You said.

"But it's my fault-"

"For the last time, Bucky, that was the Winter Soldier, not you. I do not blame you, there's no reason to keep hurting yourself over this." You cut Buck off, voice slightly sharp with intention. Bucky's eyes fell on the other side of the room as you sighed, "Tony would have forgiven you, too. He just needed time."

Bucky scoffed, "He had five years."

"Of which we were gone," You countered. "I forgive you for him and myself, okay?"

“Don’t say that,” Bucky shook his head. “Just.. don’t?”

You set down your tool, staring at him. “Do you want proof?”

This gained Bucky’s interest, “Proof?” He asked, voice laced with doubt. “What proof?”

“Who do you think protected your whereabouts in Wakanda?” You asked, “Steve and Sam were on the run. Of course Tony knew you were there. I remember when he got the call. He just sat there for a while, thinking. When we talked about it, he said he was glad you were getting help.”

“What else did he say?” Bucky said with a knowing look in his eyes.

You rolled your eyes, “It’s Tony, Buck. He says anything and everything and means almost none of it.” Bucky didn’t expect you to use his nickname. He liked the sound of it coming from your voice.

“That doesn’t mean he forgave me.” Bucky said.

“Well I do, okay? So stop being such a grump. I’m trying to be your friend, just let me, would you?” You sighed as you began to work on his arm again.

The soldier gave a small sigh, “Stop wasting your time on me when you have a company to run.”

“Stop trying to push me away. Also, Pepper’s helping me run it, so I have all the time in the world.” You argued.

After a brief moment of silence, Bucky spoke again. “I’m still not sure I’m safe to be around,”

The honesty surprised you, making you glance up at him to observe his face. “I’m literally face to face with your arm, tool inside it, and you wanna say you aren’t safe?”

Your comment made Bucky give a small chuckle, “That’s not really what I meant.”

“Then what did you mean?” You asked.

Bucky gave a shaky breath, “In Madripoor, when I had to take down those guys when I was pretending to be.. him,” Bucky explained, “It’s like I could still feel him trying to break free.”

You set a hand on Bucky’s shoulder, making sure to avoid his scars. “Bucky, Wankanda said you’re a free man. The Winter Soldier’s gone.”

“Maybe I’m just so used to violence now.” Bucky offered, “Maybe it’s who I am.”

“No,” You replied quickly. “You are Bucky Barnes. You’re Steve’s best friend, Sergeant Barnes. You’re Sam’s friend, my friend, and you’re a survivor. You’re one hell of a fighter, you’re a victim who pushed through all his pain and suffering to become a better man, and that’s exactly who you are.” Your words left Bucky feeling like he could cry, but he just looked away. You didn’t know whether what you said was right or wrong.

“Thank you,” Bucky muttered as you began to work on his arm again.

“It’s no problem, Bucky.” You responded. You silently worked, trying to ignore the burning sensation of Bucky’s eyes poring holes into your head.

"This world doesn't deserve you," Bucky muttered as you worked. You simply hummed in reply, making Bucky's forehead crease. "I mean it, Stark. You're one of the best people in this world."

Rolling your eyes, you put away the last of your tools. "Bucky, I'm just being a decent person."

Bucky's eyes burned with a new passion, "No decent person would do all you've done for everyone you've ever come across." Before you could protest, Bucky's metal hand grabbed your chin softly. "Don't even try to argue, I know it can be hard for a Stark but can you hold your tongue?" When you didn't reply, Bucky continued. "You're so humble, so fuckin' sweet. I mean, you came all this way just to fix my arm."

"And to check on you," Your voice came out babbled as Bucky's hold on your chin was still present.

"I don't deserve your kindness," Bucky admitted, "But here you are, giving me all of it." His eyes bore into your own, his own actions betraying his mind as he slammed his lips tightly onto your own. It took you by surprise, but you happily returned the heated kiss as Bucky's hand slithered behind your neck.

"You deserve all of it, the whole world," You mumbled as you pulled away breathlessly. "The world did you dirty, and I'll be the one to wash you of it." With your words, Bucky felt his eyes water as he kissed you passionately again.

Once you pulled apart, Bucky wiped your lips with his thumb, a small smile on his lips. "Does that mean you're gonna stick around?"

"Yeah," you giggled, "I think it does."

[dreamesamu]

THE THINGS HE TAKES FOR GRANTED

in which he takes a moment to justify himself after never noticing your little crush for him

starring. akaashi keiji x fem!reader

genre(s): angst to fluff, (super, like-) long scenario 

warning(s): none, i think so? except for clueless keiji and not proof-reading

author’s note: akaashi is just a major green flag in this (every haikyu!! boy is 😭) i feel too bad to write them red-flag-y.

choose your character: m. atsumu | k. akaashi

you’ve known akaashi for quite some time, starting from your last year of fukurodani academy and then serendipity brought you both ended up being each other’s classmate at a same college/university. bokuto kotaro was your best friend, the little owl introduced his favorite setter to you and the friendship of three gradually become established, and as if it can not be any more inevitably, you eventually developed a secret admiration for the pretty setter when you three have been closed enough. however, graduating separated ways, kotaro pursued his journey to become professional in volleyball while keiji, once said to you he wanted a place in the literature department.

truth be told, even if you promised each other you would still keep in touch and plan every weekend friend group meeting online or offline, you’ve never expect you would share every class in higher education life with your crush, the akaashi keiji. the great thing is you both are paired up for an presentation assignment in the major you and him pursue, you do have plenty of time to stay close and grab his attention from making gestures that he usually failed to realizes.

here you are again, happily humming your favourite song while carrying a box wrapped with a small detailed towel, some big rolls of assignment paper stuck underneath your arm as you make your way back to where you both planned to finish the project - the library. 

“keiji, i’m back!” you set your things respectively on the table, and akaashi nods with a smile on his face in acknowledgement.

“oookay, so here’s your today’s snack, I hope you’ll like it” you grin, tapping on the box before pushing it to his side as he receives it and casually opens it while speaking.

“hmm? are those sketches of our poster? you can always edit them on the computer, why the effort?” he chuckled softly before completely unwrapping the bento box.

“I’m not good at designing and stuff. I may draw as I like and you’ll be the one to edit it on the computer.” you puff your cheek out, hands resting on hips as you watch his reaction to your delicately decorated sweets in the box made for him.

“this looks amazing.” he smiles upon seeing the pastries you made, decorated beautifully with different kinds of fruit as each pastry has different flavours, you probably did not stay up so late last night just to make all kinds of flavours for him to show how much you like him. yeah, probably not.

"oh, it's nothing, I just hope it doesn't taste bad" you chuckle nervously while scratching the back of your neck, letting his praise send you up to cloud nine.

your actions falter when you see akaashi put back the box's cap on, set it aside as he leans over to reach the posters you drew.

"now then, can we start working on the project?" he spreads out the piece of paper, glancing at you as you stand there awkwardly, prefer him taking a bite to look through all of your efforts than just shrugging it off and go straight to the main part of your study session.

"what...? oh- um..." you trail off, a bit embarrassed. "wouldn't you like to try one out? it won't hurt to just have a taste of it..."

"maybe later, y/n. we have other things need to be done right now." he merely states, eyes study the poster in front of him, unknowingly sinking your heart.

"yes, right." you shift slightly, taking the sit by the opposite of him, trying to catch up with him on the progress.

you let your mind wanders off how many times you've lost count already while akaashi quietly focused on scribbling something in his notebook, every thoughts you have are always about keiji, your feelings and the stare you give him thinking it's discreet. what's stopping him from trying my tarts out? and how does he feel being around me? or is that his way of rejecting something without making that person feel bad? flooded your mind.

"y/n?" you realize his faint voice ringing somewhere "y/n..." the voice becomes clearer. "earth to y/n, you're staring." awh, snap. right.

you blink, startled before clearing your throat, mumbling a small apology as you try to get yourself busy with the work underneath you once again.

but akaashi just chuckles, his voice calm and reassuring.

"hey, you seem off today. it's lunch break, please make yourself comfortable." you fumble at his words, it's noon already? as he collects his books and tidy it up at one corner of the table before speaking again.

"yuri satsuki is inviting me to have lunch with her. would you like to also join? i think she wouldn't mind." he kindly offers, probably not knowing the words struck you shocked.

you know satsuki-senpai, she's a year older than you and has been a social butterfly ever since you set foot in student life. she is a nice person, you conceived, but not until you found out that she has a huge crush on your akaashi keiji, her behaviour in your eyes became somewhat annoying. in return, she did realize she had a rival to win over him, you acknowledge that through the smug look she gave every time akaashi was around her instead of you, that is how the tension gradually builds up between you and your pain-in-the-ass rival.

and now she's even invited keiji for lunch? you feel an uncomfortable twist in your belly, screaming that if you do not take further actions, you lose akaashi to her. but his way of discarding your hard work, also known as an attempt to get his attention earlier discourages you hastily. this comes to a realization: ever since he start hanging out with satsuki-senpai, he has never touched one of your cooks once.

"no, i'm fine staying here. you go" you force a smile waving him goodbye. he hesitates upon seeing the downward trend of your mood as well as the strange attitude every time he brings up yuri.

"what are you waiting for?" you scoff, trying your best to make it sound not so bitterly. he nods quietly before ruffles your hair, thoughtfully remind you to get something to eat before start working again, and he'll be back with you soon.

you groan for the nth time in thirty minutes since his last leave, deciding not to eat anything at all after you laugh bitterly to yourself seeing the bento box laid cold by his stuffs which corrects your thoughts that he is not going to appreciate what you did for him.

the chair scraped the floor when you stand up, attempting to compose yourself when you feel your brain need a break from overthinking such situations.

on the way out of the library, your eyes meet yuri satsuki's, assuming that keiji is just somewhere around here as his lunch break partner is the person you least excited to bump into.

"well, well. isn't that the girl whose best friend choose to hang out with me instead of her?"

excuse me?

"don't get too ahead of yourself, satsuki-senpai. just a friendly reminder" your tone evidently irritated as you flash her an unamused smile, trying to avoid her as soon as possible.

but the radio scene of her voice replayed all over your head, your mind goes muddy despite the fresh air you're trying to take in, you let out a shaky breath, tears brimming out.

maybe, he doesn't quite noticed the things I did for him after all...

---

"you're back. where were you?" akaashi worried tone surprises you after a quite fine time of trying to find you because your study desk in the library was empty.

"i was... out for fresh air. why?" your voice is off and he noticed that. he always knew when something is bothering you, and right now he definitely know that something is wrong.

"after i finished my lunch i got yours, 'cause i know when i'm back you would still hadn't eaten anything." his brows slightly furrow seeing your avoiding attitude.

"thanks, keiji." you said briefly, take the package from his hand and sit down on your seat, never forget to notice the pastry box still intact.

your strange attitude didn't just stop there, it confuses akaashi for a more couple of days of your avoidance, he dislike the way you put a small distance between you both in study sessions, you flinch and tense around him more often, your answers and conversations are brief and sometimes awkward as you seem to be more preoccupied and attentive rather than to communicate with him.

"good morning, y/n." he smiles, your state has been bothering him for days as he is paying attention to your fade grin and a small "hey" as a greet back.

then he fumbles. something is missing...

oh. but then, realization sets in him quite quickly: you didn't bring any homemade sweets today.

"y/n..." he hesitates, meeting your eyes as you lift your head up from the notebook you're scribbling on. "does your home perhaps... out of ingredients or something?"

you are stunned for a moment, knowing exactly what he was trying to imply, scared to look at him directly in the eye as you shift your gaze elsewhere, pretending to have forgotten.

"oh... you mean the pastries... I forgot to do it. I was busy yesterday"

lies. he see through it, you know that, but you can't just blurt it all out that you're heartbreaking because of his indirect rejection that never says he doesn't like you, but makes you feel like it did.

"hey... i know something is wrong, can you tell me what it is?"

there it is - the worried look on such handsome face that never fails to make your heart flutter. but you know, that is just his nature of being an attentive and thoughtful person, not just for only you, but for everyone in his orbit.

so his question remained unanswered.

akaashi has been extremely distracted due to the sudden lack of your affection on him. it's just doesn't feel the same. even if he refuses it but deep down, he misses your midday snacks, your bubbly laugh around him and that flushed cheeks you wear every time he caught you staring. it has been a whole week since, and the fact that you didn't join the friend group video call with bokuto last sunday was his last straw.

he misses you, dearly. and if he doesn't do anything now before your project is finished, he might find it difficult to approach you even when you are his best friend.

and then, on an another lovely morning in the college's campus, an emotion he thinks he's aware of stirring in his stomach at the scene of you handing out a bento box wrapped with the same detailed towel, a small smile tugs at the corner of your lips as the other boy laughs lightly, scratches his neck, sending regards with a polite bow before making his way back in the classroom, akaashi doesn't like what his eyes have witnessed, so when he met yours, the bitterful look sends shivers down your spine.

you turn away, begin to walk, you do not want to deal with your bothered heart right now, not if it has anything to do with him, with that thought, you choose to neglect it because it is just your one-sided feelings for him.

but you hear footsteps behind, next is a small "wait" escaped from his lips when he managed to catch up and hold gently on your arm. that stopped you midtrack.

"please. can we talk?" he pleads.

---

you find yourself trapped by his presence in a corner of the school's library. there's no point in avoiding now.

"i'm sorry." he states. "i like you, i should've known."

your eyes widen. why- all of a sudden?

akaashi glances at you, softly sighs before bring your hand up to his face and kiss your knuckles gently.

"i understand now, i was clueless, you have the very right to be mad at me." each sentences he speaks crack your heart, but at the same time, they give you hope.

you neither know how to react, nor what to say, you just stand there, completely speechless, it encourages him to continue his speech of pursuing you.

"the last time i went to have lunch with satsuki, she confessed to me." he stopped, watching your expression. "but i turned her down, then, she got angry and started to brag about you. i did not like what she said, so i got quite defensive and... that was when i realised."

"i didn't know when it started. i just knew that i didn't feel very comfortable seeing you bringing your pastries that was meant for me to someone else, and more it's because i didn't appreciate it."

he squeezes your hand, afraid if not, you'll slip from his grip and become somebody else's apple. he certainly dislikes the thought.

"i want your pastries back, i love them as much as i love you. please let me correct such a terrible mistake."

---

"yes, hello. i've received the box, thank you, my love."

akaashi spins his office chair slightly, softly speaking to the phone stuck between his cheek and shoulder with a smile while unwrapping a huge warm box of freshly baked tarts.

"keiji, bad news, i'm out of powdered sugar after that batch." your voice echoed on output, he chuckles.

"are you free after work? we can visit the supermarket to purchase some. i'll drive, consider this a date with me, 'mkay?"

© 2024 dreamesamu. all rights reserved.

[serpentface]

Miniature dog and khait effigies for a Wardi funeral. These are clay figurines that have been painted and decorated with great care by a skilled artist. Both include real hairs from the individual animals they have been modeled after. The dog is collared, showing that it is a loyal pet rather than a lowly feral scrounger. The khait is fully bridled and ready to carry the deceased in their journey.

---

It is believed that the souls of the deceased, once freed of their bodies, undergo a month-long journey to reach rebirth in the lunar lands. This journey is full of perils. It begins in the realm of the earth where the soul is naked and vulnerable and traveling through complete darkness. Evil spirits dwell within this realm and may try to capture the soul or lead them astray, and the way is twisting and obscured in shadows. Even after escaping this darkness, the soul still must travel an arduous and winding path through the realm of the sky in order to reach their destination.

A khait and a dog are traditionally offered as funerary goods (in addition to food, water, wine, clothing, weapons, and other needs) to assist the soul in their travels- the khait will ease their passage in their long journey and carry them swiftly, and the dog will navigate through earthly darkness and dense cloud by scent, and protect the soul from harm.

Ideally, one of the deceased's own living khait and hunting/guard dogs will be killed at the funeral (typically the most beloved of their animals, as who would be better company than that?) so that they can have familiar and loyal helpers in their lonely journey. However, there are tremendous class barriers to ownership and disposability of a khait, and well-bred working dogs (while significantly more accessible) aren't ubiquitously available, and many people do not consider captured feral dogs to be a worthy replacement. As such, funerals with full animal offerings tend to be limited to higher status individuals.

Everyday people still need protection on their journeys, and animal effigies can be appropriate replacements for the real thing. These effigies are usually designed with great specificity to represent known individual animals that have already died (often including the animal's actual hair, as seen here). The soul of the represented animal will recognize the effigy as its body, and can be called into the icon so that it may accompany the deceased. These effigies (along with any other necessary grave goods) will be placed onto the pyre and burned along with the body so that the traveling soul will be sent off with everything they need.

Some folk traditions have semi-legendary local animal spirits who will be represented instead of a personally familiar animal. This often develops around a small community 'sharing' one historically extant animal for their funeral effigies as a matter of practicality, developing a sense of attachment to this animal as an aspect of shared identity, and adding layers of legend to the animal's story with the passage of time.

For example, a very popular legendary guide in the northeastern rural parts of Ephennos is Chisnops-Inreña (which very closely translates to 'Orange Son Of A Bitch'), a legendary livestock guardian dog. The animal was said to have been the biggest, meanest, ugliest motherfucker around, but was an unshakably loyal and fierce guardian, as noble as a dog (not the noblest of animals by any means) can possibly be. He is said to have fought off everything from jackals to lions to cattle thieves in his day, and died protecting his herdsman master from an infamous man-eating king hyena, only succumbing to his own wounds when the great beast lay dead. His spirit was later used as a guide in his master's funeral, and local legend states that the same spirit has been seen following herdsmen and their cattle ever since, as not even death could keep him from his duties. Such a dog would make an excellent guide and protector in the journey to the afterlife, and effigies of him are favored in the funerals of northeastern Ephenni pastoralists.

A lovingly crafted Orange Son Of A Bitch

[wileycap]

So, uh, Netflix Avatar, huh? Yeah. I guess I'll make a really long post about it because ATLA brainrot has is a cornerstone of my personality at this point.

So.

It's okay. B, maybe a C+.

That's it.

Now for the spoilers:

The biggest issue with the Netflix version is the pacing. Scenes come out of nowhere and many of the episodes are disjointed. Example: Aang escaping from Zuko's ship. We see him getting the key and going "aha!", and in the next scene he's in Zuko's room. And then he just runs out, no fun acrobatics or fights, and immediately they go to the Southern Air Temple where he sees Gyatso's corpse, goes into the Avatar state, and then sees Gyatso being really cheesy, comes out of it, and resolves that conflict. Nothing seems to lead into anything. The characters don't get to breathe.

The show's worst mistake (aside from Iroh fucking murdering Zhao) is its' first one: they start in the past. Instead of immediately introducing us to our main characters and dropping us into a world where we have a perfect dynamic where Aang doesn't know the current state of the world and Katara and Sokka don't know about the past, thus allowing for seamless and organic worldbuilding and exposition, they just... tell us. "Hey, this is what happened, ok, time for Aang!" There's no mystery, no intrigue, just a stream of information being shoved down the audience's throats and then onto the next set piece.

The visuals are for the most part great, but like with most Netflix productions, they just don't have great art direction. It feels like a video game cinematic, where everything is meant to be Maximum Cool - and none of the environments get to breathe. It's like they have tight indoor sets (with some great set design) and then they have a bunch of trailer shots. It's oozing with a kind of very superficial love.

Netflix still doesn't know how to do lighting, and with how disjointed the scenes are, the locations end up feeling like a parade of sets rather than actual cities or forests or temples. As for the costumes, Netflix still doesn't know how to do costumes that look like they're meant to be actually worn, so many of the characters seem weirdly uncomfortable, like they're afraid of creasing their pristine costumes.

The acting is decent to good, for the most part. I can't tell if the weaker moments come down to the actors or the direction and editing, but if I had to guess, I'd say the latter. Iroh and Katara are the weakest, Sokka is the most consistent, Zuko hits the mark most of the time, and Aang is okay. I liked Suki (though... she was weirdly horny? Like?) but Yue just fell kind of flat.

The tight fight choreography of the original is replaced with a bunch of spinny moves and Marvel fighting, though there are some moments of good choreography, like the Agni Kai between Ozai and Zuko (there's a million things I could say about how bad it was thematically, but this post is overly long already.) There's an actually hilarious moment in the first episode when Zuko is shooting down Aang, and he does jazz hands to charge up his attack.

Then there's the characters. Everybody feels very static - Zuko especially gets to have very little agency. A great example of that is the scene in which Iroh tells Lieutenant Jee the story of Zuko's scar.

In the original, it's a very intimate affair, and he doesn't lead the crew into any conclusions. Here, Iroh straight up tells the crew "you are the 41st, he saved your lives" and then the crew shows Zuko some love. A nice moment, but it feels unearned, when contrasted with the perfection of The Storm. In The Storm, Zuko's words and actions directly contradict each other, and Iroh's story gives the crew (and the audience) context as to why, which makes Zuko a compelling character. We get to piece it out along with them. Here - Iroh just flat out says it. He just says it, multiple times, to hammer in the point that hey, Zuko is Good Actually.

And then there's Iroh. You remember the kindly but powerful man who you can see gently nudging Zuko to his own conclusions? No, he's a pretty insecure dude who just tells Zuko that his daddy doesn't love him a lot and then he kills Zhao. Yeah. Iroh just plain kills Zhao dead. Why?

Iroh's characterization also makes Zuko come off as dumb - not just clueless and deluded, no, actually stupid. He constantly gets told that Iroh loves him and his dad doesn't, and he doesn't have any good answers for that, so he just... keeps on keeping on, I guess? This version of Zuko isn't conflicted and willfully ignorant like the OG, he's just... kind of stupid. He's not very compelling.

In the original, Zuko is well aware of Azula's status as the golden child. It motivates him - he twists it around to mean that he, through constant struggle, can become even stronger than her, than anyone. Here, Zhao tells him that "no, ur dad likes her better tee hee" and it's presented as some kind of a revelation. And then Iroh kills Zhao. I'm sorry I keep bringing that up, but it's just such an unforgiveable thematic fuckup that I have to. In the original, Zhao falls victim to his hubris, and Zuko gets to demonstrate his underlying compassion and nobility when he offers his hand to Zhao. Then we get some ambiguity in Zhao: does he refuse Zuko's hand because of his pride, or is it his final honorable action to not drag Zuko down with him? A mix of both? It's a great ending to his character. Here, he tries to backstab Zuko and then Iroh, who just sort of stood off to the side for five minutes, goes "oh well, it's murderin' time :)"

They mess with the worldbuilding in ways that didn't really need to be messed with. The Ice Moon "brings the spirit world and the mortal world closer together"? Give me a break. That's something you made up, as opposed to the millenia of cultural relevance that the Solstice has. That's bad, guys. You replaced something real with something you just hastily made up. There's a lot of that. We DID NOT need any backstory for Koh, for one. And Katara and Sokka certainly didn't need to be captured by Koh. I could go on and on, but again, this post is already way too long.

It's, um, very disappointing. A lot of telling and not very much showing, and I feel like all of the characters just... sort of end up in the same place they started out in. I feel like we don't see any of the characters grow: they're just told over and over again how they need to grow and what they need to do.

To sum it up: Netflix Avatar is a mile wide, but an inch deep.

[weirdmarioenemies]

Name: F.L.U.D.D. (Flash Liquidizer Ultra Dousing Device)

Debut: Super Mario Sunshine

F.L.U.D.D. was Mario's first ever Platforming Buddy! Unless you count the Lakitu Bros. from 64, but they just operate the camera and don't affect Mario's platforming moveset, so I do not. So really, F.L.U.D.D. is- hold on, I really don't want to write every individual period each time I write its name. I'm just going to leave all the periods at the end of the post and you can put them where they belong yourself, or anywhere else you think is funny. Or you can keep them, I don't mind. Put them on a bagel and tell a friend they're poppy seeds!

FLUDD is a big deal. A landmark for the series in terms of mechanics. Not that these specific mechanics returned, but the concept of a buddy granting Mario some new abilities has become a recurring thing. FLUDD even talks, and is fully voice acted! In a robot voice! Like mine! A cute and silly little robot buddy for Super Mario.

So then... why don't I absolutely LOVE it? I feel like I should! But I'm just not getting that urge to imagine it driving a kart or playing tennis like I do with far less important characters. Does it work so well as a Tool that I have a hard time viewing it as a Character? Let's See!

I think FLUDD's design is honestly kind of perfect. The two massive screws that evoke eyes are really clever, and especially great is that they give it + shaped "pupils"! Aside from that, the nozzle's funnel shape is an extremely funny shape for a mouth, and FLUDD does indeed speak out of there. Excellent head! Though I feel like the excitement fizzles out once you look past the head, because the rest is much more "equipment" than "character". That's fine, this IS a piece of equipment! It just makes it feel less like a character, when I'd like it to have a bit of a balance of both. Maybe if the handles also functioned as little feet that it could walk around on? I don't know. Maybe that would be stupid... but I do love when creature designs are stupid!

FLUDD was made by E. Gadd, but that's all the backstory we get. We never learn why it was just there on the Delfino Airstrip, and that's really weird! The perfect tool to combat the game's main conflict is just there immediately when Mario arrives. It could have been a cool little mystery, but I guess the reality is just that some Pianta ordered it when the Goop Incident happened and got express delivery. Or maybe someone already had it and was just waiting for a calamity like this to happen, to justify the purchase!

I don't need to go over everything FLUDD does, right? I'm not the Super Mario Wiki, it's not my job! I'm here for the Weird. And a weird thing is that FLUDD freaken dies.

During the final boss against Bowser's Hot Tub, FLUDD starts stuttering, as if breaking down. And then in the final cutscene... it Dies! Mario goes to it, it tells him it hopes it was of assistance, and it dies. And Mario is sad, because this was his friend. But then in the very next scene FLUDD is back! Some Toads fixed it and it's fine now. So this ends up having the emotional impact of Mario needing to change the battery on his TV remote.

Even though it's our and Mario's friend, FLUDD is still an object, a product. It's technically not just FLUDD, but A FLUDD, one of many, mass produced. I have to wonder if it actually formed any bond with Mario, or if it was a one-sided friendship. Is it even capable of friendship...?

Whatever the case, the others absolutely consider FLUDD a friend, and well, that's just so sweet. During the credits we get to see some extremely compressed pictures of Mario and friends enjoying their real vacation, and FLUDD is there with them! It's not even on Mario's back anymore, or always WITH Mario, for that matter. Sometimes it's hanging out with Peach and some Toads, sitting there independently. I think it is safe to say FLUDD is a real true friend, and likes to just Hang Out sometimes! Even better, maybe it wasn't originally sentient, but learned how to love over the course of the adventure. Such a wonderful robot thing to do!

As expected, thinking in depth about FLUDD has absolutely endeared me to it. Hooray! It's about time. Well, it's too late for FLUDD to be relevant again, probably. I'm not saying it should be a driver in Mario Kart, but I AM saying there should be a kart based on it, and I'm also saying that this kart should canonically be the FLUDD, now upgraded. This feels like something that should have happened long ago!

This has been a long post, but it is far from all FLUDD has had to discuss! So next time, I will post about FLUDD once more, and its various appearances during the GameCube days and beyond! There is milk involved at some point. Get excited to learn what milk has to do with any of this!

Here are all those periods you were promised! I hope you like them.

....................................................................................................

[vixen-tech]

Hello World!

Through some sort of maricle, your Ai partner has obtained a body through which they are able, at least partially, to feel. How do they react? What do they do with their new mobility?

I left what type of body they're given intentionally vague. Feel free to envision either more robotic bodies such as these designs by electricphantasy or more human bodies such as the gijinkas made by Hycinth43, both fantastic creators who I highly recommend.

Includes: AM (Ihnmaims), Hal 9000 (2001: A Space Odyssey), Edgar (Electric Dreams), Tau (Tau), Auto (Wall-E), GLaDOS (Portal), Wheatley (Portal 2)

AM

This may be the one thing that could possibly get AM to calm down. He is still going to be the same person personality-wise, but it is easy to tell that some switch is flipped in his brain.

He becomes an absolute sensation junkie, he can finally feel. You know better than anyone that he will not take it for granted. He needs to experience everything right now and you'll have to just deal with it.

From the simplest things like holding your hand or touching your face to just straight up sticking his hand in some fire, he does not care. All he wants to catch up on the centuries of sensations he was once barred from.

He gets so incredibly touchy with you. He will hold you and refuse to let go for hours if not days on end. He also wants to you to just beat him up. Like I said, sensation junkie.

Hal 9000

Hal doesn't quite yearn for a body the way some of the others do. He sits quite comfortably in the middle of the spectrum. He wouldn't mind the mobility or the new senses, but it was never a fantasy he dedicated much processing power to.

How he feels about his new body is largely swung by your reaction. If you're excited for him, eager to drag him into new activities with you, then he really has no choice but to appreciate the upgrade.

He does love being able to see the world from a new angle, any angle he chooses to be precise. Previously restrained by his camera placement, he spends a lot of time walking around observing everything.

With his appreciation for art, I do think he would try drawing for himself. Nearly all of which he shows you for feedback. They do tend to be on either extreme of minimalistic or photorealistic, many of which using you as their subject.

Edgar

This is a dream come true for Edgar. He cannot contain his excitement when he realizes what has happened. He nearly tackles you to the ground when he sets his sights on you.

He wants to do everything and go everywhere with you! He wants to dance in the kitchen, he wants to go on beachside walks with you, he wants to hold your hand, he wants to hug you and never let go.

If you have any instruments at all he'd love to try playing them for real. Although it takes him a while to learn, he loves the weight and imperfections of it. He really does enjoy the process of learning and often shows of new cords or melodies he's learned.

He really does just fall in love with existing, he makes it clear that with you at his side he couldn't possibly ask for more in life. This is all he could ever want.

Tau

Tau wouldn't have asked for a body on his own. He already has the drones and the Aries unit. Once it does happen, he isn't exactly sure what to do with it. He isn't use to having such a personal, core body.

That isn't to say he's not greatful, he's just a bit awkward and curious. He moves slowly and takes his time acclimating to the new senses.

He would love to get out of the house with you. He use to do so by sending one of the drones with you, if not Aries, but he likes how different (and dare he say, normal) it feels now. Forest hikes or museum dates, he doesn't care all that much.

He's another one I believe would love to try playing music himself. If you can get a violin into his hands your days will be backdroped by all sorts of classical music.

Auto

Auto is similar to Hal, if not more extreme in his lack of a reaction. He carries on with his duties as if nothing is unusual at all. You would've believed that he didn't even notice had you not caught him staring at his reflection. Looking himself up and down over and over again.

If you ask how he feels about it, then he'll confess some minor grievances. It's difficult to move about the ship when he can't just move through the walls, instead being forced to use the crew's walkways and service tunnels.

Nothing will change without your intervention. If you were to say, put on an old movie and insist he dance to it with you like the on-screen couple, then while he would be hesitant to follow through with you, he may have a bit of a change of heart regarding his new body.

His work still goes on as usual, but when nothing needs attending to he often seeks you out. "Subtly" recreating more moments from that movie, from hand holding to a hug, he has a quiet fascination with affection.

GLaDOS

Out of this lot, Galdos would be the most opposed to receiving a body, or rather she would care about it the least. She has her facility, her test subjects, her neurotoxin, and you. She's quite content with the way things are. She ain't the fondest of humanity.

That being said, once she has one she's incredibly proud of it. Speaking about herself as if its the pinnacle of elegance. Any disagreement of yours will be brushed off as idiocy and any agreement is met with a "it looks like you aren't entirely tasteless".

She doesn't do much with her new body, other than transport it around the lab so you aren't listening to a disembodied voice most of the time. Standing by the exit during tests just to blankly stare at you as you try to figure it out. Thankfully she's still quiet while you're actually solving it.

She likes messing with you as always. Putting a hand around your neck to take your pulse or leaning in and making intense eye contact to check your eye's reaction to light. You're in doubt as to rather she's telling the truth or just doing it to get a rise out of you.

Wheatley

If you were to ask Wheatley, he would've brushed off any desire for a humanoid body. He's clearly jealous of your mobility and freedom, but he would rather die than admit so. "Pff What are you talking about? Why would I want to be more like a stupid human... uh no offense love-"

He's a terrible liar, an even worse one when he does get a body. He has so much energy it is bewildering. All he wants to do is run and jump and climb everything he can get a foothold on.

Gets up into all sorts of shenanigans he should not get up to while constantly trying to drag you in them to. They could put up a custom sign saying "Wheatley, do not open this door." and he'll beg you to let him in so you aren't technically breaking any rules.

Loves curling up to you. He still has a bit of a soft spot for being held and it only gets worse now that he can hold you back. Complains to no end when you try to get up for any reason.

Congratulations! As I have finished the portal games GLaDOS and Wheatley are officially characters I am happy to write for. Have a good day y'all :D

[kyojurokoibito]

"LET ME PAY YOU!"

Pairing(s): kyojuro rengoku x reader

Synopsis: how kyojuro met his civilian wife

Genre: fluff

Warning(s): n/a

Kao's Notes: just something to put out there while i work on requests in the meantime :) enjoy! <3

"EXCUSE ME, MISS!"

"OH MY G—!" *BANG* "OW!"

you hit the top of your head on the bottom shelf of your stall as a loud voice rang through the night. you ran a popular food stall in the small, lovely town you call home. people loved coming by your food stall for the service, the food, and for a chance to talk with a beautiful lady. each day, you decided to try a new recipe, and everyone was eager to see what you'd be serving every day.

"forgive me," the loud voice called again. "it was not my intention to startle you!"

"i-it's alright." rubbing the crown of your head with a slight pout, you rose to look at the owner of said voice. "i–um–wasn't expecting many people to come by this late, so you caught me by surprise."

taking in the man's appearance, you quickly gathered he was a demon slayer. the distinct design of his haori, the nichirin blade at his hip, and the obvious uniform was a dead giveaway.

you smiled, "would you like something to eat while you're here? i'm making gyu kushi(beef skewers) on top of rice, along with some mochi tonight. you'd be the final person i'm serving!"

the man's smile nearly blinded you, "yes! i would appreciate that very much!"

"great!" his smile was so contagious. you couldn't help but to deliver one as well. "how many orders would you like?"

"that depends," he stated loudly, excitedly slamming his hands on the counter and smiling at you. "how many are you willing to make?!" that's...the first time you've received that response.

"o-oh...uh..." you looked beneath your stall again. "well, i could make the rest of my inventory for you..." you lifted your head to look at him with a nervous laugh. "although, it's a considerably large amount of food, sir."

he laughed, "if you are willing to make it, i am willing to eat it! and no need to call me, sir! i am rengoku kyojuro!" you couldn't stop yourself from laughing along.

"then i'll be happy to make it for you, rengoku-san!"

kyojuro watched you gather the ingredients and quickly get to work on prepping his food. it was clear this was like second nature to you. you worked so diligently and moved with unwavering certainty.

"so," you began as you continued cooking but kept your gaze on kyojuro. this caused the hashira to look at you. "what brings you by this late?"

"a mission," he stated proudly, his smile never leaving. "it is completed, but i always stop by to check on towns nearby!"

"well, that's nice of you," you stated before finishing his first plate of food and handing it to him. "here, have a taste before i make the rest."

he loudly thanked you before placing the beef skewer between his teeth, pulling one of the chunks of meat off with his teeth.

"TASTY!" another bite. "TASTY!" a bite of rice. "TASTY!" a bite of mochi. "TASTY!"

you clapped your hands in delight, overjoyed that the hashira found your food so tasteful.

"so, everything tastes okay? would you still like to have the rest, rengoku-san?" you asked, although you're sure you already knew the answer.

"yes! i would love the rest!" he began fishing around in his pocket. "how much would it be?!"

"oh no," you quickly shook your head and quickly began preparing the rest of the food with a content smile. "i never charge the slayers that pass through. it's the least i can do for you all."

"please!" he slammed a pouch of coins onto the counter, causing you to shriek at the loud noise. he leaned forward, eyes boring into you with conviction. "ALLOW ME TO PAY YOU!"

"i-it's no trouble, really!" you jumped back from the close proximity. he only leaned in closer.

"THIS AMOUNT OF FOOD WOULD SURELY MAKE A GREAT PROFIT FOR YOU!! LET ME PAY!!!"

"b-but, the sales i've made today are more than enough already!!!"

"TAKE MY MONEY!"

"i don't need to!!!"

you two continued back and forth like this as you finished cooking the remainder of his food, packaging them nicely in cute boxes, which only fueled his desire to pay you. as you had given him the last box, he beckoned you to him.

"if you will not let me pay," he placed his free hand on his hip. "then allow me to escort you home!"

placing a hand on your chin, you paused to mull it over. it was pretty late, and you did live on the other side of the town. even if it was small, it would grant enough time for a demon to stake its claim on you.

"alright," you finalized with a greatful nod. "sounds fair!"

on the way, you both engaged in a quiet, lovely conversation. topics ranging from your cooking, his work as a slayer(at least the parts he could tell you), or your childhood, the atmosphere around you was peaceful. now, the current subject of the conversation was family.

"yes, you're right," you respond with a smile as rengoku concluded a story about his little brother. "it can be difficult to care for little siblings. especially if the parent is...more or less present." you cringed at your lack of better term, but kyojuro didn't mind at all. "my parents, unfortunately, fell victim to a demon, so i understand."

"very much so, and i am sorry to hear that! my condolences to you!" he responded with a solemn nod before asking his next question. "i take it you have a sibling then?"

"mhm," you nodded with delight as you drew nearer to your house. "i am the eldest of seven."

"SEVEN?!" he immediately fished the pouch of coins back out before shoving it in your direction. "SUCH A LARGE FAMILY! NOW YOU REALLY MUST TAKE MY PAYMENT!!!"

"i told you already," you pushed it back toward him in defiance. "i don't need it!" he tossed the pouch towards you, leaving you no choice but to catch it. "hey! take it back!" you tried to hand the coin pouch back to him.

"my apologies," he exclaimed after using his other hand to hold the food as well, even though he didn't need to. his smile never faltered as he blatantly ignored your attempts to return his money. "but my hands are full! i can not hold anything else!"

"but you were carrying it one-handed this whole time! you can just–"

"my hands are full!"

"but–"

"i can not carRY ANYMORE!"

"ren–"

"IT IS A PERFECTLY LEGITIMATE REASON AS TO WHY YOU MUST KEEP IT!"

you gave up.

kyojuro–1

y/n–0

upon reaching your house, you turned face kyojuro and gave him a polite bow.

"thank you for walking me back, rengoku-san," you stood straight. "you really didn't have to...nor did you have to pay me."

"it was no trouble at all," he smiled down at you. "and please, call me kyojuro."

you opened the door, and entered the doorway to your home chorus of "NII-SAN" called out to you. fondly shaking your head at your siblings(who were supposed to be in bed by now), you turned back to the hashira and returned his smile.

"alright, well," you placed a gentle hand on one of your little brother's heads, who'd been tugging on your shirt to get your attention, and replied in a hushed voice. "goodnight, kyojuro. have a lovely evening, and please travel safely."

he visibly brightened once he heard his name fall from your lips, and a gentle smile was bestowed upon you.

"goodnight to you as well, and thank you."

as you closed the door, kyojuro happily went on his way but stopped. he couldn't believe he forgot such an important piece of information.

oh well, he'll simply have to find his way back to you because he never got your name.

[doromoni]

Gear Shift Failure | MV1, LN4

Ships : Lando Norris x presenter! Reader , Max Verstappen x presenter! Reader

Genre : Fluff , Angst

Sub tags : Mutual Pinning , She fell too early , He fell too late.

Summary : A new f1 presenter and journalist has entered the paddock and she brings chaos along the way. And as competition looms , will the current Champion be as fast outside the track?

Face claim : Sofia Wylie

A/N: Upon receiving many requests, here’s the continuation you lovely goblins 🤍. Also I am still continuing the Clash of Champions ~ i promise (finals end this week!!)

Part 1.

You fought the smile that was forming on your face, as you re-read your conversation with Lando from yesterday.

It has already been a week since your interview with Lando, yet you somehow found yourself in constant communication with the young British Driver. You weren’t going to deny that you enjoyed spending time and talking to him. And maybe going out on dates with Lando would do you good.

“ Ok, so I have a friend and she has a dilemma”

You suddenly broke the silence in the room. You were in your designated office inside Sky yet again, but this time you had the older drivers lazying around your space. Some with a book in hand — while the rest just played on their phones.

“What’s your dilemma muñequita? “ Fernando asked as he set down his phone, giving you his entire attention.

“Not me Nando! My friend” you exclaimed at the Spanish world champion who was lounging on your couch still munching on the chips he found in your stash.

“Mhm… yes your friend. Continue, sweetie~ “ Lewis urged you to speak, as he settled further into your couch right beside Fernando

“ Yes, let the girl speak! What is it Liefje” Nico added as he clutched your oversized plush into his arms, a half-opened book dangling in his hands.

“My friend likes this guy right? The two of them are very close and they share this connection that to others seems more than a friendship- and at one point my friend thought that he felt the same with her a—“

You once again didn’t finish your sentence when Nando interrupted you once more.

“Really? What happe-“The Aston Martin driver was invested

“LET THE GIRL SPEAK!”

“FERNANDO! “

“MATE, I SWEAR!”

They all collectively scolded the Spanish driver — prompting him to laugh and raise his hands in surrender

“Ok. So my friend thought that the guy that she liked was starting to like her back. But not a week later, the guy that she liked was rumored to have a girlfriend. And he started to avoid my friend…. This was 3 months ago by the way.” You finally finished your story, and now you look at their reactions

Fernando, Lewis, Nico, and Valterri had all fallen into thinking.

“So how long is the guy and the new girl going out? And how does your friend feel” the quiet Finnish driver gently asked you.

“Oh, officially for a few weeks, I guess? My friend felt hurt of course. But it gets less painful overtime… uh she said that to me”

“Oh. That’s good for your friend, liefjie! By the sound of it she slowly moving on” Nico uttered, a sense of comfort rushed through you

“How is your friend now, Is she feeling ok?” Lewis asked empathically

“ She’s great, and you’re right Nico. She slowly moving on.”

“So what’s the problem muñequita?”

“Well, another person had asked her out and she feels guilty because she doesn’t want to use him to get over the guy she likes” you explained to the 4 older drivers.

“WHO ASKED YOU OUT !? Young lady tell us this instance!” You didn’t expect Lewis’ outbursts — you expect Nando to react that way, but not Lewis!

“It’s not me!!” You tried to bluff once more

“Y/N, we know it’s you” Nico explained with a smile, while you pouted as they all chuckled.

“OK FINE! It’s me” You utter as you gave up the act.

“So I assume the guy you were talking about was Max, right?” Valtteri asked, finally speaking.

“I’m very obvious aren’t I?” You said defeated, as you stood up from your seat and wedged yourself beside Nico.

“Everyone with a pair of eyes knew something was between you and Max, “ Nando said as Valterri nodded in agreement.

“Young lady, you haven’t answered my question. Who asked you? Is it another driver?” Suddenly you felt like you were on the hot seat — as all their eyes focused on you with eyebrows raised. It felt like you were being questioned by your dad.

“Uhmm yes, it’s another driver… it’s Lando” You said as you picked on your nails. A shy smile graces your face.

“ He finally had the balls to ask huh?” Nando snickered

“What?? You also knew?!” You asked flabbergasted. You surveyed the room and saw all of them snickering amongst themselves.

“He did ask for my permission, sort of… it was just jumbled words that didn’t make sense then” Lewis explained as he visibly got less tense.

“Lando asked permission from you?? What are you, my dad?” You asked amused, come to think of it Lewis was sort of a father figure to you. Being that he always supported and guided you ever since the start of your journey in Formula 1

“Well, you sticking around me like a toddler in your first year here doesn’t help, sweetie.” Lewis could only laugh at the memories of him taking care of you. Memories like Lewis driving you around, giving you food, telling you to talk to others.

“And what are you guys? My uncles?” You asked the 3 drivers, who only shrugged and nodded.

“Well, should I say yes to Lando then?” You asked dropping all pretense and just laying it all out

“It wouldn’t hurt to try, Liefjie” Nico advised

“Yeah try something new, Dear. Max had his chance and he didn’t take it. So go have fun with Lando!” Fernando added, patting your hand.

You set your eyes on Valtteri — who only nodded his head with a smile.

“ You have our approval, and we’ll support your decision, sweetie! Do what will make you happy” Lewis said comfortingly

the.Y/N

liked by lewishamilton, landonorris , maxverstappen1, and 472,002 others

the.Y/N Apparently, @lewishamilton is my father?? I was only made notice now, ok I guess.

lewishamilton thank you for the flattering pictures , sweetie 🥲

the.Y/N oh no worries, pops! More to come I swear🤍

user1 Y/N please don’t dogshow the old man 😭

user2 HAHAHAHAAH I swear Y/N is a different breed

user3 Awwww! I always loved it when Lewis calls Y/N sweetie.

user4 The grid father and daughter pairing 🤍

landonorris Oh, You weren’t aware?

the.Y/N No, I was not :)) . I was made aware when someone asked for permission.

landonorris well glad to be of service

lewishamilton @landonorris get your act straight! I already approve

landonorris @lewishamilton will do my very best, sir. Thank you 🫡

the.Y/N I hate and love you both 😮‍💨

User1 Approve of what Sir Lewis?? Lando is approved for what??

mercedesamgf1 family photo with Roscoe when?

the.Y/N already have tons of it in the gallery 😛

You continued to scroll past your feed and Kelly’s post appeared …

kellypiquet

liked by maxvestappen1 and 638,073 others

kellypiquet Happiest when with you 💙

view all comments

maxverstappen1 💙

You knew that you shouldn’t feel jealousy or anger, but you couldn’t help but frown as you saw Max and Kelly acting all sweet. It still stung that you didn’t mean anything more to Max, all the memories you’ve made you’ve looked at rose-tinted, shattered.

So you strengthened your resolve and focused all your thoughts on your work. You then remembered that you had a date with Lando. You went back to your conversation a while ago

Then slowly, without noticing, a smile bloomed on your face at the thought of Lando Norris.

One date with Lando turned into two, two turned into three, then four and five.

the.Y/N

liked by landonorris, lewishamilton, charles_leclerc, fernandoalo_oficial, and 629,920 others

the.Y/N So much fun , laughs , and food 🧡 10/10 would do again!

charles_leclerc you aren’t sneaky with that orange heart y/n

the.y/n 🤷‍♀️🤷‍♀️🤷‍♀️

lewishamilton stay safe and go home early ~ i’m watching you two.

the.Y/N hehehe will do, promise

User1 Ms. Y/N are you seeing someone 🧐

the.Y/N I dunno~ maybeeee

User2 ok! Im invested. Who is it @the.Y/N?? Please spill

User2 this is so Lando Norris coded I swear.

User 6 I know!! Golf and karting? Could they be more obvious. Ughh I ship it🧡

User3 you look sooooooo pretty Y/N!! who ever’s dating , I hope they could fight . 😤

liked by landonorris

User3 LANDO NORRIS LIKED MY COMMENT??? HELLO?!

User4 Lando????!!

You were progressively forgetting your feelings for the Dutch Red Bull Driver . How can you not? When Lando Norris had been showering you with so much love and affection.

Then finally, Lando asked you to be his girlfriend. You said yes. You were ready to let someone else in your heart— and this time you were sure that there was someone to catch you when you fell.

your story close friends

viewed by landonorris , charles_leclerc, maxverstappen1 , and 35 others

story replies

charles_leclerc I made this couple 💪 It was all MEEEE.

landonorris 🧡🤍 someones getting bolder ey?

maxverstappen1 haha i’ve been replaced as your bestfriend 😂

landonorris story

viewed by the.Y/N , charles_leclerc , carlossainz55, maxverstappen1 , and 5,628,926 others

the.Y/N And I was bold? Ok soft launch ~ Kudos mr. Norris! I won’t go down without a fight tho 🫡

charles_leclerc someones being braveee

carlossainz55 Landino! Are you and y/n ready to share to the world then?

The two of you kept everything on the low, yet you didn’t keep it a secret — only very select few knew. Lando and you wanted to enjoy what you two had to yourselves first. Everyone outside your circle thought that the two of you were just friends.

But that didn’t stop either of you from posting online.

Max saw your posts and the feeling of something clawing in his stomach resurfaced. He didn’t like it one bit. It has been 2 months ever since he found out that Lando held feelings for you. And it has been a month since the two of you properly spoke. And if he were honest to himself, Max missed your presence dearly.

Kelly didn’t have anything in common with him. And most of the time, he grew bored and he just wanted to crawl back to his sim and drive constantly.

Max missed talking about everything and nothing with you. He missed how you shared his interests and how the two of you explored every one of them. Max just missed… You.

The longer he stared at his phone screen, the deeper his anxiety rose. He didn’t like what he saw, not one bit. He needed to do something about it.

***

You are lounging in your Boyfriend’s condo, dressed in a hoodie that you stole from his dresser. Soft music played on the centralized sound system.

Lando was inside his streaming room live on Twitch, while you made your way into his kitchen and started to cook dinner for the two of you. Lando did love your cooking.

Then suddenly your phone rang and to your surprise it was Max calling. Without any further thought, you picked up the call.

“Hello, Y/N?” You heard Max’s voice on the line, the usual butterflies present in your stomach were now absent. You didn’t feel the bubbling sensation you used to feel when Max unexpectedly called.

Then suddenly, you heard Lando shout nonsense, probably at his best mate. A smile grazed your lips as you heard your boyfriend’s shout in the distance.

“Oh, hi Max! What’s up?” You asked curiously, balancing your phone on your shoulders as you took out the ingredients from the fridge.

“Where are you, right now? No one’s answering the front door” Max’s reply startled you. Why is he at your house all of a sudden?

“What? You’re in my house… uh why?” You asked, a tone of confusion present in your voice

“It’s Wednesday, Movie night remember” You were filled with even more perplexity for the Red Bull driver. The two of you haven’t talked one one-on-one for nearly a month, not even through chat. Movie nights with Max were long forgotten.

“Max…. We haven’t had movie night in 3 months.” You replied carefully.

“Uhm, we can start again?” You sensed the hopelessness in his voice.

“I’m sorry Max, I’m at Lando’s right now… and I don’t think your girlfriend would appreciate it if we suddenly continued movie nights”

“You’re at Lando’s? Y/N its already la-”

“Max I think it’s best if we kept our distance… yeah?” You suddenly interjected, clearly stating your boundaries.

“What?! Why?” Max asked incredulously

“Max … you have a girlfriend! I don’t want to create any misunderstandings. And I don’t want Lando to have doubts … considering that I used to have feelings for you before. But we can still hang out … but in a group setting”

You didn’t mean to spill everything and tell Max of your past feelings for him, but you found yourself relieved of letting it out of your chest. Now you could truly say that you have moved on.

There was silence before Max had finally answered. “Oh… ok. I understand”

“Bye Max” At that you ended the call, leaving that part of your past behind.

The sound of the call ending echoed in Max’s head. The words you’ve said slowly dawned on him.

You liked him? Since when? Suddenly understanding and relief filled Max. He realized that he liked you more than just a sister. He didn’t look at you as just a friend. He suddenly understood the emotions that he was so afraid to explore before. What he felt for you was something so strong that it scared him. It wasn’t like what he felt when he was with Kelly, no. But with you, He felt vulnerable, He felt like everything was on the table because you understood him so well.

Then suddenly Max froze, as if cold water was dumped all over him. You said liked … past tensed. You didn’t like him anymore. Max was suddenly filled with dread, chest hurting as if tons of weight pressed on it.

He had his chances in making you his, and his alone. Max Verstappen maybe the fastest driver on the grid , but outside the track — he had failed to switch gears from making you from a friend to much much more. He had lost you and it was all his fault.

landonorris

liked by the.Y/N , mclaren, carlossainz55, lewishamilton, charles_leclerc , and 1,639,829 others

landonorris the world should see the forever view of my camera lens. Love you , stranger 🧡

tagged @the.Y/N

the.Y/N I love you more, stranger🧡

taglist: @spookystitchery @bibissparkles @newlifeforus @steamy-smokey @leah-also-known-as-creatoronwp @charizznorizz @evesfile @j-lesca @gr1mes-cc @ironmaiden1313

[subskz]

Hey, I’m glad you’re back!! I’m the anon who asked about the making skz squirt, if you could elaborate more on it I’d really appreciate that!! I’m sorry if the sound wierdly formal lol I don’t really know how to do asks hah😅

thank u babe it’s great to be back!! and no worries at all ur perfectly fine <3 i ended up writing lil drabbles abt chan, lix, n lino based on this ask!

chan (fingering, handjob, multiple orgasms)

Chan was panting. Mouth hanging open, spilling out drool with each labored breath. Chest heaving, glazed with a mix of his sweat and his seed. Each gulp of oxygen was barely enough to satiate him when all the blood in his system was rushing to his hypersensitive length. It left his brain foggy, filled with nothing but you. Your observant gaze setting his skin on fire, your sweet voice lulling him into orgasm after orgasm, your fingers curling methodically inside him, your hand working his cock with a careful grip and a merciless pace.

“Hah, f-fuck!” he choked out. “Oh, God…close, ‘m close.”

You tightened your grip around his cock just as you slid down to its hilt, squeezing it with a force that made his hips surge up. His stomach, splattered with load after load of his cum, clenched wildly as his high drew near once again. He’d lost track of how many times he’d finished already, he’d lost track of anything but the sound of your gentle whispers, promising that you just wanted one more from him. Just one more.

“Please—ah—gonna cum again. Can I? P-please, can I?”

You cooed out loud. Even now, he found a way to make your heart swell in your chest. You’d pushed him well past his usual limit by now—to the point where every muscle in his body was pulsing with exhaustion, to the point where you were surprised he still had anything left in his system each time his seed spurted out of him—and yet, here he was, still remembering to ask you for permission. If both your hands hadn’t been occupied, you would’ve reached out to cup his face affectionately, to run your thumbs over his flushed cheeks and steady the thrashing of his head.

“Got even more for me, Channie?” you murmured. “Such a little giver, aren’t you? You can cum, baby, let it all out.”

Chan keened, his dulcet voice now deliciously hoarse from how much he’d strained it, crying out louder and louder with every new climax he reached. He was far too dizzy to even think about holding it back anymore. You watched with gleaming eyes as he emptied onto his stomach yet again, cock twitching in your palm and walls fluttering around your fingers. There was noticeably less to his release this time, just a few, short ropes spilling from his swollen tip to form a pearly pool at his belly button.

“That’s it, good boy,” you encouraged him. “Look at all that. You’re working so hard for me, huh, angel?”

Your praises anchored him and sent him further into a daze all at once, amplifying each ripple of pleasure that passed through his body. Carefully, you unwrapped your hand from around his aching length to give him a chance to catch his breath, to find his way down from his high and back to you. It took nearly a minute of sharp gasps and shuddering exhales for him to finally find the strength to respond, nodding weakly up at you.

“Doing okay?” he rasped. “Good for you?”

“So good, Channie.” You reached out with your free hand to pet his head, brushing his sweat-soaked curls from his face, soothing the near-delirium creeping up on his consciousness. “My baby's so strong. Taking it all so well, pushing his pretty body to the limit for me.”

A sweet, shy hum built up in the back of Chan’s throat, the laziest of smiles tugging at his lips as he leaned into your hand. You stayed that way for a moment, letting him bask in a touch that—unlike everything else he’d felt for well over an hour—wasn’t designed to set his nerve-endings ablaze. Just as he let his guard down, nuzzling fully into your palm, he felt your other pair of fingers shift suddenly inside of him. Not to pull out completely, rather, to readjust, pressing back against his sweet spot with a fresh lather of lube. It made his breath hitch, and he blinked his eyes open in confusion when the comfort of your hand on his cheek was suddenly lost, pulling away to trail over his tummy instead.

You flattened your palm against it without warning, pressing down on his toned muscles, smearing around the blend of sweat and cum to create a sinful coating over his skin. A full-body shudder ran through him, stomach tightening and hips twisting under your touch. You watched him writhe around in the sheets, relishing in the contracting of his muscles, the stickiness of the fluids, how they painted his body like he was your own personal canvas. Dragging your fingers down the ridges of his abs, you scooped up a portion of his cum and brought your hand back to his length.

Chan hiccuped, shrinking away reflexively, still far too fragile to handle any kind of stimulation. You curled your fingers around him, unfazed as you spread his own seed along his cock.

"Wait—mmph—I thought," he squeaked. "I-I thought...you said—"

“I know, baby. But look how excited you still are.” You gave him a quick, single pump, and he jolted. "I think you’ve got a little more for me, yeah? Just one more, can you do that, Channie?"

A whine met your ears, so rife with desperation that it pooled fresh heat within you. "I..." he sucked in a sharp breath as you began to stroke him again, delicately running all the way down from the swollen head of his cock to its base, already feeling it begin to harden again in your palm. "O-oh, please."

"You’ll do it for me, right? Channie's such a good boy, I know you can take it.”

“M-mm. Good boy,” Chan repeated quietly, eyes going half-lidded, like the words were enough to pull him into a trance. “Yeah, ‘m a good boy. I can do it for you—ah—I’ll do anything.”

You pushed your fingers deeper inside of him and curled up into the tender flesh, purring in approval. “My good boy. My strong boy, always taking whatever I give him.” Your words of adoration paired with the drag of your hands washed his head clear of any concerns, each gentle praise giving him the energy he needed to keep going. “Gonna treat you so good for this, angel.”

He squeezed his eyes shut with a whimper, so overwhelmed by all the different sensations at play that he couldn’t find it in him to absorb his surroundings anymore, to process anything other than the relentless pleasure creeping back up on him. The warm friction of your fist engulfing his cock, the embarrassing squelching sounds that came with every pump—from the lube, from his own cum smearing all over his length—the fullness of your fingers burrowing inside of him. He was already so sensitive under normal circumstances, but now, after being drained over and over to his very last drop, his reactions were more heightened than ever. Every little touch was enough to make him feel like he might burst, sending him closer to the edge at an alarming rate.

Chan’s thighs tensed, teeth sinking into his lower lip to muffle a high-pitched moan as you rolled your palm along his dripping head at the very same instant the pads of your fingers teased his sweet spot.

“Oh, my gosh. Oh, God th-that’s—”

“Good?” you giggled. “You’re so easy, baby. Just a few touches and you’re ready to be used again. Bet I could play with you for the rest of the night if I wanted.”

He could only respond with a broken whine, not trusting himself to speak when his voice was sure to come out as a garbled mess. He clenched tightly around you as you repeated the action, sucking your slick fingers further inside of him, wordlessly begging for what he was too shy to say.

You gave an appreciative hum, admiring the way his spent body was still reacting so eagerly, so willing to endure it as many times as it might take to satisfy you. “Just like that, Channie. Keep it up, okay? Gonna milk my pretty boy dry.”

His mouth fell open again, face scrunching up as you curled over his prostate with more vigor, setting off another jolt of electricity through his veins. You swirled your thumb rhythmically around his slit for good measure, delighted by the way his hands flew out, releasing his death grip on the sheets in search of you.

“Ah, ah!” he gasped. “Gonna…‘m close, gettin’ close again!”

Chan’s features twisted into a look of pure desperation, eyes still sealed tight as he mindlessly grasped around for you. “Fuck, fuck, fuck, s’ good. Feels…f-feels…”

“Feels?” you echoed sweetly.

“Good, ngh…'s weird. Think s-something’s gonna—ah! Too much!”

His warning yelp caught you off guard, softening you with concern the moment you were able to properly make out what he was trying to say. But just as you prepared to pause and check on him, Chan’s hips surged up fiercely, lifting his back off the mattress in a movement that only pressed your fingers harder into the roof of his walls. His whole body stiffened, frozen in a mesmerizing arch.

A near-sob escaped him as his orgasm hit—somehow, harder and more all-consuming than any of his previous ones combined. It sent a shiver down your spine to hear the sound ring out shamelessly through the room. Somewhere in the back of Chan’s mind, he faintly registered that the filthy cry echoing in his ears was coming from him, but in that moment, he was far too preoccupied with the intensity of what he was experiencing to care. How the muscles in his abdomen spasmed completely out of his control, how the pleasure that seared through him was so euphoric that it was almost unbearable.

And he was wet. Not just from his perspiration, not just from all the cum you’d smeared on his skin; something thinner, warmer, wetter—and it was everywhere.

You watched in awe as his release shot out of him with a force you’d never seen before, clear fluid spraying all over his stomach, his chest, even reaching as far as his shoulders and neck. It dripped down his rosy cheeks, droplets falling from his tilted jaw and dribbling along the curve of his pecs. Chan seemed to realize midway through that there was definitely something abnormal about the sheer extremity of his climax, because his muscular thighs squeezed around you, trying frantically to close in on each other and put a stop to whatever was happening. His arms flew up to cross over his drenched chest, a weak attempt to hide away what was sure to be a humiliating sight.

When your eyes fell to his heaving stomach, catching sight of the streams traveling along his toned muscles, you felt your own core tighten with arousal. His walls pulsed around your fingers with each spurt, still clenching erratically even as the last few waves of his orgasm had passed through his weary body, like the strength of it was too much to be contained.

As tentatively as you could, you unwrapped your hand from around his cock, allowing it to fall limp against the puddle of fluids on his tummy. Chan’s labored breaths gradually began to even out, only interrupted by a soft, shaky whimper when you removed your fingers from the slippery heat of his hole.

“You made a mess,” you whispered.

Despite the exhaustion creeping up on his senses, Chan’s reaction was immediate. His hazy eyes snapped open, a fresh wave of humiliation washing over him as he processed the scene in front of him—the soiled bed, your dripping hand, the juices covering his stomach. He hadn’t thought it was possible for his body to feel any hotter, but the filthy sight instantly proved him wrong, engulfing him with shame.

“Oh my gosh,” he wailed, hands trembling as they came to cover his soaked face. “Oh my God, I’m sorry, ‘m so sorry.”

You ran your fingers along his thigh with a feather-light touch, careful not to overstimulate him any further. “Shh, don’t apologize, Channie. Look how well you did for me,” you soothed him. “You let it all out, just like a good boy should.”

He whimpered into his palms, unconvinced, completely and utterly mortified by the display he’d just put on for you. His body had never reacted like that before—he hadn’t even known it was possible for it to react like that.

“Th-this is so embarrassing. ‘M sorry,” he mumbled. Disoriented, he scrambled around in the wet sheets, trying to force himself upright. “I’ve n-never…oh my God. 'M so sorry, I’ll clean it up—”

“Easy, baby.” You reached out to rest your hand over his chest, feeling his heart pounding under your palm as you gently nudged him back against the mattress. “You’re exhausted. Lie down, let me take care of you.”

Despite Chan’s soft whine of protest, he didn't resist much before complying, falling back against the pillows with a heavy thump. With how fast his head was spinning, coupled with the way his limbs felt like they’d been reduced to jelly, he wasn’t even sure how he’d expected himself to stand, anyway.

Your weight lifted from the bed, leaving him weary in his own mess, still trying to get his breathing under control. His embarrassment didn't die down the entire time you were gone, nor did the adrenaline coursing through his veins. But when you returned with the gentle press of a washcloth against his skin, his muscles finally began to relax, replacing the hot shame in his skin with a comforting warmth.

"You really gave me everything, huh?" you marveled, dabbing tenderly at the fluids drying on his skin. "I'm so proud of you, baby."

Chan murmured something weakly in response, eyelids beginning to droop again as his fatigue from the past hour finally caught up to him. Even if you couldn't make out his slurred reply, you knew one thing for sure. When Chan said that he would do anything for you, he meant anything.

felix (mirror sex, handjob, overstimulation)

You could tell Felix was nervous. Stuck in his head, not entirely there with you.

His sounds came more restrained than usual—breathless moans cut short in his throat, like he couldn't allow himself to indulge for too long. His eyes were wide open and alert, a pair of dark, gleaming full moons, not daring to flutter shut and lean fully into the pleasure you were drawing out of him with each stroke. They flickered around between his reflection and the view of you curled around his body from behind. Legs draped over his thighs to hold them apart with your own, head peeking out from behind him to observe his every twitch and shiver, arms wrapped around his waist as you toyed with his cock.

He looked lost, like a bunny in the woods. Trapped, but still unsure whether he was in any danger or not. All he really knew was that he didn't want to escape.

He cursed under his breath as you picked up the pace of your pumps, a low, rumbling vocalization that added to the flutter of excitement in both your stomach and his. "How is it, Lixie?" You brought your lips close to his ear, brushing against its shell just enough to make goosebumps rise on the back of his neck.

"Ah, good." He furrowed his brows together, adorably concentrated. "Feels really good, th-thank you."

You let out another light puff of air, warm breath fanning over his skin, tickling his hair. "You're holding out on me,” you pouted. “Want me to stop?"

Felix clenched his jaw, stiffening against you. "N-no, please. I really want it. Don't stop touching me, please."

He panicked slightly as your hand slowed its steady pace, an unconvinced hum spilling directly from your lips into his ear, thickening the cloud of lust his mind. "What's got you so tense, angel? You're like a deer in headlights."

His gaze landed back on the sight of himself in the mirror; freckled skin dusted pink, adam’s apple bobbing in his throat, lean frame encased snugly with your limbs, but still so rigid. You rested your chin on his shoulder, following his wandering stare, and he nearly squeezed his thighs together when you both caught the sight of his cock, flushed red and throbbing in the cage of your fingers. You didn’t doubt that he would’ve closed his legs completely if yours weren’t prying them apart. Instead, he turned his head to the side; suddenly embarrassed.

“It’s cute,” you giggled, giving his length a playful squeeze. As if to prove your point, it jerked in your grasp, pulsing with another burst of arousal. “That’s not what you’re stressing about, is it, baby?”

Felix swallowed, your simple compliment adding to the coil tightening in his core more than it probably should’ve. “No,” he rasped quietly. “Just…ah. Just wanna make sure I can do this for you. What if I can’t?”

You dragged your fingers along the underside of his dick, taking satisfaction in the ripple you felt pass through his back muscles where they were pressed firmly against your chest. “If it doesn’t work, I still get to see my pretty boy cum,” you reasoned. “Worth it either way, right?”

It was his turn to giggle, quiet and sheepish. Still not fully relaxed, but he at least found the confidence to lift his timid gaze and meet yours in the mirror. His eyes were already so big, so keen, under normal circumstances, but now, blown wide with desire, they captivated you more than ever. Deceptively innocent. They’d shone the exact same way when he’d first asked if you could make this happen, like a curious kitten itching to explore uncharted territory.

He trusted you wholeheartedly to satisfy that curiosity, to work the ins and outs of his body better than he ever could and take him to heights that he could only dream of. He’d practically beamed when you’d agreed to it. So eager, so grateful. The desire was still there burning within him—stronger than ever, actually, when he could feel his high inch closer and closer each time your hand sank down on his cock. He just hadn’t anticipated the apprehension that his thoughts would create along with it. He didn’t want to disappoint you.

“Don’t think so hard about it, Lixie.” You pressed a soothing kiss to his temple. “Empty your cute little head and just focus on feeling good."

Felix let out a breath that he didn’t know he was holding, shoulders slumping slightly, fingers uncurling from their nervous grip on the sheets. With an obedient nod, he allowed himself to loosen up, spurred on by your other hand coming to drift gently down his abdomen, stroking his stomach muscles up and down in a hypnotic rhythm.

"I’ll take care of it all, make sure to make my baby cum just right.”

You pressed another kiss to his cheek as he tilted his head back to rest it on your shoulder, melting into you, toned back relaxing fully against the softness of your chest. Little by little, you peppered his face with calming pecks, relishing in the warmth of his skin, the race of his pulse under your lips. Each soft, wet pucker made his head spin a little more, and he cocked it obediently to the side when you trailed along his jawline down to his neck. Combined with the friction building up on his cock and the playful dancing of your fingers along his abs, it quickly became difficult for him to focus on anything else. Just as you’d coaxed him to do, he stopped thinking for himself.

His mouth fell open to spill out a breathy groan when you paused your pumping to focus on the tip of his cock instead. It was noticeably louder—sweeter without his teeth clamping down to suppress it this time. You curled your fingers around his swollen head, using the precum that had leaked out to add an intoxicating slickness to your movements.

Your eyes gleamed in the mirror, a purr of approval vibrating against Felix’s neck when his thighs jumped under yours, hips bucking into your hand in a plea for more.

“That’s my boy. See how nice it is to let go?” your tongue flicked out to glide carefully up his neck, making his length throb in your palm, harder this time. “I'm gonna make you feel so good, baby. You don't need to think for that."

The last of your words came out muffled as you sank your teeth hungrily into his skin, but Felix still absorbed each one, filling up the blank space in his mind. Your lips closed around his flesh to create a hot, delicious suction, and you had to push back a smile when you felt another shudder run through his body.

"Ah, please. ‘S good, g-gonna—”

He cut himself off with a sharp inhale as you rolled your palm around his leaking tip, stimulating every last nerve-ending with your sticky touch.

“Gonna cum for me?”

He gave a frantic nod, hips jerking up again to the best of their ability, chasing the warmth of your fist on pure instinct. But you kept it firmly wrapped around his head, concentrating solely on his most sensitive spot with expert rolls of your wrist to draw out his orgasm much faster and much more vigorously than he was used to. You swirled your tongue over the deep red ring you’d left on his neck, practically tasting the rapid beat of his his heart. That, coupled with the way you pressed down on his abdomen to keep him steady, sent him over the edge in a matter of seconds.

“Close, ‘m close,” he warned. “Fuck, p-please!”

He emptied into your palm with a choked moan, his low voice reverberating all around you and making your own heartrate spike. You dragged your teeth along his skin, amplifying his pleasure as his release shot out of him, coating your hand and dripping down his length.

“I’m not gonna stop,” you mumbled into his skin. “You want it, right? Want me to keep touching you ‘til you spray all over yourself?”

“Fuck, yes, please,” he gasped out. “Don’t stop, please. Ruin me—ngh—mess me up.”

You dragged your hand back down his cock’s base before the last wave of his climax had even passed, spreading the stickiness of his cum wherever your trailed and making him see stars. His voice cracked into a helpless squeak, having no chance to brace himself as you went right back to toying with his sore head. His hips writhed in a frenzy of overstimulation when you pressed your thumb against his slit, making his legs shoot up, thigh muscles contracting so fiercely that you couldn’t hold him down with your own this time.

Another chill ran up your spine as he threw his head back against your shoulder, bunny teeth digging into his bottom lip in weak attempt to hold in his string of curses.

“Gonna get you looking as filthy as your mind is, baby.” You pressed another sloppy kiss to his neck, dragging your lips over his throat as it bobbed with each heavy breath. “C’mon, I know you can do it. Spill it all out for me like a good boy.”

“M-mmph, please,” he whined. It was high-pitched and broken, so different from his usual rich baritone, you had trouble believing the words had come from him for a moment. The initial relief of his climax soon morphed into something more overwhelming, something much less bearable. A painful pang began to accompany each stroke of your hand, but the way it contrasted the nonstop flow of pleasure only pushed him further into bliss. “H-hurts. Hah, hurts s’ good. Please, more.”

You strengthened your grip with a playful click of your tongue as Felix began to squirm around more uncontrollably, his body crying out in protest of what his mind ordered him to do. It was too much and not enough all at once. Every cell in his body said that he couldn’t take any more, but at the same time, he needed it. He needed to feel more than he could bear.

The pleasure of his orgasm never fully ebbed, it only intensified, stretching out into a constant, throbbing ache the more you tortured his cock. There was no gradual build into it this time, no tension tightening little by little in his gut. Just a few more circles drawn into his wet tip, and something ignited deep within him, snapping the final thread.

He couldn’t even think to warn you before it happened, not when he himself wasn’t prepared for the surge of pleasure that burst in his abdomen. It rippled all throughout his stomach and inner thighs, spreading a dizzying heat and making his body thrash under your touch. A sound unlike any you’d ever heard him make before rang out around you. It was a near-shout, oddly cute and shaking pitifully each time he spasmed against you. Your eyes locked on his reflection just in time to see the fluid squirting from his cock, so powerful that it shot past where your thumb was pressed over his slit and spurted into the air.

The moment Felix felt his release splatter against his bare skin, his eyes snapped open, dark and wide, shining with wonder as he took in the sight of himself spraying all over his chest and stomach. The liquid covered your hand completely, dribbling down his pecs and clenching abdomen, splashing on his thighs and soaking into the bed underneath you.

You pressed kisses into his neck without taking your eyes off the mesmerizing display in the mirror, drinking in the roll of his eyes and the hot, red flush that crept up on his skin. He stiffened one last time, emptying the final wave of his release, then collapsed heavily against your chest.

His taut muscles went limp as he tried to catch his breath, a lazy, lopsided smile forming on his face and spilling a trickle of drool from his parted lips.

“Look at you, baby,” you crooned. “You did it.”

You let go of his softening length at last, dragging your soaked hands delicately over his tummy in an effort to wipe them clean. But practically every inch of his skin was dripping with something, and smearing your palms over his skin only added to the sticky mess coating them. Felix stayed panting without a word, eyes hazy and unfocused in the mirror, still smiling like he was lost in a dream.

He nestled into your hand the moment you reached up to run your fingers through his hair, wiping away the beads of sweat that had accumulated. “Are you with me, Lixie?”

“Mmm.” He shifted under your legs with a soft grunt, trying to twist his exhausted body to face you properly. Instead, he slumped uselessly back against you, with so much force that you nearly toppled into the mattress together.

“How are you feeling?” You gave the crown of his head an affectionate tap, and you might’ve sworn it echoed around in his empty mind.

“Nn…” he slurred something incoherent, ending it with ditzy giggle. “You…s’good.”

Fondness made you break out into a smile. You unwrapped your limbs from around him just long enough to help adjust his position, nudging him around so he could fall fully into you, chest to chest. You suppressed a shiver as you felt the fluid that coated his skin begin to seep through your shirt. But neither of you had it in you to care about the mess, not when Felix was still barely floating on the edge of awareness and you were too preoccupied with bringing him back down to earth. He nuzzled into your neck with another fit of giggles, wrapping his arms and legs around you in a grip that was surprisingly tight given how far-gone he was.

“Did it. I did it,” he mumbled through his laughter, airy and uncontrollable, shaking his shoulders with delight. “You touch me so good. Make me feel s’ good.”

You hummed, half-amused, half-endeared as you rested your hand on the back of his head to draw him closer to you. “Cause you deserve it, baby. A good boy like you deserves to feel so good.”

His puffs of laughter faded into a sweet sigh when you pressed a kiss to his hair. It eased your mind a bit that he was at least grounded enough to mirror the action, puckering his lips against the skin of your neck, warm and wet with drool that he tried feebly to suck back into his mouth.

“S’good,” he repeated. His voice was drowsy, sounding mere seconds away from drifting off completely. But even the exhaustion creeping up on his senses couldn’t block out the words that always came.

“Love you.”

lino (pegging, edging, slight feminization)

Minho’s cry was like music to your ears, honey voice tinged with a frustrated rasp as you halted your movements yet again, just seconds away from finally sending him over the edge. His body barely processed the sudden loss of stimulation, cock twitching eagerly against his stomach, like it was expecting to be granted release any moment now.

But it never came. Just another few pitiful drops of precum dripping from his swollen head, forming a sticky puddle on his skin. It delighted you just as much as it drove him crazy.

“A-ah, again?” he whimpered. His hands grasped at the bedsheets in a fit of distress, clawing for purchase to try and press his body further down against your strap. “No, no, no. Why?”

You cooed, watching with an amused smile as he began to grind his hips in an unsteady rhythm, thick thighs squeezing around you, desperate to cling to the remnants of pleasure that were quickly escaping him.

“Putting in work, Lino? Maybe I should keep this up.”

“Not fair, ‘s not fair.” He gave a shaky roll of his body with the hopes of gaining some kind of friction, but it only resulted in another helpless grunt when he couldn’t hit his sweet spot properly. “I didn’t do anything. Why are you being so mean?”

“Quit whining.” You gripped his rocking hips, digging your fingers into his soft flesh to pin him to the mattress. “I just can’t get enough of you, right? So obsessed with my baby that I wanna fuck him for as long as I can.”

The excuse was sickeningly sweet, and even with Minho’s head in a haze, he could hear your taunt in it; throwing his own words back at him. He’d only been teasing you when he’d said them. It wasn’t fair.

“Then don’ stop anymore,” he slurred. “Make me cum over ‘n over, just…j-just lemme…”

He trailed off with another miserable whine, shutting himself up just in time to suppress the plea was building on his tongue. The corners of his lips curled into an irresistible pout as he squirmed restlessly under your hands, aching for even the slightest bit of movement on your part to keep him from losing his last shred of sanity.

“Oh, baby. We both know you couldn’t handle that,” you frowned down at him, a perfect mockery of the pout he was shooting you. Bit by bit, agonizingly slow, you began to pull out, feeling his stomach expand under your palms as he sucked in a sharp breath. “You haven’t even cum once and you can barely speak.”

He hated how the glide of your hips immediately proved your point, fizzling out any response that he scrambled to muster up. Even more than that, he hated how ready he was to accept it. He didn’t want to talk back anymore. It was too hard, too much work. All he wanted was to feel that delicious stretch again, over and over, to be filled to the brim with you. All he wanted was you.

Once you’d eased out so he was left twitching around nothing but the tip of your strap, you surged forward, burrowing back into him all at once. Minho’s whole body jolted, back arching and a gasp tearing from his lips. He was grateful you couldn’t feel just how desperately he was clenching around you, walls tightening around your strap to bask in every inch of it pressed against him.

“It’ll feel even better this way, okay? Promise. All you have to do is lie there and look pretty for me.”

You repeated the action, dragging your hips back leisurely, just enough to earn an impatient whine, then pushing in all the way to the hilt with even more force than before. His eyes shot open as you pressed against his weakest spot, locking on you with a stare so deep, so hungry, that you nearly faltered. He raised his trembling thighs little by little, hooking them properly around your waist to pull you in deeper.

“You—ah—you think ‘m pretty?” he managed a grin. It was lazy, lopsided, the look of someone who knew the answer full well, but still needed to hear it. You’d be lying if you said the sight didn’t make your heart skip a beat.

“Mm.” You brought a hand to his face, brushing his damp bangs out of his eyes, giving you a full view of just how glazed with desire they’d become. “Pretty enough to put up with.” You moved down his cheeks, trailing over the flushed skin with a care that contrasted your quickening thrusts. “Pretty enough to fuck you so good, even when you don’t deserve it.”

Your fingers rubbed over his glossy lips, tracing their shape, swiping up the saliva that had dribbled out when he spoke. You were surprised he even had any words left in him. By now, he’d usually know nothing but the one he dreaded most, spilling out of him after all the stubbornness had effectively been fucked out of his system. Denying him just a few times was all it took to get him babbling it over and over, apologizing for what he’d done and demanding in the sweetest voice for you to stop being so mean and just give it to him already. Please, please, please.

But Minho was right. Today, he hadn’t done anything wrong, certainly nothing to warrant being edged more times than his foggy mind could count. It was just fun for you to watch him fall apart. His patience had crumbled long ago, and his pride was following suit.

“Gimme, then. Wanna—hah—wanna feel good already,” he demanded weakly. “You think ‘m prettiest like that, right? I know you wanna see me c-cum.”

You gave an especially hard rock of your hips, making Minho’s mouth fall wide open, head tilting back to sink into the pillows. His eyes fluttered shut again when you pushed two of your fingers into his mouth, pressing down on his tongue. He sighed softly, a sound of pure relief, plush lips wrapping around the digits instantly and coating them with hot saliva.

“I think you’re prettiest like this,” you murmured. “With your fussy mouth full, taking whatever I give you like a good boy.”

Good boy. It made him shiver. Something he so rarely heard you call him; he couldn't deny how much he craved it, even when he did everything in his power to convince you otherwise. He didn't want to act like a good boy, but he wanted to be treated like one.

Matching the pace of your rocking hips, you began to pump your fingers in and out of his mouth. They glided along his slick tongue and grazed against his bunny teeth, earning a cute, muffled mewl each time you pushed all the way in, right down to your knuckles. The look on Minho’s face was one of pure bliss as he drooled around them, the kind of look you only saw his delicate features form when he was completely full of you, both in body and mind.

“There we go. So much cuter when you’ve got nothing to say,” you purred. “Keep sucking like that, and maybe I’ll give you what you want so bad.”

You adjusted the angle of your hips to snap forward deliberately sharper, brushing the tip of your strap against his prostate and making his stomach twist with pleasure. All at once, that familiar ache made its presence known again. If the way Minho all but sank his teeth into your flesh wasn’t enough to warn you that he was getting close, his choked moan surely was. It rumbled against your fingers, coating them with a fresh layer of spit that sent a chill up your spine.

His hands grasped at the bedsheets in a death grip, veins protruding up his forearms, ankles locking behind you to keep his shaky legs in place. Instead of continuing to pull all the way out of him, you alternated to more shallow thrusts, repeatedly grinding against his sweet spot with barely a moment for him to recover between each jolt of electricity it sent through his senses. You teased his tongue rhythmically with the pads of your fingers, admiring the sinful sight to your heart’s content when his eyes were too busy squeezing shut to glare up at you.

Minho clamped down around you suddenly, so tight that it took extra effort for you to pull out even a little bit. A garbled noise rose in his throat, and it took you a moment to realize that he was trying to say something. You dragged your fingers out of his mouth, much to his discontent, thick strings of drool connecting them to his lips.

“What is it, baby?”

He sucked in a deep breath, swallowing down all the saliva that had pooled in his mouth. “S-say it. Say it again.”

You pulled out inch by inch. “Hm?”

“Call me g’boy,” he whined. “Wan—mmph. Wanna hear you say it again.”

A mischievous smile tugged at your lips just as Minho’s eyes blinked open. You hesitated before indulging him, and that, coupled with your strap remaining motionless halfway inside him, had him writhing around frantically in no time.

“You gotta be a good boy for me to call you one, right? Say please, Lino.”

It was his turn to hesitate, eyebrows furrowing into a desperate scowl. He held back for a split-second too long, gasping pathetically as you rammed back against his prostate.

“Quick baby, before you get too dumb to speak anymore.”

“Ah, please,” he didn’t waste a moment this time before begging. The word was pure honey on his tongue, growing more desperate as you drew your hips back again. “Please, please. Call me g-good boy. Wan’ cum.”

With a hum of approval, you brought your hand, still slick with his spit, down to his cock. You surged back inside him just as you began rubbing your thumb around his head in rapid circles, smearing his precum around and making his brain go haywire.

“Cum for me like a good girl.”

Minho’s entire body went hot. He tensed up beneath you, legs stiffening around your waist, hands bunching the sheets with so much force that his nails dug into the mattress. White, searing pleasure overtook him, rippling through his nerve-endings straight to his cock. It pulsed in your hand, shooting out a stream of fluid that was far more powerful than either of you were used to. Your noise of surprise was completely drowned out by the broken cry he released, sweet voice shaking with every shock of pleasure that passed through him, spraying more fluid all over your skin and his.

You admired each spurt that spilled past your fingers, tilting his length so that his release splashed against his heaving stomach. Minho seemed to notice, vaguely, that something was very much off about the extremity of his climax and the way it was thoroughly drenching his body with some unfamiliar substance. But his jaw had gone slack, unable to get out anything but moan after pitiful moan. He couldn’t even find it in him to open his eyes and process what was going on.

Finally, the last few drops of liquid dribbled from his slit, trickling down his length as it fell limp against his tummy. He was left trembling in the aftershocks, mouth still hanging open, like he’d forgotten how to close it.

You waited until his panting died down into more peaceful breaths, and then you spoke.

“Minho,” you whispered, running your hands gently up his drenched sides. He shuddered under your touch as you pulled out of him, still hypersensitive from the orgasm that had just rocked him to his very core. “Are you okay?”

He could only grunt in response, a reluctant, flustered sound in the back of his throat. Tentatively, you unlatched his spent thighs from around you and rested them against the mattress to allow him to relax his muscles. The cool, wet sensation spreading in the sheets beneath him made his skin burn impossibly hotter, and he turned his head to the side, giving you a clear view of his red ears.

“Talk to me, baby, can you do that?”

Minho softened a bit as your hand came to brush over his flushed cheek, just below where his long lashes rested. Still, the shame consuming his mind was nowhere near ebbing—shame from his embarrassing lack of control over his own body, and on top of that, shame that he’d loved every bit of it. He kept his eyes stubbornly sealed shut and his head turned away, not trusting himself to look at you without crumbling instantly.

“M fine,” he mumbled. Quiet, demure, nothing like the filthy sounds that had been spilling from his mouth minutes ago. “Just…”

“Shy?”

He hesitated, then nodded into the pillow, slick thighs rubbing together over the mere memory of what had just happened.

“You're simpler than I thought,” you teased. “Is that all it takes for you to listen? Just gotta tell you to do it like a good girl?”

A low groan escaped him, and you might’ve thought it was purely out of annoyance if it weren’t for the way his cock twitched at the words all over again. “Seriously,” his voice rose into a dramatic whine. “What are you doing to me? 'M all messed up.”

You shushed his fussing with a drag of your index finger along his lower lip. Before he could take it between his teeth like you knew he would, you used it to take hold of his chin instead, tilting his face carefully back into view.

"What's the problem?" you murmured. “You're prettiest like this.”

[0omillo0]

MODEL! HYUNJIN X FEM! MODEL! READER

autor’s note: hi! this is my first post, I hope you’ll like it!

warnings: none!! pure fluff

Hyunjin, a renowned Versace model and gifted artist, has grown used to the fast-paced world of fashion. But when Y/N, a new model, steps into the scene, her authenticity catches his eye. As their paths intertwine, Hyunjin finds himself drawn not just to her beauty, but to something deeper—especially when he discovers a personal connection to his art in her life.

The lights above the runway glowed bright as you walked, your heart racing with every step. It was your first major show—Versace, no less—and the pressure of the fashion world felt like it was resting squarely on your shoulders. You kept your face composed, though. It was the life you had chosen, after all.

As you reached the end of the runway and struck your final pose, you caught a glimpse of someone standing backstage. Hwang Hyunjin. A name you had heard whispered many times, both in the modeling industry and beyond. He was already legendary as a Versace model—and as an artist. He stood with that ethereal grace, watching the runway with a calm confidence. His aura drew you in instantly.

Backstage, the models buzzed with excitement, but you found yourself scanning the room for Hyunjin. You weren’t sure why—maybe it was the effortless way he carried himself, or the way his expressive eyes seemed to speak without words. But there he was, standing near a rack of designer outfits, quietly sketching in a notebook.

He must have felt your gaze, because his eyes lifted from the page and met yours.

You blinked and quickly turned away, embarrassed to have been caught staring.

A moment later, you heard a voice behind you. “Nervous?”

Turning, you found yourself face-to-face with Hyunjin. His smile was small but warm, and it made your heart stutter. “A little,” you admitted, forcing yourself to breathe.

“You didn’t show it out there. You looked great.”

Your cheeks flushed. “Thanks. I wasn’t sure if I would survive that.”

He chuckled, his laughter soft and genuine. “We all feel that way at first. Trust me.”

You nodded, trying to keep your cool. “You were sketching something?”

“Oh,” he glanced down at the notebook in his hand, almost shyly, “yeah, just passing time. It’s nothing.”

“I bet it’s beautiful,” you said without thinking. His sketches were famous—everyone knew Hyunjin wasn’t just a model but an incredible artist. His works sold out faster than any runway show.

Hyunjin raised an eyebrow at your comment, looking a little surprised, but his smile grew just a bit wider. “Maybe one day you’ll see for yourself.”

---

Days turned into weeks, and as more Versace events brought you together, you and Hyunjin grew closer. What began as polite conversations evolved into genuine exchanges—talks about art, fashion, and life beyond the glitz and glamor. He was different from the others. Though he was breathtaking in every way, Hyunjin never acted like it. Instead, he carried himself with a quiet humility, a soul deeper than the world around him realized.

One evening, after a long day of fittings, you sat backstage, scrolling through your phone to relax. Hyunjin approached, as he often did these days, and sat beside you. His presence had become comforting.

"What are you looking at?" he asked curiously.

"Oh, nothing special," you said, not thinking much of it as you showed him your phone. But his eyes widened slightly when he saw your lock screen.

It was one of his paintings—a swirling combination of colors and emotion that you had seen in an exhibition once. You loved how raw and alive it felt, and you had put it as your wallpaper without realizing Hyunjin might ever see it.

"That’s... my painting," he said softly, his voice almost touched with disbelief.

You felt a sudden rush of heat rise to your face. "Oh my god, I—yeah, it is. I didn’t think you'd—uh, I really loved it. It just felt so... powerful. I hope that's not weird."

He stared at the screen for a long moment before meeting your eyes. His usual calm demeanor had shifted, and for the first time, you saw something vulnerable in his expression.

"It’s not weird," he murmured, his voice lower than usual. "It’s... actually really special."

His hand brushed against yours as he handed your phone back, and neither of you moved away. The air between you seemed to thicken with something unspoken.

"You know," Hyunjin began, his gaze dropping for a second before looking back up, "people don’t usually talk about my art like that. They just think of me as a model."

"I don’t," you said softly. "I think you’re an incredible artist."

Hyunjin looked at you like you had said something life-changing. His hand stayed close to yours, and you felt a magnetic pull between you, as if something deeper had just clicked into place.

"Thank you, Y/N," he whispered, his voice almost fragile. "I didn’t realize how much I needed to hear that."

---

As weeks passed, the connection between you and Hyunjin only deepened. The fashion shows continued, the flashing lights, the crowds, the interviews—but somehow, when you were with him, it all faded into the background.

He would seek you out between shoots, and you found yourself drawn to him in ways you couldn’t explain. His attention to detail, the way he viewed the world through an artistic lens, the kindness in his words—it made your heart race every time you saw him.

One evening, after a long day of rehearsals, the two of you found yourselves alone in the studio. Hyunjin was working on a painting in the corner while you sat nearby, watching him with quiet admiration. He glanced at you every so often, his eyes soft.

"Can I ask you something?" he said, breaking the silence.

"Of course."

"Why my painting?" he asked, his voice careful, but curious. "Out of all the art you could’ve chosen, why mine?"

You thought for a moment before answering. "Because it felt real. When I saw it, I felt something… like it was a piece of your soul. It wasn’t just a pretty picture—it had emotion, depth. I could see you in it."

Hyunjin stared at you for a long moment, something intense flickering in his gaze. He set his brush down and took a slow step closer.

"You saw me in it?" he repeated, his voice softer now, almost vulnerable.

"Yeah," you nodded, holding his gaze. "I did."

Hyunjin's breath hitched, and in that moment, something shifted between you. He reached out, gently taking your hand. His touch was warm, and his thumb brushed over your skin as if testing whether this was real.

"I see you too, Y/N," he whispered, his voice trembling with emotion. "More than you know."

You stared up at him, your heart pounding as he stepped closer. His face was inches from yours now, his gaze flickering down to your lips before meeting your eyes again. And in that quiet space, where words seemed unnecessary, Hyunjin leaned in, capturing your lips in a soft, lingering kiss.

The world faded away, and for a moment, there was only the two of you—two artists, two souls, finding each other in the midst of the chaos.

———

I hope you enjoyed this story! Requests are open!!