#this is a genuine question i’m so confused

[luvst4rc0r3]

SHE IS SO ADORABLE WHEN SHE IS MAD

Anyways here’s a Sevika x agegap!reader

WC:586

Okay, so Sevika genuinely has no idea how you two ended up together. Like, she’s the definition of calm, brooding, and calculated, while you’re… you. A hurricane of energy, chaos, and jokes that don’t even make sense half the time.

The first time you made a joke, Sevika just stared at you like you’d grown a second head. You were probably sitting at her usual spot in The Last Drop, grinning like a lunatic.

“Hey, Sev, why did the scarecrow win an award?”

Dead silence. She didn’t even look up from her drink.

“…Because he was outstanding in his field!”

Her only reaction was a slow exhale through her nose as she took another sip of her drink. She didn’t laugh, didn’t even acknowledge the joke. You pouted for a solid five minutes until she rolled her eyes and said, “It wasn’t funny.” But she was smirking a little, so you counted it as a win.

You make jokes constantly. Some are bad puns, others are absolutely unhinged, and Sevika doesn’t get any of them. You tried to explain sarcasm to her once, and it ended with you laughing so hard you couldn’t breathe while she just… stared at you in confused judgment.

“Why would you say something you don’t actually mean? That’s… dumb.”

“No, Sev, that’s the joke!”

“I think your brain is broken.”

She’ll never admit it, but she secretly finds your jokes endearing. Like, yeah, they don’t make sense, but the way your face lights up when you deliver the punchline? She could watch that forever.

You love poking at her stoicism just to see if you can get her to crack. One time, you randomly blurted out, “Hey, Sevika, do you think fish ever get thirsty?”

She looked at you like you’d lost your mind. “What?”

“Fish. Do they get thirsty? Like, how does that even work?”

Her hand immediately came up to pinch the bridge of her nose. “I am not doing this with you right now.”

But the thing is, no matter how chaotic or nonsensical you are, Sevika always has your back. She’ll grumble and call you reckless, but if anyone so much as looks at you the wrong way, she’s already rolling up her sleeves (or flexing her metal arm) like, “You got a problem?”

One time, someone actually laughed at your joke before Sevika did, and you milked it for weeks.

“See, Sev, they get my humor. Maybe I should just date them instead—”

“Don’t even joke about that.” She said it so seriously that you immediately shut up… before teasing her about being jealous five minutes later.

Despite her endless teasing, Sevika has soft moments where she shows she cares. You’ll be bouncing off the walls, rambling about some dumb idea you had, and she’ll just sit there, watching you with this look in her eyes. Like, yeah, you’re exhausting, but you’re her brand of exhausting.

“You’re ridiculous,” she mutters, pulling you into her lap and resting her chin on your shoulder.

“But you love me,” you say, smirking.

“Unfortunately.” But she kisses your temple anyways

Let’s be real-Sevika doesn’t get your jokes, but she loves you. Your energy might drive her insane, but it’s also what makes her feel alive. And if that means putting up with your ridiculous puns and weird questions, so be it.

In the end, Sevika’s your grumpy rock, and you’re her chaotic sunshine. She’ll roll her eyes and sigh, but deep down, she wouldn’t have it any other way.

I’m going to probably write a pt.2 to this

i want to be her age gap gf with too much energy that make jokes that r immature asf or that she doesn’t understand. like ik her ass would be making this face multiple times a day

she’s just too cute when she’s annoyed 😭

[dollarbils]

nothing like your tattoos | b.eilish

billie eilish x fem!reader

context. when you spend the night together, billie never fails to leave in a hurry.

warnings. angst, kind of suggestive, little bit of fluff (this is SO dramatic i’m sorry 🤧) not proof read

masterlist

her skin was sweaty as you traced her tattoos, baby hairs sticking to her forehead, and her chest beating up and down, to the softening rhythm of her breath, reminding you of previous events.

“okay, i gotta go baby, that alright?” even though she spoke as if it was, it wasn’t a question. but regardless, she made no attempt to move, no effort to escape your grasp.

“what do you think about me?” she raised her eyebrows, clearly confused.

“what do you mean?” riddled with your words, she awaited clarification. but when you didn’t speak, she grew worried.

“baby? what’s wrong?” her genuine concern never failed to fool you, trick you into believing her words of comfort. but the result was always the same. her absence.

“what am i to you?” she clearly didn’t like the sound of that question. unsure of its proper answer and naturally, of a response that would satisfy you.

“why would you ask me that?” disappointment spread across your features, unmistakably.

“you’re nothing like your tattoos.” she seemed amused now, puzzled by your misleading words.

“what do you mean?” she turned to look at you, careful not to move her hand as you traced the fairies that littered it.

“there’s nothing permanent about you.” her expression faded, a sense of sadness taking place instead.

“hey,” she caressed your face before speaking, demanding your attention, “i’ll stay, if you want me to.” and you knew it was honest. she would, she’d do it for you, but never of her own accord.

“that’s not what i want.” you sat up, and out of her grasp as she followed.

“then what do you want?” the question was too complicated for a simple response.

“i want you to want me.” her breath hitched slightly, almost faint enough to miss.

“i do want you.” she brought her hand to your face in attempt to comfort you. but her words were empty, meaningless. because she was never clear about her true feelings behind them.

“no you don’t, not really. i’m just a good fuck to you.” you said it like you were disgusted, disappointed in yourself for letting it get this far.

“good? don’t underestimate yourself babe, you’re a whole lot more than good.” a hint of humour could be found in her tone but it wasn’t amusing. not to you, not under the circumstances.

“billie, that’s not the point.” your saddened expression gave her the hint that the humour was misplaced.

“sorry, i just- i guess i just don’t know what you want from me.” she was lying through her teeth, fully aware of what you desired.

“oh please! you know exactly what i’m talking about.” she looked away for a second, taking a moment to think.

“i’m just not one for relationships. it’s too much for me.” she rubbed your cheek with her thumb, sending a river of mixed signals and emotions.

“well this,” you gestured between the two of you, “it’s too little for me. i can’t do this with you anymore.” you made a move to get up, shifting away from her, but she pulled you back by the arm.

“wait, no. i can’t lose you.” she seemed surprised by her own words, as if it was more of a reflex rather than a conscious expression of her feelings.

“that’s tough then, billie. because you’re not even willing to try.” when she didn’t say anything, nothing to confirm nor deny, you grew frustrated.

“whatever bils, I’m sorry i can’t keep this up. but it just hurts too much.” her eyes were teary when you turned away from her, your own tears now spilling down your face.

“i can’t promise permanence but i can promise you i’ll try.” she said it all at once, a desperate plea. you almost didn’t catch her words.

“what?” you turned around to look at her. her eyes were big, her lips plump. it was so hard not to fall in love with her.

“i just want to be with you. i don’t care how, i just need you in my life.” she chewed on her lip, a physical expression of her stomach churning out of anticipation.

“really?” your emotions neared disbelief. not quite sure if anything was real.

“yeah. please let me stay. i want to stay.” you nodded and she kissed you like you were hers. she kissed you like she wanted the feeling tattooed on to her lips forever.

taglist @adinda-eilish @ijustlovemaths @sweetcherriexs @jaxon-nathaniel-drake @mybluebossanova @diceroll65 @tothediner @st0nerlesb0 @bilssturns

[cherrysolo]

PLEASE RE UPLOAD THE smut fic i cant find it anywhere

omfg t*mblr deleted it.. but anyways here it is! hope u enjoy <3

this is my first time writing smut so bare with me <3 I typically write more fluff but I’m so happy to step out of my comfort zone (writing wise) for u guys! (also this request reminded me of that one p clip going around of that dude who looks like lu… anywho!)

“I want to please you” luigi looked up at you with his brown doe eyes, placing kisses across your chest, “is that okay?” breathing heavy, looking down at your best friend, you think back, how did you end up here?

you and luigi had been best friends since high school, following each other to upenn. you both made a pact that if 6 months into college either you didn’t loose their virginity, you would loose it to each other.

one january evening you decide to show up to luigi’s dorm, already planning what you were going to say to him.

“hey y/n,” he shyly smiles as he opens the door.

you barge into his dorm shocking him a bit.

“lu, I think we need to get this over with tonight,” you say, but your eyes not meeting his.

“what do you mean? everything okay?” he asks, genuinely confused, searching your eyes to see what could be wrong.

“I know it hasn’t even been six months, but I’ve thought about this a lot. I want you, I trust you.” you say slightly louder than a whisper, feeling embarrassed. luigi nearly starts choking, his breath hitching from shock.

“oh. I wasn’t expecting that, are you sure?” he questions, grabbing your forearm for reassurance.

“I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life,” you finally making eye contact with him. both of your faces blushing red, you already feel the room getting hot. a mix of emotions fills your mind, you’ve always had a crush on luigi. you could never admit to those feelings because you didn’t think he’d ever feel the same, but he does. luigi’s mind is racing with thoughts. not even sure of what to expect, he thought this pact was a drunken joke to you, but both of you were as serious as ever.

you both take a seat on his bed and sit side by side. an awkward yet thrilling tension filled the room, both of you have never felt this before. luigi moves closer and grabs your hand, “y/n, just so you know I don’t want you to feel uncomfortable at all. we don’t have to do anything you don’t want to,” he assures you. you look over at him, “I want this, I want you. all of you,” there’s a need in your voice that has never been there before, a mix of excitement and wanting.

luigi places a hand on your shoulder and asks “is this okay?” while slowly rubbing his hand down your arm. you nodded, unable to speak due to anticipation. his eyes looking directly in yours, searching your face for any regrets. he slowly moves his hand to your cheek and gently rubs his thumb back and forth. he sighs and leans in slowly, you press your lips to his. the kiss is more than peck, its soft and wondering. speeding up, the kisses become more passionate and rushed. he begins to move his hands up your neck and to your hair, tugging gently. you gasp in pleasure, luigi slyly smirks and returns to kissing you. he flips himself on top of you to gain control, pushing you down into the mattress. you have never been so close to one another, but now that you have started, you’re addicted. his hands begin wandering on your back and begins to lift up your shirt, letting it fall to the floor. “god, you’re so beautiful,” he whispers, as his eyes flicker across your chest covered in a lacy bralette. his hands begin exploring your body, caressing and gently kissing across your chest. he cups one of your breasts, gently massaging the flesh. “oh, lu,” you moan, not knowing to do with all the pleasure. you begin to slide your hands up to remove his shirt, “it’s not fair, let me see you,” you giggle against him. he shivers at the contact of your hands exploring his bare chest, groaning into another kiss. you moan into him and his hips move forward. you both groan in unison, feeling how hard he is. you flip yourself over so that you’re now straddling him, grinding down on his hard cock. “god, you don’t know how many nights I’ve dreamed of this,” he groans out. “don’t try and flatter me lu, we both know the deal,” you mutter. he grinds up into you, causing you to moan loudly. he begins to plant kisses down your neck leaving marks, he makes his way down to your breasts again to look up at you. “may i?” he raises his eyebrows at you, unclasping your bra. the cold air rushes to your hardening nipples, making you shiver. his thumbs toying with your breasts, trying his best to learn how to please you. he leans down and takes one of your nipples in his mouth, sucking gently. you moan, tangling your fingers in his curls. “god, luigi, are you sure you’re not a virgin?” you ask breathless. he chuckles, moving his hands down to squeeze your ass. he smiles gently at you, while his hands roam across your backside. he begins to tug at your pants, signalling he wants them off. you desperately move your hips so that you can get rid of another barrier, his gaze intensely on you.

“fuck, y/n, you’re perfect,” he murmurs looking at your bare skin on display only for him. “can I touch you?” he asks full of need and affection, you arch into him and his fingers dip into your underwear. “baby, you’re soaked,” he moans, as he begins gently rubbing across your clit. “luigi,” you moan, with your back arching with full pleasure. you could feel your wetness pooling through your underwear as he worked his fingers, sending waves of pleasure you had never felt before. you moan out, gripping his shoulders, until there’s a loss of contact. your eyes open and look at luigi, “why’d you stop?” you question. he toys at the waistband of your underwear, “I need to be inside you,” he begs. “I want you so bad, y/n,” he pleads. kissing you with intent and passion, he begins to remove your underwear. he takes off the remaining clothes, “are you sure about this, y/n?” he taps your hip, wanting reassurance. “I want you, luigi, so bad,” you moan and your hips instinctively buck up.

his hands sliding up your thighs to spread you open, you gasp at the sudden sensation. “you’re absolutely gorgeous, y/n” he looks down at you, all of you, just for him. he positions himself at your entrance, you moan softly, waiting in anticipation. he looks at you, you nod softly, telling him to begin. he enters you slowly, not wanting to hurt you in any way, trying to control his movements. you whined, feeling a mix of pleasure and pain, you’ve never felt anything like this before. you’re both so overcome with being wrapped around one another, no barriers between you two. the pain began to subside after a couple thrusts, and your wetness began to flutter around him. “fuck, I need to slow down y/n,” he buries his face into your neck. his erratic thrusts are becoming too much and the sensations are taking over. “god, I’m so close, y/n,” he moans, “you feel so good,” he babbles. it’s all becoming too much, his cock hitting the right spots. he begins moving much faster and you can tell he’s almost finished. “let go, lu. I got you,” you moan out to him, letting him know it’s okay to finish. with a low moan, he finishes, collapsing on top of you. “oh fuck, y/n. you’re perfect,” he says kissing up and down your torso. “did you finish?” he asks bashfully, realizing he didn’t get you there. “no, it’s okay though I still enjoyed it,” you rub your hand through his curls, still breathless. he looks up at you, “we can keep going, if you’d like,” you bite your lip, not sure if you could go for another round. “please?” he pleads with you.

“I want to please you” luigi looked up at you with his brown doe eyes, placing kisses across your chest, “is that okay?” how could you say no to that? god it was the hottest thing he has ever said, you nodded desperately.

he kisses your body hungrily, peppering kisses until he reaches your heat. spreading open your legs once again. “you’re so beautiful, I can’t believe this is all mine,” he confesses. he toys with your clit, leaving you breathless. then he quickly dives in head first, licking a stripe right at your hole, and edging up to sucking on your clit. “oh fuck, luigi,” you moan loudly as he continues sucking and lapping your cunt. “where did you learn to do this,” you question breathlessly while tugging his hair. you can feel him smile against you, it was driving you crazy. your legs wrap around his head as he teases you to your edge, “you’re so fuckin’ wet, all for me,” he groans against you. the pressure is becoming all too much, you arch further into his mouth, nails digging into his hair. “I’m so close, please,”you groan. then, the coil snaps in your belly, the feeling hits all too sudden and the orgasm violently rips through you.

your bodies cling onto each other, you’re both sweaty, wet, and overstimulated. luigi rolls onto his side breathlessly looking into your eyes, “same time tomorrow?” he jokes. you roll your eyes, the feeling sinking in that you guys are more than just friends.

[yourlocalbadgerscales]

Jesus Christ on a motorbike that was painful to watch…………… they did my girl El so dirty…………………………

WHAT WAS THAT MIKE YOU LOOKED GENUINELY DISGUSTED AND DIDNT EVEN CLOSE UR EYES????

THATS THE FACE OF A HOMOSEXUAL QUESTIONING WHY HE EVER ENJOED KISSING A GIRL, AND IF HE EVER EVEN DID ENJOY IT

Utter confusion. Side glance. Shock.

Finally realised you don’t like girls huh

or at least not El, not in THAT way

help I’m still internally cringing from this scene I

[raineandsky]

This is for the lovely anon who requested the New Better Villain taking on the villain's hero and gettin a lil too violent with it :) hope you enjoy!!

tw: implied violence, blood

The hero, for lack of a better word, looks normal.

The villain isn’t sure what he was expecting. Most people look normal. But all those years under a mask, a charade… it kind of became all that the villain could see him as. The hero. Even now, looking him in the eye as the person he is—really is—it doesn’t seem real.

That and, well— the villain can’t deny that he’s pretty alright to look at. That was certainly an unexpected twist.

The other villain—the bastard he’s cursed to work with, the jackass taking his job, his nemesis, his city—has the hero in a death grip. It feels like it’s all moving in slow motion. The two of them are tousling, kind of, as much as they can tousle with the other villain raining hellfire on a hero that’s well out of his depth.

It’s strange, that the other villain seems to be the outlier here. The hero and the villain have danced around each other for years. It’s been some sort of unspoken rule that they never quite hit hard enough to truly maim. But the hero came here, probably expecting the villain, expecting their usual song and dance, and instead got met with an entirely different tune.

Does the villain want the hero dead? Does he want their game to end? He doesn’t have time to decide.

“[Other Villain],” he snaps, “stop it.”

The other villain leans back, his fist still balled in the hero’s shirt, his other pulled back for yet another strike. “Oh, sorry.” His chest is heaving, as if he’s the one losing here. “You want a go?”

The villain doesn’t know what his answer would be to that. “I think he’s got the idea. Leave off.”

The other villain doesn’t move. The hero wipes idly at the blood painting his mouth.

Like a child asking a genuine question, the other villain simply says, “Why?”

“Because you’re ruining my fun.” True. “You’re taking over on my nemesis.” True. “You’re on my watch.” Half-true, without the supervillain to take charge. “I know this life better than you. Let me do my job and stop butting in.”

“You’ve been fighting [Hero] for years without any progress.” The other villain’s brow knits, genuinely confused. “I’m doing you a favour.”

The villain glances down at the supposed favour he’s getting. Blood splatters the hero’s face, deep crimson painting his clothes. Something of a black eye is already appearing, and the villain hates that noticing that means he also notices that the hero is looking right at him.

He’s not sure why it’s so off-putting. Should he have caused that? Does he want it to have happened at all? His emotions are clashing together in a horrendous cacophony and deciphering any of them is impossible.

“Let go, [Other Villain].”

The slight frown turns into something more hateful. “No.”

“Your violence isn’t welcome in this so-called partnership. Pull it together, or go tell [Supervillain] you ruined his plan.”

“You’re generations out of date, [Villain].” It comes out of the other villain’s mouth as a spit. “Violence is the way forward. I’m helping in ways you’ll clearly never understand.”

The villain isn’t entirely sure why he lurches for the other villain, much like he hasn’t been sure of anything since the hero showed up here and ruined what was already a fairly shitty day.

The other villain has his work cut out for him with an opponent that’s not already half-dead, it seems. The two of them land in a heap on the ground, the other villain’s grappling for his partner’s throat and the villain’s grip tight on the other’s wrists and the air disappears from the villain’s lungs and the world seems so far away and everything is muffled—

The villain gasps his next breath, scrambling away unsteadily. The world slowly comes back into focus, the hum of the city below and his own haggard breathing tuning back in. He swallows nothing, the feeling a sharp burn in his throat, and whips around to look for the other villain.

The villain finds him on the ground, unmoving, the lightest trail of blood trickling from his nose. The hero is sitting next to him with a battered road sign lying at his feet, staring off into nothing.

“Did—” The word hurts. The villain tries to clear his throat and only makes it feel worse. “Did you hit him with a roadwork sign?”

The hero huffs a sort of laugh that melts quickly into a cough. He doesn’t look at the villain when he says, “Think it was about time I hit him back, wasn’t it?”

“I didn’t know you had it in you. You’ve never hit me quite that bad.”

The hero actually laughs this time, the sound choked. “You pull what he just did and I’ll consider it.”

The villain hums a sort of laugh as well, settling on the floor opposite, and the two of them fall into silence. They’re both too tired to say much anyway.

This is another strange experience. The hero and the villain usually fight and go their separate ways. This sort of… hanging out is new. Different—and thankfully not the type of different that got them here in the first place.

The hero smiles at him, and even through the bloody face paint and the blooming bruises, the villain hates that he still looks good. Looks normal. Looks like a nice civilian that the villain would end up curiously following for a couple blocks because his half-decent face caught his attention.

The hero is, the villain supposes, a person too. Another civilian that looked at the state of the world and took up a side, just like the villain did.

“Thank you,” the hero says through the daze of annoyance, “for saving me.”

“Eh.” The villain waves a nonchalant hand. “It’s not like you were going to do it.”

That earns another choked laugh. “Ah, you’re funnier than you like to admit, [Villain].”

The villain scoffs in offence and quiet falls over them again. “Thanks as well, I guess, for…” He gestures vaguely at the other villain lying next to them. “Hitting my colleague over the head with a road sign.”

The hero’s smile grows. “You’re welcome.”

The hero reaches for his mask, just as stained red and tattered as its owner. He turns it over in his hands for a moment, slow and thoughtful, before carefully putting it back over his face. “Back to the heroics, then,” he says lightly.

The villain nods, but he’s not really listening. He finds that, now he’s seeing the person he’s familiar with, he preferred the hero without his mask after all.

[hivemuthur]

Can u request something with modern au with viktor where there’s an established relationship between reader and him and readers an artist? You can write whatever you want whether it’s dating hcs , fluff, nsfw !!

Dear Anon, I took the liberty and added a small, but significant detail to this request - the Reader is visually impaired. It is not implied why, as it wasn't relevant to the one shot, but you can imagine their vision to be compromised to the point of having to use a walking cane and being able to only recognize shapes/shadows. The picture for it is Hephaestus, as he is the godly representation of Viktor for me, just read about him. Having said that, here is: Hand of the Beholder

viktorxgn!reader mature! some suggestive content, Reader has a sight disability, Viktor is their muse :') A small fic, in which Viktor discovers that softness feels nice.

edit/author's note: I treat Elliott as a gn name in general (I might be wrong, but well). And Bono the dog's name - it's a reference to a pin Sinead O'Connor was wearing during one of her interviews after she had met Bono. It said Bono in short legs shock! and I think it's hilarious :)

word count: 3,3K

—

A loud thump, followed by the clatter of something wooden on the pavement. Then, “Are you blind?”—a voice exclaimed with utter irritation, one very familiar to you—followed by a gasp. You always loved that part.

“Partially. Getting there,” you replied, flashing a sweet smile in the direction of the voice. Kill them with kindness—that was the usual strategy.

What was odd was that the voice—and the vague shape you assumed was its owner—didn’t move from the spot where your clumsy dog had knocked them. Either you’d made an astonishing first impression, or they were too stunned to move.

“Forgive me, I—I am usually less… rude.”

“That’s alright, no need to beg for forgiveness on your knees,” you said, offering a more genuine smile. “I’m sorry about Bono; he’s a bit awkward in crowds.”

“This is embarrassing, but I might need your help getting up,” the voice admitted, followed by an awkward chuckle.

Once he accepted your hand and scrambled to his feet, he kept hold of your palm just long enough to give it a quick shake. “Thank you. I’m Viktor.”

You almost introduced yourself when your friend Elliott emerged from whatever pound shop she had left you in front of. “Oh God, this dog! He’s going to get you killed one day,” she huffed, grabbing the leash from your hand.

“Bono. So… are you a U2 fan?” Viktor asked. Smooth, Viktor. Very smooth. He felt his face twist in cringe but decided to own it, smoothing his clothes with his hands to distract himself.

“Ah, definitely not. But I’ve been told he has short legs, so there it is,” you replied with a chuckle, crouching to give Bono a pet and a treat. The dog licked your face in return, and you groaned in mock offense.

“Alright, is everyone fine? Can we get moving?” Elliott pressed, clearly eager to move on. Her ‘just a second’ stop had already turned into twenty minutes of snooping through junk.

Viktor, utterly confused, felt words pushing their way out of his mouth before he could stop them. “Or, I could buy you a coffee? For the inconvenience? If… you’re not busy?” His voice rose slightly with each question, and again, he decided to own it by gulping down on this weird lump in his mouth and producing a smile.

“I feel like I should be the one buying you a coffee, Viktor. But yes, sure,” you replied casually, though truthfully, you just wanted to hear that warm, accented voice for a little longer.

Later, at the café, Viktor found himself absolutely baffled by your bluntness and the merciless jokes you’d thrown in his direction. He wondered where the hell his sass had gone. His legs were continuously bumped by Bono, who had clearly taken a liking to him and wouldn’t stop drooling onto his lap. When Viktor tried to joke about service dogs, usually more collected, he learned that Bono was, in fact, just a dog, and his only service was being a good boy.

Everything about this was so surreal and unlikely that his curious mind wouldn’t let him not ask you out again.

And this was how you met, two years ago, give or take. Two three-legged creatures connected by another, four-legged one, whose short legs seemed to give him matchmaking superpowers.

What had been the strangest feeling in the world for Viktor was being seen in a way he had never been seen before. Without a single question about his looks, without prying touches or purposeful exploration, you had managed to put together all the pieces that made him who he was. And suddenly, his cane didn’t matter, the way others looked at him didn’t matter. What mattered was the warmth of his hands, the tone of his voice, the feeling of soft jumpers, and his mind—the most brilliant thing you’d ever had the pleasure to explore.

And Bono got so many treats for it, his legs seemed even shorter as he grew fatter.

Which is why Viktor agreed to do something that, ordinarily, he would nervously laugh off before fleeing the country. His wobbly legs carried him to the sculpture workshop, late enough for it to be private and unoccupied.

Seeing you setting up the materials around an inconspicuous clay figure, he walked up to you from behind and draped himself over your back, his arms cradling your shoulders, palms connected at your sternum. You could feel his heart thundering against your spine and asked, “Are you nervous?”

“A little,” he murmured, pressing his nose into the crook of your neck. “Is this me?”

“Not yet, for now it’s a dummy. Though, the frame was constructed to depict your figure,” you said quietly, placing your palm over his hands, your head leaning back to place a kiss on his temple. You could feel his scent filling your nose­—clothes that are just clean and a faint smell of shampoo lingering in his hair.

“Is it empty inside?” he asked, and you only nodded, brushing your nose against his cheek.

“Hmm, philosophically ironic, don’t you think?”

“Love, if I were to sculpt your liver, I doubt this experiment would prove useful,” you chuckled, hearing Viktor let out a bemused huff. “Besides, it would be very heavy.”

“Pity. I’m sure my liver is magnificent,” Viktor tried to deflect, but his breath betrayed him. The room was unbelievably warm, and he could feel his hands starting to sweat.

“And where do you want me?”

“Right beside me. We’ll do a lying pose, with your hands on your chest. I’ll show you, roughly,” you said, your own nervousness beginning to grow as you realised this was probably far more intimate than anything you’d experienced together before. Suddenly, all the sex you’d had in strange places didn’t seem so insane.

After a short presentation and a couple of awkward chuckles, Viktor splayed himself on the couch beside you, while you sat down by the worktable. You needed to mark the key points of his body to keep the proportions intact, so the first obvious choice was his face.

You placed your hand on his cheek, and he hummed softly, relaxing into your touch. Your fingers traced the structure of his bones, his nose, eyelids, the curve of his mouth, assessing the distance between them with one hand and marking them on the dummy with the other. You couldn’t help yourself and exclaimed, “Oh Viktor, you are so beautiful! All this time and I had no idea.”

Viktor let out an uninhibited cackle and playfully bit your fingers. “There it is—superficial vanity. And here I was, hoping someone would finally love me for more than my looks,” he said in mock offence, making you bite your lower lip to stifle a laugh.

“Of course I do. But at least now I can say things like, ‘Thank God you’re pretty,’” you grinned at him mercilessly, and he laughed again. When the laughter faded into a comfortable silence, you took a deep breath and made sure once more. “Are you absolutely confident you’re up for this?”

“Positive,” he said firmly. “Should I—?” The unfinished question was answered by his hand landing on his shirt, pinching it expectantly—a force of habit stronger when his nerves showed.

“Just the torso for now. It’ll take a couple of sessions, I think. And after that, who knows? Maybe you’ll abandon me and become a world-famous model,” you mused, attempting to hide your own anxiety.

Viktor only huffed in response and obediently slid his shirt off. Taking your palm, he placed it flat against his chest. “For some reason, I feel very close to a heart attack, but I have a feeling you do too,” he said gently, the brave honesty in his voice completely disarming you.

You exhaled softly, leaning in to kiss him on the lips—a lingering, delicate gesture meant to reassure rather than ignite. “Thank you,” you murmured against his mouth, your voice warm and sincere. “Remember, we can stop at any moment. Just say the word.”

Viktor nodded, though words seemed to escape him now. His eyes followed your every move as you shifted closer, warming your palms by rubbing them against each other. You began your work, one hand ghosting over the sharp line of his jaw, the other placed on the dummy to mirror his shape.

Your touch was deliberate, slow, and almost reverent. Your fingers started at the hinge of his jaw, ghosting over the texture of his skin. Most of it was smooth, with the tiniest bit of grain, like a piece of glass worked by the sea over the years. You paused, mapping the angle where his jaw met his neck—the hardness of bone giving way to the flexible tendon beneath. You tapped on it delicately to test the bounce of his muscle—here his skin was silky, and firm and you could smell the faint scent of cream he applied after shaving. You gave it one more lingering touch, before moving to the earlobe, tracing it with your thumb, your fingers brushing against his hairline. Viktor let out a breathy exhale, and you smiled under your nose.

“Enjoying yourself?”

“Mmm, you have no idea,” he hummed, placing his palm over yours instinctively. His hands were warm, and you could feel the heat radiating off his cheek onto your wrist.

You slid your hand toward the hollow beneath his cheekbone, pausing on the beauty mark under his eye to mark it on the dummy. It had a faint rise over the rest of his face, and you did your best to depict it’s shape. You could feel his cheek rising in a smile.

Moving to the slight curve of his lips, your fingertips lingered there for a moment longer than necessary. You pressed on the plushness of his mouth and felt Viktor leaning into your touch, his hot breath fanning your skin. Your finger trembled, when you found the tiny bump crowning his upper lip and Viktor pouted slightly, as if leaving a peck against your skin.

“Your bone structure is ridiculous,” you murmured absently, your voice hushed as though you were speaking to yourself, your fingers still pressed where they were.

Viktor’s throat worked as he swallowed, his chest rising and falling in a rhythm he was no longer in control of. “Ridiculous good or ridiculous bad?” he asked, his tone half-teasing, though the rasp in his voice betrayed how affected he was. You could feel the movement of his lips under your hand and a hot breath coming out, warming you up.

“Ridiculous perfect,” you replied simply, fighting your brain to focus on the clay in your right hand rather than on Viktor’s soft mouth under the mercy of your left.

You took a steadying breath and worked your way up to his brow, your thumb grazing the bushy ridge, your palm cradling the side of his face as you turned it slightly to study the other angle. You could make out the first wrinkles in the corners of his eyes, and the more prominent ones of his forehead, reinforced regularly by a thoughtful frown he wore so often.

His skin warmed under your touch, the heat blooming wherever your fingers roamed. Your other hand shaped the first layers of the structure of Viktor’s face in clay, its coolness a stark contrast to what your left one was going through.

As your hand slipped down to trace the lean column of his neck, Viktor couldn’t help the quiet exhale that escaped him. The feel of your fingers—gentle but firm, your nails just barely skimming over sensitive skin—caused him to tense up in places he didn’t expect himself to, not in this context. Your thumb and index finger examined his Adam’s apple, and it slipped away from your touch as he swallowed and chuckled awkwardly. The pulse in his neck quickened under your hand, and you paused for a moment, your lips curving in a soft, knowing smile.

“You’re doing great,” you whispered, your voice soothing, though you couldn’t help the subtle tone of praise he had granted you so many times when his hands travelled across your body with equal care. “Just breathe.”

“I am,” Viktor replied, his breath there, yet hitching as you moved to his collarbone, the tips of your fingers brushing the hollow above it before trailing the length of the bone. His skin prickled under your touch, and he found himself sinking further into the couch, his limbs loosening as if you had found a secret way to unlock him.

You kept working, holding on to your focus, but Viktor couldn’t take his eyes off you. The way your hands moved—deliberate, confident, as though you were committing every inch of him to memory—was so utterly erotic, so private. The soft furrow of concentration in your brow, the way your lips parted slightly as you worked, the occasional tilt of your head as you checked your progress against the clay—all of it was unbearably intimate, the dummy becoming a labour of love under your steady hand.

His own reaction caught him off guard. His breathing grew heavier, less controlled, his chest rising and falling with a rhythm he couldn’t mask. A flush crept up his neck, and he wondered if this was what you felt like when he had you pinned to the mattress.

You paused, brushing your thumb against the side of his throat. “You’re warm,” you remarked softly, tilting your head toward him. “Is this too much?”

Viktor smiled stupidly to himself, though his voice was low and rough. “Not at all. Just—unexpected.”

You chuckled lightly, your breath skimming his cheek as you leaned closer to reach the other side of his neck. “Unexpected— good or bad?” you asked, echoing his earlier words.

“Unexpected perfect,” he murmured, placing his hand over yours and craning his neck to kiss your jaw. It was utterly disarming—what it felt like to be touched for the sole purpose of being memorised.

You smiled to yourself as your hand moved lower, homing in on the flow of Viktor’s form. The tips of your fingers trailed down his chest, pausing to trace the curve of his clavicle before brushing over the flat planes of his sternum. You gave it a firm press, mechanically forcing out the breath Viktor had been holding. You could feel his heart thundering under your fingers, and it made you lick your lips. Here, his skin was thinner, more flexible, with a speckle of tiny bumps you knew to be his freckles.

Viktor exhaled under the pressure of your palm, and you could hear him chuckle nervously. A soft smile tugged at your lips as you allowed your hand to ghost over the defined ridges of his ribs, your fingers tracing just enough to make him shiver under the tickle. The motion was slow, deliberate, your palm spreading over the warmth of his chest as though mapping the heartbeat beneath.

“You’re tense,” you murmured, your eyebrows arching, cheeks rising in an involuntary smirk.

“I wonder why,” he replied, his voice softer now, laced with dry humour and vulnerability he judged was not worth hiding anymore. He felt himself slowly being disassembled to parts, the tiniest fractions of his being, each held to the light in the safety of your hands.

His cheeks were burning and his forehead dampening as you took your time, letting your hand move lower to the flat plane of his stomach. His muscles tensed instinctively, his tummy sucking in as if too shy to be touched, his body responding before his mind could catch up.

“Relax,” you coaxed, your voice as gentle as your touch, and he let out a quiet, shaky exhale as if obeying your command.

The curve of your fingers moved over his stomach to the sides, giving him a firm squeeze to follow your words. His breath steadied only for a moment before you slid your palm flat on the V-line of his underbelly, tracing the trail of hair disappearing under his trousers. Viktor let out a breathy moan, his spine flexing into your touch as he murmured an embarrassed, “Sorry,” the sound catching in his throat. His hands gripped the edge of the couch, his knuckles pale as he worked to steady himself. “I don’t believe I’ve been this flustered in years,” he laughed breathlessly.

“I shall make a mental note of that,” you whispered with a smile, and you could hear him chuckle again.

Your fingers continued their roam, brushing along the sharp lines of his hips, where the bone protruded just enough to catch the light. The fabric of his trousers shifted slightly under your fingertips, and Viktor shifted with it, a quiet gasp leaving him before he bit down on his lower lip.

The warmth beneath your hand grew, heat radiating from him in waves. His chest rose and fell in an unsteady rhythm, and his eyes—half-lidded and hazy—watched your every movement as if he couldn’t look away.

“You’re quite sensitive, you know,” you teased softly, the curve of a grin in your voice. You could feel the dummy slowly giving in, moulding into the shape of Viktor, his curves and sharp angles, as you mirrored each of your movements.

“Sensitive, am I?” he rasped, though his tone lacked its usual sharpness. It was warm, pliant, as if every word came from somewhere deeper than his throat.

Your fingers brushed the ridge of his hipbone, and Viktor’s breath faltered again, his hands twitching as though he wasn’t sure whether to still them or reach for you. “You’re certainly proving it,” you replied, your voice low, tenderly teasing.

Viktor swallowed thickly, his head tilting back against the couch with a soft thud. “I think I need you to kiss me,” he murmured, his accent thickening as his restraint faltered further.

You chuckled quietly, withdrawing your hand but letting it rest lightly against his side. “Hmm. Do I have your consent?”

He glanced at you from the corner of his eye, the faintest trace of a smirk tugging at his lips. “W-what? I just asked you.”

“Well, I’d rather make sure. I am no Picasso. This was supposed to be professional; I will remind you,” you said, your feigned seriousness accentuated by taps of your finger against his belly.

Viktor’s eyes darkened slightly at that, his gaze dropping to your lips as he said in a pained voice, “Please don’t tell me you would touch anyone else like this, because I will lose my mind.”

You leaned back, your hands stilling for the first time. “I would never,” you whispered. You pulled out your clean hand to caress his cheek, but his arms were faster as he yanked you into a hungry kiss, smearing some of the cold clay on his chest.

Still holding you close, Viktor let out a soft laugh, running his fingers through his hair as if to ground himself. “I think I would be a terrible model,” he joked, though his voice carried the faint tremor of someone not quite recovered.

“I think you did wonderfully. And I’ve learned a thing or two,” you hummed, your lips finding his nose to place a peck on it. Which reminded you, “Oh. I forgot to trace your nose.”

“Shall I book an extra session for that?” He teased, his tone coming back to himself as his hands slid up and down your back.

“Definitely. Though I think this particular session we should move home. I am feeling very inspired.”

[yuikomorii]

i just finished reading the young blood manga and it left me with more questions than answers 😅 so since ayato was the only one that ate the fig and later in the story he walked past yui in that crowd does that mean he was always destined to be adam? and always destined to meet yui? the part that also confused me the most was when it seemed like he woke up and realized it was all a dream i was like what was all that for then lol

// YB is interesting and beautifully drawn, but at the same time really confusing.

In the first chapter, we witness a child in pain, all alone, approaching the fig but ends up failing. Karlheinz then rewinds time. The second time, he identifies the child as Ayato and anticipates that he will become Adam, given how close Ayato had managed to get to the fig. After being used as bait and suffering abuse from the ghouls, Ayato escapes and reaches the place where the fig is located. Upon eating the fig, he is compelled to consume his own heart, which tastes the same as the cursed fig. In one way or another, by drinking blood at such a young age, he messed himself up.

What I’m genuinely wondering is, why was Ayato the only one who could ever get close to the fig? And what went so terribly wrong the first time??

But yeah, since Rejet confirmed him as the male lead of the franchise, he’s clearly the one destined to be with Yui in the main universe. After all, most otome games follow that pattern.

They even have cosplay brands together and matching Adam and Eve necklaces, lol. She even wears that necklace in any other LE route, not only his.

Although, it could also be a marketing strategy, since Ayato is extremely loved, sells the most, and even if Yui is with him, she benefits from the "Ayato privilege." This means most people will automatically desire Ayayui stuff if Ayato is there. That’s why Ayayui merch tends to be more expensive or sells faster than items featuring other pairs. They also look amazing together, and people love the visual duo… so of course, they’ll be promoted.

[death-himself]

is my definition of mascot horror wrong, because why do some people call hello neighbor a mascot horror game?

mascot horror is about some sort of twist on a childish sort of thing, like how FNAF is basically chuck e cheese horror and BATIM is a horror version of old black and white cartoons

i haven’t paid attention to hello neighbor in years, but if i remember right the only things it had in common with mascot horror was the intentionally confusing lore and it kinda turning into a cash grab overtime

do people just lump it in with mascot horror because it came out during the mascot horror boom or was maybe inspired by some of those games or??

[shewhowillrise]

Serious question for batjokes shippers:

How does this ship work with BatDad. Like legitimate healthy batdad? Specifically batdad with Jason. Or Pseudo BatDad with Barbara. Like…I used to like “ha gaaaay” ship it as a joke back when I was in my marvel phase. Now that I’ve jumped into the deep end of dc, I hate Joker. Like, Joker literally broke Bruce’s family. Sure I can see that out of love some twisted love from Joker. But love from Bruce? I don’t see it.

So like genuine question: how does Jason and Barbara or Duke (or Tim from BMB/BMAU) work in the universe of BatJokes? For example, SuperBat or WonderBat, I see Jason and Barbara and Duke conversing and being with the family and having dinner with Bruce’s SO. Joker as the SO?

I don’t see anyone but Bruce at that dinner table.

(This doesn’t even cover the universe where joker’s the one that kills the Waynes)

[clowningcrows]

how do i know if my chosen name is the right name :(

[skyleathero]

🕊✨❤️

[veone]

I personally enjoy fight club because it’s very interesting to watch the physical and mental self destruction of person trying to find a purpose in life when they don’t desire the typical traditional american ideal life. To see the descent into delusion.

[brutal-out-here]

So from what I’m understanding today there’s been yet another instance where Taylor/her team has said she was straight/not part of the community and that speculating these things is bad/she doesn’t like it and yet there’s still tons of people who choose to believe making blogs dedicated to decoding every second of her life to make connections to whatever sexuality they want her to have is a good thing?

[iattachtooeasilytocartoons]

i genuinely am asking, but when people post “goodnight say it back” are they serious?? like, i nearly did and chickened out, is that genuinely.

[willowpotatox]

Okay question.

If y’all are watching a show and the characters are eating a specific food does anyone else get the urge to eat that food too?

Like for example one time I was watching critical role campaign 2 and they were eating Carmel apples and It was October so I had some caramel apple making stuff at home and I went and made one and ate it while I watched. Another time they were drinking hot coco so I went and made some. And just now they are eating carrots so I went and got some carrots

This like only happens when I’m watching specific shows though, like critical role.

Idk if this is weird or just a me thing aldjksjf

Please lmk if you do this too lahdlajdkf

[alaskan-wallflower]

genuine question

does kyle eat kosher? because i know he said his mom packs him kosher lunches and stuff but he was also shown to eat ham and supposedly bacon pancakes from denny’s, so i’m kinda lost, can someone please help