#this doesn't mean i didn't like the finale

[simnopke]

The Sims 2 Legacy Collection: shadow fix

The rerelease of The Sims 2 introduced a fix for the black rectangles under Sims. You may have experienced this bug in the Ultimate Collection version.

As the creator of the Sims Shadow Fix, I was curious to know how it was done. But first, I'd like to explain what the problem with Sim shadows is.

What's the cause of the shadow bug?

When the game works as intended, a Sim shadow texture is a light bluish blob on a white background. It also has transparency, but it's unused. It looks like this:

However, many modern graphics cards render the texture as plain black with transparency:

That's why black rectangles appear under the Sims.

What does my mod do?

My mod is only a workaround for the bug. It uses the transparency to recreate the shadows.

The first versions released in 2015 and 2016 were achromatic, while the original shadows were bluish. Back then I didn't even know why and how my mod worked.

On 2 January 2025 I released new versions based on my research into shaders. I also recreated the original bluish shadows.

How does the Legacy Collection fix the shadow bug?

Thanks to @ivycopur I was able to examine the code. It uses a workaround, just like my mod.

In fact, it looks almost exactly like the really not misty 0.4 version of my mod, which, ironically, is now legacy. The shader code in the Legacy Collection contains the same nonsense. And a bit more.

Code comparison

The left side is the original code extracted from the Materials.package file in The Sims 2 Ultimate Collection. The right side is my code or the Legacy Collection code:

The differences between my code and the LC code:

the debug part: I removed it from my code as players will never see it. The LC has this feature untouched.

alphaBlend srcFactor: despite the difference, it actually changes nothing. Explained later.

The identical changes:

alphaBlend dstFactor,

the same colorScalar has been added,

textureBlend.

Nonsense #1: textureBlend

The textureBlend defines how the colors of the incoming texture are transformed. The first argument is responsible for the color channels, the second – for the transparency.

Originally it's just:

textureBlend select(texture) select(texture)

And it means that the texture is taken as it is.

My and LC code transforms it though. The colorScalar is defined as a partially opaque (40%) black color. The transparency argument takes the transparency of the original texture and darkens it with the 40% factor:

multiply(colorScalar texture)

And this makes sense. The color channels argument takes the transparency part of the texture and makes it pure black, because the color scalar is black:

multiply(colorScalar texture:alphaReplicate)

It's pointless. I could go:

select(colorScalar)

instead. It would be effectively the same.

The texture after the transformations looks like this:

Nonsense #2: alphaBlend

The alphaBlend defines how to mix the source colors (in this case the transformed texture from the textureBlend step) with the destination colors (in this case, the ground under Sim's feet).

The srcFactor argument defines the source color transformations, the dstFaction – defines the destination color transformations. And then they're put together.

Originally it's:

alphaBlend srcFactor(destColor) add dstFactor(zero)

The srcFactor says that the shadow colors are darkened with the ground colors. The dstFactor doesn't really matter because it's multiplied by zero (black). Also, transparency isn't used.

If I understand correctly, you could achieve the same effect with:

alphaBlend srcFactor(zero) add dstFactor(srcColor)

And the final effect is:

My and LC code had to do it differently. The dstFactor says to darken the floor color with inverted transparency:

dstFactor(invSrcAlpha)

It sounds complicated, but the inversion actually means that black becomes white and vice versa. So the transparency texture, which is a dark gray blob on a black background, becomes a light gray blob on a white background.

The srcFactor is actually useless because the shadow texture (from the textureBlend step) is black. So it doesn't matter if you use:

srcFactor(one)

like I did, or:

srcFactor(destColor)

as in the LC code, it will always be black because you can't make black any darker. To make the intention clear, I'd personally go with:

srcFactor(zero)

instead. The final effect would always be:

It's different from the original intended effect. You can even see the difference in the official screenshots:

Source 1 | Source 2

Conclusion

It doesn't look like a coincidence. The cause of the shadow bug hasn't been fixed, and I doubt that an experienced shader creator would come up with such a workaround. There are better ways.

Before you point out that it's against my terms of use to take my code and sell it, especially without credit, hear out. It doesn't matter – EA's policy allows it. And I'm not even angry. It's just funny that they trusted such a messy code. I wouldn't be surprised to see other creators' fixes in the Legacy Collection.

The good thing is that EA has addressed the shadow issue at all. 🙃

[missholloween]

Even if it had been teased through the intro and some of the trailers, I think no one expected this week's episode to end with Mark's reintegration, and that's so brilliant.

In many other shows, Mark's reintegration would have been a big season finale, something that had been building up all season and with a lot of debate from Mark. However, it actually happened in a whim, at the end of the third episode where we are not even halway through the season, when no one was expecting it. And it didn't feel rushed or too sudden, because the show understands its characters.

Of course Mark, once he's sure his wife is still alive and back in the severed floor, decides to reintegrate on a whim. He doesn't doubt, he doesn't take time to think, because he simply needs to see Gemma again, even if that means fucking up his brain as he saw it did to Petey. And that's brilliant! It's desperate, it's rushed, it's So Visceral... But it's also how real people make their decisions! Mark Scout has always felt like a person, and I just can't admire the writing of the show enough.

[maxisodenoth]

Oops, forgot to block.

But anyways, it seems like you don't understand.

Let me put it like this for you.

You have been provided links with proof [that I'm sure you didn't even touch.] And instead of bringing up any point related to them you stick to your same arguments.

I asked you a simple yes or no question, and you seem to have taken it personally. It doesn't matter to me what you think the answer is, because the answer is always no. An infertile woman is just as much of a woman as any other. We are what we want to be. Your words mean nothing to me, and other peoples identity. [which let me remind you *again* that you've been provided links in the comments which explain this stuff better than I ever could]

[And let me tell you something. Just because we can't have kids right now doesn't mean it'll remain that way in the future. I believe that something will be figured out later in the future that will allow trans-people to be able to reproduce with their new reproductive apparatuses. Whether that takes years or decades doesn't matter. It'll happen.]

You used word meanings as "arguments". May I remind you that, words were created far before any research was done on this matter? [Not exaclty sure when or how much words change but I'm almost sure it's a pretty slow process, so they might be a bit or alot outdated. Not sure though.] And that maybe instead of etymology, you should be looking at psychology, and biology? [Links in the comments~] Trying to use words meanings as arguments doesn't really work out that well when we're not talking about words but people.

[And by the way. Where is your evidence? You've been provided links explaining this stuff, yet when pressed, you only choose to go to ... a dictionary? Really?]

[Also, since you've stooped into insults let me get in on that action.]

Why do you care so much? Like really. Why does this matter that much to you? Are you that miserable that the only joy you get is by hating on other people being themselves and happy?

Look, I know it's hard to find a purpose in life, or a job, but it'd be alot easier if you stopped being a prick and just let people be themselves. There's no reason to hate people who literally don't affect you in any shape or form. They're just being themselves. Cope. [Your final reminder that there are links in the comments!~]

Or do you just refuse to grow up and understand that it doesn't matter what you say. People will be themselves and happier than you will ever be?

I am not a debator. I'm just some angry penguin on the internet. I have left my piece here. And I won't forget to block this time. May this be the last time I see your miserable blog on my feed.

And for everyone else who comes across this post, trans or otherwise. Your identity is Valid. You know yourselves better than some stranger on the internet. Or anyone who's not you. Because it's Your Identity. Not these peoples.

Do not let the hateful words of bigots make you feel bad about youself. You are the only one who can choose your identity. Not some idiots on the internet. You. And let me say this again Your identity is always valid. No matter what others say. ❤️

Goodbye. 👋

[Even if you reply to this, I'm not wasting anymore of my time on you John. You've been given links, read them. The same goes for any asshole who wants to start another argument. I do not care for you. Find someone else to deal with your bullshit.]

Facts matter. #VoteBlue

[captain-huggy-bear]

Just thinking about how clingy Jack is after a roadie. That man won’t let you do anything

Yeah, lets be real, Jack is a clingy baby. Olympic levels of clingy when he's finally back home. Totally happy to take requests/ideas/prompts at the moment in my ask box :) Writing Masterlist

Jack's always been clingy. This is only made ten times worse when he's missed you. He's under your feet every time he comes back from a roadie. He's a tactile person by nature, always reaching for you on any given day, but it's made 100 times more severe when he's been gone for a few days or worse a week. In a lot of ways it's sweet and flattering that he cares and misses you so much that he has to be on top of you the moment he’s home, has to be under your feet. In other ways? It's a bit of an inconvenience, and depending on your mood can actually make you a little grumpy.

It starts with him just being in the same room as you, whether it’s watching you cook or watching you fold laundry, Jack’s eyes follow you wherever you go. But, it never stays like that for long, maybe 5 minutes tops. Soon he’ll start physically following you around the room, not quite under your feet, but close enough that he’s in your peripheral vision, your shadow. You can feel him behind you, can sense where he is at all times even when he isn't yapping away at you. This is manageable, he’s not in the way and he’s never stopping you from doing what you need to at this point, but it never lasts long. Usually within 20 minutes of Jack being home he’s on you like the plague, arms latched around you, chest to your back, face nuzzled into your neck.

It’s sweet but impractical, you’re trying to go about your day and he refuses to let go of you, he has to be physically attached to you in some way whether it’s wrapping you in his arms and waddling behind you or putting his chin on your arm or a hand on your leg.

"Jack, I'm trying to make my lunch," You can't help but laugh as you try to cut up some veggies, arm movements somewhat restricted by the band of arms wrapping around your chest. Jack's so close to you he's practically pressing you into the counter.

"You can still make lunch like this..." He grumbles into your neck, pressing kisses to the skin there, the kisses are so light that you can't help but giggle at the ticklish sensation. This only draws an encouraged smirk from him, one that you can feel widening against your skin.

"Jack..."

"Angelllll...."

"Jackkkkkk," Nothing you say or do will get him to let go, he'll waddle around the kitchen with you, waddle to the kitchen table. Even when you sit down, he drags a chair so close to you that your legs are touching from hip down to ankle and he's got his arms wrapped around your waist, chin pressed into your shoulder the entire time you eat. You can't help but feel a mite embarrassed at him watching you so intently with those baby blues while you eat, the only thing making it bearable is the fact he's smiling the whole time like you're doing something amazing. Not just eating lunch.

Even when you try to shower, he's there, unable to detach himself from you because he's been gone so long and don't you love him? Didn't you miss him? He just wants to be around you...and Luke will more than happily confirm that Jack has been unbearable the entire roadie, nonstop talking about how he can't wait to get back home to you when he isn't talking about hockey.

“Jack, baby, I need to shower…” Your hands are pushing at Jack's shoulders in an attempt to get him to unlatch from you, but he's a hockey player. He's strong and if he doesn't want to be move then he's not moving.

“Can’t I just shower with you?”

“As if you could keep your hands to yourself..." You scoff at him trying to peel his arms off you, Jack only squeezes your waist tight. He's pouting up at you like you're being mean for wanting to have a shower without his arms attached to you for five minutes.

"I promise I can, I promise, baby..."

"No."

"Then I'm sitting in here." It's like watching a toddler sit on the floor of a supermarket refusing to get up because they can't have the thing they wanted. The way he points at the closed toilet lid to further illustrate his point, that he's not going anywhere.

"You're going to sit there and watch me shower? Like a creep?"

"Like a boyfriend who's missed his girlfriend who he loves dearly and who's girlfriend won't let him help her shower because she doesn't trust or love him." He's ultimately joking, you can see it in the twinkle in his eyes. You know if you told him that you wanted him to leave, that he was making you uncomfortable, he would. It's what makes the whole thing sweet and endearing because you don't mind him wanting to constantly be under your feet, you actually kind of love it.

"I trust you..." you pause for a second before grinning at him, "I just don't trust you to keep your hands to yourself."

"Baby..." He whines at you, almost throwing a tantrum, bouncing up and down on the balls of his feet. You know this phase will go soon, after a day back he'll still be clingy but not to this extent, so you find it cute and endearing rather than irritating while it lasts.

"Do you promise to help me wash my hair and not make any untoward advances?"

"Yes! Yes, I promise!"

"Okay, you can help me shower you big baby."

And he does help you wash your hair, but maybe his hands do wander a little...because he's Jack and he's missed you.

[ellesreids]

warm reception — s. reid

you finally meet some of spencer's colleagues in an unconventional way. very heavily implied towards earlier seasons reid.

──── ୨୧ ────

It's been an exhaustingly busy day; the team was working a local case, meaning no long-distance traveling was required, but that didn't make the case itself any easier. They weren't very close to a solid profile, and it felt like the unsub's MO changed with every attack.

The most recent has been at a university not far from headquarters, a young woman found dead inside the main quad. It was also the same university you went to, and if that wasn't already enough to unnerve Spencer, you not answering his calls were close to pushing him over the edge.

Spencer feels like he's been on his feet the whole day, and he feels like he hasn't been much help to anyone with his mind wholly preoccupied by his concern for you. He wondered if you were safe, if you were the one that discovered the body, if you were maybe close to the victim.

The team had some of the victim's friends and other witnesses brought in for questioning, and while they were busy with that, Spencer had been quietly working on the geographical profile to try and pinpoint where the unsub might strike next. His attention is drawn from the map in front of him when he hears his name called, only to find you standing next to Morgan, seemingly making your way from one of the interrogation rooms.

He drops everything curtly before making his way to you, quickly giving you a once over, and once he sees no visible damage, he calms down a bit. It doesn't completely eliminate the nerve wrecking anxiety, but it gives him some peace of mind that you atleast hadn't been hurt.

"Hey, are you okay? What are you doing here?" he rushes out, not really giving you time to process his questions. "I'm okay," you breathe, sparing him a small smile you hoped looked somewhat reassuring, "I wasn't at the crime scene, I was only brought in for questioning because I was one of Kathy's long term lab partners. Nothing serious I suppose," you add, sparing Morgan a look, who was still standing next to you and silently observing the scene unfolding infront of him.

"I'm sorry, you two know each other?" he asks, looking at you and then Spencer with a raise of his eyebrows. You nodded once his eyes were on you again, suddenly shy under his questioning gaze. "We're dating," you said with a small smile, watching as the shock took over Morgan's whole face, from his eyebrows shooting up into the sky to his mouth hanging slightly agape at your words.

"Dating, huh?" he asked, watching as you nodded again. "Well, how come you never told us you had a pretty girl waiting for you at home, Reid?" he asked, attention back on the now furiously blushing young man. "It's— it's fairly new," he stuttered, trying his best to look collected, and failing miserably. "I was going to tell you, eventually."

Spencer was right, the two of you had only been dating for a little less than two months, and as selfish as it may sound, he was planning on keeping you to himself for a little longer. Morgan shook his head in understanding and slight disbelief, a gentle hand coming up to pat your back. "Well, it's nice to finally meet pretty boy here's girlfriend, even under the circumstances," he said, and you hummed in agreement, giving him a warm smile.

"Are my ears deceiving me or did I just hear you refer to this young lady as Reid's girlfriend?" a bubbly voice came seemingly out of nowhere as Penelope appeared next to Spencer, curious eyes drifting over to you and Morgan. "You heard right," he smiled, "this is—"

"Penelope Garcia," she interjects, shaking your hand, and you notice how everything about her is so vibrant. From her prettily painted nails, to the colorful frames of her glasses and the many statement pieces that adorned her, like the bows and the chunky jewelry. She was like the embodiment of sunshine.

"Gosh, you're gorgeous! It is so nice to meet you, even if I'm just now finding out about you," she said, side eyeing Spencer, who looked like he was on the verge of passing out. "We should totally go out for drinks some time though, a formal introduction is way overdue," she added very matter-of-factly.

"I agree," you smiled, already taking a liking to her sweet and bubbly personality. "I'd love to hang out and get to know Spencer's colleagues."

"I'm already excited!" she said, bracelets chiming as she clapped her hands together. "Oh! We should have a girls night! You'll love Elle and JJ, we could—"

"Okay, I think we should give these lovebirds some space, babygirl. You can plan your girl's night some other time," Morgan chirped in, already throwing his arm around Garcia and leading her away. "You'll be okay seeing her out, right Reid?" he asked and Spencer nodded, already leading you to the door with a hand to the small of your back.

"They seem nice," you said, once you were out of earshot, hovering around the exit not yet ready to leave yet. "They are nice," Spencer smiled before his face morphed into an unreadable expression. "I hope you don't think I was trying to hide you from them," he spoke softly, "I really was going to tell them about you when the time was right."

"I understand," you smiled, squeezing his upper arm affectionately, "I am glad I finally got to meet them though. Some of them at least." He smiled at that, nodding as if deep in thought. The flurry of movement behind him caught your attention, making you giggle to yourself at the sight. "I think you're needed back at your desk," you said, prompting Spencer to turn around swiftly, scared that it might be Gideon or Hotch waiting for him. It wasn't, but it was a group of very curious agents gathering around his desk in hopes of catching another glimpse of the mystery girl.

You recognized Penelope, who seemed to be in the middle of telling a very interesting story to the blonde and brunette ladies that stood either side of her. The brunette's eyes caught yours, her sparing you a shy smile at being caught before she was swiftly dispersing everyone away from Spencer's desk and back to their respective stations.

"I'll see you tonight," you said, bringing Spencer's attention back to you. When you saw the coast was clear, non of his colleagues in close range anymore, you pressed a chaste kiss to his cheek, watching the way his ears tinged pink almost immediately, making you smile. He only nodded in reply, giving you a tight lipped smile and seeing you off with a small wave which you returned eagerly.

[sweetbans29]

Back to You (1) - CC Series

Pairing: Caitlin Clark x Reader

Summary: The breakup.

Warning: Angst

Word Count: 1.3k

Back to You Masterlist & Sweetbans Masterlist

Hi hi! I know it has been a long while and I can't say I am back forever but I am back for now and I feel like that is something we both have been wanting. I can't promise fast but if you hand in there, I think this series will be worth it. Love you all!

"Cait, what do you mean?" You say as you look your girlfriend dead in the eyes. Well, I guess your ex-girlfriend now. She looks away from you, looking down to her fidgeting hands.

The two of you have been dating for 3 years. Technically 2 years, 11 months and 26 days. You are days away from your 3 year anniversary.

"Caitlin, what do you mean?" You ask again, trying to keep your voice as steady as possible.

"I mean exactly what I said," she says almost inaudibly. Her eyes still locked on her hands as the words come out sounding like a mistake, like they aren't even her words to begin with.

You scoff and turn around, brining your hands to your head. You begin to pace and try to think of any sort of indication this was on the horizon.

The thing is, your relationship with Caitlin has never been conventional. For starters, if you were to ask anyone on campus, they would tell you that Caitlin is dating Connor McCaffery. If you were to ask the world, they would say she is happily in a relationship with Connor whether they agreed with it or not. Her manager thought it would be a good publicity move. Not that you had any say in the matter. It didn't matter to you - you had Caitlin and that was everything.

Another thing about your relationship is that only a select few knew about it. Her manager being one of them. Connor, of course. Your parents and your mutual best friend, Kate Martin.

Her team didn't know. Neither of your friend groups knew. She even went so far as keeping you from her parents which was always a sore point in your relationship. You didn't need the world to know but the two of you had many discussions around telling her parents.

You knew going into this relationship that she wanted to keep in hidden. You had fallen so hard for the girl that nothing mattered expect being with her. So you put your pride aside and told her it didn't matter and you meant it. Nothing mattered except being with her. The secrecy. The cover-up boyfriend. The closed doors. None of it mattered because when it was the two of you - it was right. It was good. She's your everything.

"What she means is that we are no longer faking it," Connor says with a smirk.

You lift your left hand and flip him off. You hear him laugh.

"Caitlin," you begin, trying to focus solely on her.

"Are you deaf?" Connor says. "It's over. You're finished."

"Con, maybe you should go," Caitlin says, wanting to explain what is actually going on. "I got this."

"Clearly you don't," he says as he steps in between you and her. "Look, you two had your fun but Caitlin came to her senses and she has chosen me. You were a fun experiment for the time being but she doesn't swing that way."

You can physically feel the steam coming out of your ears as you breath deeper trying to compose yourself enough to not rip his head off. You see Caitlin put a hand on his shoulder. Your eyes close.

"Don't make this harder on yourself than it needs to be," Connor says.

"I need to hear her say it," you say through gritted teeth, eyes still closed. Your head fogs, as if opening your eyes would wake you from this nightmare. "I need her to say it."

You hear the shake in Caitlin's breath as she inhales, ready to speak. After a moment, nothing comes out. Her words caught in her throat.

Connor turns to her and holds her shoulders, "I got this babe, if she is making you uncomfortable, you can wait in the car."

Little to his knowledge, that is the last thing Caitlin wants.

"Connor, can you give us a minute please?" Caitlin says, finally bringing her eyes to you.

"Just make it fast," Connor says, annoyance in his tone. He kisses the top of Caitlin's head and walks away from where the two of you are standing by your car.

No amount of fresh air seems to be enough in this moment.

You look at her, waiting for her to say something. Anything, at this point.

Her eyes grace over you, stopping at your lips and you feel like you can see her take a the slightest of inhales. Your lips were always one of her favorite spots.

Caitlin's hand twitches and the one one thing she wants to do she can't, not with what is happening the next few months that will launch her career in the W.

You close your eyes again, you can't get your mind to stop spinning.

Caitlin brings her hand up, close enough to touch your face but she hesitates. You feel her presence and hold your breath. Waiting - hoping for her to show any signs that this isn't happening.

She brings her hand back down to her side and fists her shirt to keep herself from caving.

You wait for her to speak and after a few minutes of silence you decide to break it.

"Was any of it real?" You ask. You have never doubted Caitlin before and you really don't know why you are doubting her now but with the things Connor said and hearing her start this whole avalanche has you questioning everything.

"That's not fair," Caitlin says, getting defensive that you would even think that. "Of course it was real."

Your eyes flash open.

"Not fair? Not FAIR?" You seethe. "What's not fair is the fact that I have loved you for the past 3 years and the only person to know about it was your media boy toy. I have given you all of me, everything I have to give and I was okay doing it all under your terms, your conditions. I have been nothing but willing Cait. So much so that I was willing to hide us from the people YOU love most. Never rushing you. When did we go from packing for our 3 year anniversary to here? And you have the audacity to say it’s not fair when I ask if it’s been real. How am I suppose to believe that it’s been real when I’ve been hidden for all this time?”

You take a step towards her and she takes a step back. If nothing up to this point broke your heart - that little step did. You realized in that moment that there was nothing you could say, definitely nothing you could do to take back this moment. Take back her decision.

You nod, heart finally shattering into the millions of pieces you have been trying to hold together. You take a step back. Then another.

Caitlin realizes that this is your surrender. She panics and begins to take step forward but stops. This is already hard enough without explaining why she is doing this, not that she could thanks to the contract she signed with her manager.

"I'm sorry," she says softly, as if those two words would somehow make this all a little better.

It doesn't.

You turn around, refusing to let your tears spill in front of her. You don't hear her walk away but you wish she would. You can only hold it together for so much longer.

Your breathing becomes shallow, as you throat beings to close. You let out a single sob before throwing your hand over your mouth as you wrap your other arm around your stomach. Providing little to no comfort for yourself.

Caitlin's hand comes up to your shoulder, giving it the lightest touch. Similar to the one she gave Connor not 15 minutes ago. You shrug her off and compose yourself.

"No, Caitlin. I'm the the one who's sorry," you choke out. "I'm sorry I wasn't enough."

You open your car door, get in, and drive away - leaving who you thought would be your future, in the past.

AN - I have been thinking about this series for a whole 12 hours before I started to write it lol. I don't know how long it will be but I can tell you this is only the beginning. Buckle up. Let me know what you think! And as always, thank you for your love and support 🤍

[isaisliterallyhim]

hey can you please write about reader giving nagi a handjob while he's playing but as revenge because he's been ignoring reader for his games so reader doesn't let him cum unless he wins the round but he can't focus on the game because of the pleasure he's feeling!! hoping for a kinda subby nagi if that's alright <3

YES YES OMG ANON BBY I SEE IT AHJWJSAJ delicious plot hehe!

"i'm about to show you, baby slow down!"

ft. nagi seishiro . ooc! nagi ? . somewhat sub! nagi heh . aged up! characters . established-relationships . fem! reader . nsfw . smut . handjobs . cockwarming in the end ? . nagi's kinda a dick rn . use of mommy ig... . unreliable narrator.. :^

wc: 0.5k

cw: this might be dub-con idk tho

"my girlfriend's always harassing me whenever i'm tryna play a game.. what a hassle," nagi started off. his friends giggled on vc. "she's a nice person, you'll get used to it."

a few rounds of horror games, nagi was carrying hard. (heh hard like him :x) horror games were yea, a hassle. but, not a hassle to him. unlike his friends, nagi didn't really scream. shit, he was so lazy he didn't even wanna be fazed.

this round in particular though... "g-good god..." the man whined, spasming a little. "you good, nagi?" bachira asked. "is the horror finally getting to you?" your softer, smaller hands pumping at his cock :p

it started off slow, nagi didn't really notice at first. slow and steady wins the race right? but after a few more minutes of getting ignored, you fastened the pace.

you locked eyes with nagi. your lips curling into a smirk. "sei, what're your friends g'na think when they realize that when you're receiving a handjob with little to no lubrication at all?" you began. "your cock was leaking so much pre — it was like you wanted me to do this!" you continued to yap, face now no longer in a cocky demeanor but, in a pouty expression now.

"[n-name]," the grey eyed man moaned out. your expression, your hands... the stimulation was getting to him. "w-wait guys- oooh..." nagi tried to get out, his voice now strained. "nagi, you weren't even screaming are you good?" isagi asked. screaming? nah this guy was CREAMING.

"y-yep, i'm good," he stuttered out. "i jus' need a few minutes off real qui.." his voice trailed off as he muted himself. his hand released the mouse as his calloused fingers wrapped around your hand. nagi began thrusting into your hand.

his shaft was absolutely tearing up, just like the man. tears leaked from his eyes while there was a bit of semen leaking out of his tip LOL.

"[name], s-slow down.. [name], i-i.." he couldn't even get the words out as he scrunched his eye shut. "sei, yknow you dont deserve this at all.. all you've done was ignore me n shit this whole week..." you frowned. nagi knew he was coming close, hell he WAS going to come.

"i'm sorry mommy, i didn' mean t'- god! please, i'm sorry!" he apologized. the stimulation actually got to nagi as he came. his precious n delicious come leaked out as he let out the most gorgeous moan you've ever heard during the whole time you two were together.

your eyes kinda widened. nagi had this flushed, fucked out expression. he was panting like crazy. "[name], i'm so sorry.." he sobbed.

"what happened to emotions being a hassle, seishiro?" you teased. his sweatpants n boxers were to his knees LOL. nagi slid down your shorts n panties. "please let me feel your warm cunt, ma'am.. please use me f' your pleasure, pretty.." nagi mumbled. most genuine mumble omd...

"my bad guys, i'm back." nagi grunted after unmuting. nagi had a little bit of struggle seeing the PC screen with his gorgeous partner's warm n tight walls clenching against his shaft. let's just say, nagi wasn't the best player after LOL.

— ©isaisliterallyhim, 2025

tags! : @twijaxx ♡, @kyvkc

a/n : errr... idk man i came back from training w my corps i j wrote this and threw it .. kinda late night post so uhwhhdaj sorry for the unreadabler englush i tried ok ygs i j went thru a breakup pls give me credit for trying. nyways, nagi ohf wakkk hes so hot omg.. i need that 190 cm man in me omgmgmjddkkwjd anyhow i hope ygs enjoyed hehe

[bleach-smashorpass]

Congratulations to our Winner and runners-up!

And, in plain text, the rest of the Top 10!

4th: Aizen Sosuke (8-2)

5th: Chika Shihoin, Shuhei Hisagi (5-2)

7th: Ichigo Kurosaki, Urahara Kisuke (5-2)

9th: Tier Harribel (4-2), Grimmjow Jaegerjaques (6-2), Coyote Starrk (4-2), Retsu Unohana (5-2)

Now that the tournament has ended, I am sharing the full bracket for perusal, you can find it here. If you'd like to see the complete final standings, those can be viewed here. Doing this means I don't have to figure out how to format images because they would be Very Large. (The bracket does not include tie-break polls!)

Hosting these polls has been so much fun, thank you all for coming along this (very lengthy) journey. When originally setting this up, I figured it would come down to Rangiku and Renji, so while I'm not surprised, it was fun to watch how we got there — there was a minute where I thought we'd get a Rangiku vs Yoruichi final.

(I also want to give a special shoutout to the Grimmjow girlies, his polls consistently had some of the highest votes, with almost 3k votes on the poll with Byakuya. He didn't win simply because he doesn't live in the Seireitei.)

[yncoreee]

10 STEPS TO GETTING A GIRL. Hanni x reader

February 1st, 2025

Dear Diary,

I'm literally dying of boredom in class right now. I've been secretly scrolling through TikTok under my desk (don't tell the teacher), and I stumbled upon this hilarious video of a girl trying to get her crush's attention. She said she was going to "show off her charms" to see if it would work. And, surprisingly, it did!

I watched the video like three times, and I couldn't help but think, "Why not me?" I mean, I've had a crush on y/n for ages, and I've been too scared to even talk to her. But today, I decided to take a chance.(•̀ᴗ•́)و

As luck would have it, y/n was sitting right beside me in class. I "accidentally" dropped my pen on the floor next to her, and I stood up to go pick it up. I gave her my best "innocent-like eyes" look and brushed a strand of my hair behind my ear. I was trying to channel my inner “soft girl" vibes.

But, um, let's just say it didn't quite go as planned.~(>_<~)

As I looked up at y/n, I expected her to, I don't know, melt into a puddle of love or something. But instead, she just gave me this blank, questioning look. Like, she had no idea what I was even doing.

I felt my face heat up with embarrassment, and I quickly apologized and stood up to return to my seat. As I sat down, I couldn't help but curse myself for making things so awkward. I mean, who tries to flirt with someone in the middle of class?

I glanced over at y/n, who was now staring intently at the teacher. I couldn't help but wonder what she was thinking. Was she confused? Amused? Repulsed?

Ugh, I don't know why I even tried. I'm just going to stick to my usual self from now on. No more trying to be someone I'm not.

But, as I looked at y/n again, I couldn't help but feel this tiny spark of hope. Maybe, just maybe, she didn't notice my awkwardness. Maybe she'll even talk to me someday.

A girl can dream, right?( ´ ▽ ` ).｡ｏ♡

I'm going to bed now, diary. I have a feeling tomorrow is going to be a long day.

Goodnight!

P.S. I'm renaming this operation "10 Steps to Getting a Girl (Without Making a Total Fool of Myself)".

February 2nd, 2025

Dear Diary,

Today was the day I decided to try out my hair flip move. I practiced it in front of the mirror for hours, perfecting the technique. I mean, who doesn't love a good hair flip, right?٩(ᐛ)و

As I walked down the hallway, I spotted y/n leaning against her locker, looking adorable as usual. I took a deep breath, flipped my hair, and gave her my brightest smile.

But, of course, things didn't quite go as planned. As I flipped my hair, I lost my balance and stumbled into the locker next to y/n. I mean, it was like the universe was conspiring against me.

Y/n looked at me with this confused expression, (o_O) like she was trying to figure out what I was doing. I just laughed it off and played it cool, like I meant to do that.

"Hey, what's up?" I said, trying to sound casual.

Y/n just shrugged and said, "Not much. Just waiting for my tutor."

I nodded and stood there for a few awkward moments, trying to think of something else to say. But before I could come up with anything, y/n's tutor showed up, and they walked off together.

I watched them go, feeling a bit deflated. I guess my hair flip move needs a bit more work.

But I'm not giving up! I'll keep trying until I get it right.(>ᴗ•)

Until next time, diary...

P.S. I think I need to work on my balance.

February 4th, 2023

Dear Diary,

Today was the day I decided to do a good deed for y/n. I figured, what's the best way to get someone's attention? By being kind and thoughtful, of course!

I spent hours thinking about what I could do for y/n. Should I carry her books? Buy her lunch? Help her with her homework? The possibilities were endless!

Finally, I decided on the perfect plan. I would buy y/n's favorite lunch and surprise her with it during class. I mean, who doesn't love a good surprise?

I arrived at school early, eager to put my plan into action. I bought y/n's favorite lunch - a turkey sandwich and a bag of chips - and carefully placed it in a bag.

As I walked into class, I spotted y/n sitting at her desk, looking adorable as usual. I took a deep breath, walked over to her desk, and proudly presented her with the lunch.

"Hey, I bought you lunch!" I said, trying to sound casual.

Y/n looked up at me, surprised, and said, "Oh, thanks..."

But before she could even take the lunch from me, disaster struck. As I was handing her the bag, I tripped on my own feet and spilled the entire contents of the bag all over y/n's shirt. (」°ロ°)」

I mean, it was like the universe was conspiring against me. Again.

Y/n looked down at her shirt, now covered in turkey and chips, and let out a deep groan. "Seriously?" she said, her voice laced with frustration.

I was mortified. I immediately apologized and tried to help her clean up the mess. "Oh no, I'm so sorry! Let me help you clean that up!" I exclaimed, grabbing a handful of napkins from the desk.

But y/n stopped me with a sigh. "Don't worry about it. It's okay."

She stood up, her shirt stained and dirty, and began to walk away. I felt a pang of disappointment and embarrassment. I had really messed things up this time.

"Wait, y/n! Let me at least help you clean up!" I called out after her, but she just shook her head and kept walking.(╥_╥)

I watched her go, feeling like a total failure. Why did I always have to be so clumsy around her? Why couldn't I just be normal for once?

As I sat back down at my desk, I couldn't help but wonder if I had just blown my chances with y/n. Had I scared her off for good?

I sighed and buried my face in my hands. Why did I always have to make things so complicated?(ﾒ﹏ﾒ)

Until next time, diary...

TAGLIST 🏷️ @sixflame438 @saysirhc @trovao-penguins @drvirgus @glassypze @idkwhatim-doinghere101 @wintersgff @somedaydream @yxlis @artrizzler19 @haerinkisser @gtfoiydlyj @stareaa @sseulforgii @yjiminswallet

[sleepypanda01]

CB theories/Thoughts part 4 (maybe people are not the only ones good at disguising their true nature)

In this part I want to talk about the keys. I find it pretty interesting that Silver was found in a book at the library, while Bronze and Goldie were at the flea market. Why is that? But before we try to answer that question,I would like to bring attention to something else.It is also worth mentioning the state the keys were in when they were found. Silver was cracked but clean, while Goldie and Bronze were covered in dirt. What is more, is that Silver did not have her keyring on,but Goldie and Bronze did.

This implies that Silver was most likely used recently,while Bronze and Goldie haven't been used in a while and went missing before Silver. This supports the theory I suggested in the previous part—Nox and Violet are not forced to work with ex libris. Either ex libris is not active or the old man got hold of the keys. Either way it is very possible that the old man is not actually a member of Ex Libris.

What all of this could possibly mean?

If we take into consideration these little details, they point to the possibility of Silver knowing Nox. In the previous post I mentioned that Nox and Violet were not strictly restricted and they were also awake, which goes against the methods of ex libris. We can assume that Silver was under similar circumstances because of the missing keyring and her clean condition,but of course there's also the possibility of Nox or whoever left Silver in the library removing her keyring.

You know what else is just as interesting as suspicious? All the information that Silver tells Chase once she is fixed. Of course this also serves the narrative as it gives information to the readers,and the information she provided is very important. Thanks to her we know that Ex Libris are the ones that created the keys and the clues she provides help us create an image of the order. 

So what do we know about ex libris and their treatment toward the keys?

We know that the keys were very restricted to the point they were rarely in their person form and they were kept Very securely in the library. 

But it's strange isn't it? What's strange,you may ask? Silver's first reaction to when she gains back her conversational form and how different it is from Bronze and Goldie's reaction.

 Once Silver gets fixed, one of the first things she does is introduce herself and proceed to ask if Chase is an Ex Libris member.I find two things suspicious here. Why would she get into the trouble of introducing herself? Ex libris is her creator and its members would know who she is. Moreover,she said that the keys were always kept in the library and I doubt Chase's room could be mistaken for a library room.

What makes her reaction more suspicious are the reactions of Bronze and Goldie after awakening. Bronze says "They finally let us out for a bit, finally." While Goldie says " what luck, I trust you slept well." Both of their reactions show that they have been asleep for a while and expected to still be at the hands of Ex Libris. Their assumption is that ex libris awoke them as they do once in a while, they didn't feel the need to ask any of the humans in the room whether they are a member of ex Libris. Why? Because it is a given to them, of course they believe they are at the hands of ex libris,because that's where they were the last time they were awake. 

Moreover, Goldie makes a remark about the place and says that Ex Libris has opened some windows. He realised that there was something different about the room and pointed it out, unlike Silver who didn't make any comments about the room. Plus,Goldie says " I am indeed the great hero key, Big Gold." He doesn't exactly introduce himself like Silver did,he rather confirms that he is the hero key because he expects the humans to know who he is.

In short, Silver's reaction makes me think that she could have been somewhere else before meeting Chase and that she knew Chase isn't an ex libris member,while the last place Goldie and Bronze were seems to be indeed the ex libris library. Why do I think that? Let's take another look at the information Silver provided.

-The keys are not aware of time passing because they are asleep due to the keyrings

-The keys were kept locked up tightly

Now let's see. Both Bronze and Goldie had keyrings on them and were under the impression that they were still at Ex Libris headquarters, clearly not aware of either time passing or their surroundings. Plus,they were covered in dirt, implying that they have not been used in a while. Their circumstances match the description of the circumstances Silver provided. Guess who doesn't match that description though. Nox,Violet and Silver. That's who. Both Nox and Violet are keys and not only they don't have keyrings on them,they are free enough to enter books all on their own and make plans. Their conditions do not align with the conditions of keys kept by Ex Libris. As for Silver,she didn't have any keyring on her either when found by Chase, and in dreams by day we see a glimpse of the past involving Violet and some other keys that we see for the first time. It's strange how we don't see Bronze or Goldie but we do see Violet, the one key that is currently with Nox and is awake and not restricted. This could mean that Silver and Violet had not been separated until recently.

Silver said that she and her family have never been apart before,but that doesn't make much sense. Bronze and Goldie's state shows that they have been with Ex Libris before ending up in the market,but Silver was left in the library deliberately and their circumstances are very different.

My theory is the following. Nox is held captive by the old man who took over the former ex libris headquarters and has 8 keys in his disposal while there are 4 keys missing. The reason why I think so is because in dreams by night, we see Nox in a locked coffin which could symbolise his imprisonment. Later we see Nox running away and passing by a door with eight locks similar to the lock in his coffin. Then we see four lines marked in his chest. If we add up the numbers of the lockers and the lines on Nox's chest the final number is 12, just as many keys there are. If the 8 locks represent the keys that the old man has,then the lock in Nox's coffin represents his situation of being a key and the four lines symbolise the keys that need to be replaced. Nox has the number 2 on his back, meaning that he might be the second of the four people replacing one of the missing keys. His moon symbol on his back as a key indicates that he is replacing the villain key because the moon is the opposite of the sun which is the symbol of the hero key.

 From all this we can come to the conclusion that three of the four missing keys are the following:

-Bronze because he was found with a keyring in a market 

-Goldie for the same reason as Bronze 

-the villain key because Nox is replacing him

And the fourth is a key whose identity we don't know yet.

I don't think Silver is the fourth missing key for reasons explained above, but in short it's because she must have been with Nox and Violet until recently and as I said in part 1, I believe they were the ones who put Silver in the library.

Do I think Silver has been lying to Chase? I do think that Silver knows more than she lets on. Just like Nox,she could be misleading Chase by mixing the truth with lies, altering the truth or deliberately leaving out some stuff.

Silver is smarter than she appears,it is easy to underestimate her due to her very kind demeanor, but she is capable of keeping things to herself. Just like the time she didn't mention that Chase needed all the key to make a wish. Why would she do that? She said she was afraid that Chase wouldn't believe her,and this makes me think that she is not as trusting of humans as she appears to be,and it is totally justified considering how the keys have been mistreated all their lives by humans.

My point is that Silver is not as naive as she might seem. The first thing she does when she meets Chase is to apologise for using the narratonin to fix herself. She seemed worried as if she didn't know how Chase would react to that. Maybe she thought he would be angry at her and was afraid of the consequences. Maybe Silver has been wary of Chase just like Bronze was but she didn't express it openly, that could be part of the reasons why she didn't mention that Chase needs all the keys.

In part 2 I mentioned that I have a theory about Violet and Nox's goal. I can't imagine exactly what their final goal might be, but in general I assume that it must be to stop the old man and free themselves. But how? First they need Nox to turn into a human again,but he would need narratonin and the keys for that and oopsie—he is a key now so he can't gather narratonin and 4 keys are missing. How will they overcome those obstacles?

By leaving Silver in the library for someone to take her,earn narratonin for Nox and find the keys for them. Silver was found with a paper that had instructions but maybe giving guidance to the key holder was not the only purpose it served. Doesn't the key pictured in the page Chase have look like the key stuck in the page that Nox came out of? 

Silver said that it shouldn't be possible for Nox to follow Chase into books,but there could be a spell developed that allows it. Maybe whoever touched the paper and used Silver to enter a book activated some sort of spell, allowing Nox to follow them into books. Silver was meant to be tracked in books so Nox could get into the same books as her key holder and steal the narratonin, since he can't earn his own. If Silver is directly involved in Nox and Violet's plans,her job must have been to earn narratonin for Nox and find the missing keys with the help of her key holder—who is Chase.

At this point, I would like to talk about Chase's perspective on villains back in the beach boys arc. Chase shared his opinion of how doing bad things does not necessarily mean that you are a bad person. I think this might not only apply to Nox,but also Silver. 

I think either Silver has been directly involved in the plans of Violet and Nox,or connected the dots and realised who Buddy is and what he is after but kept quiet. This is reinforced by the following clues:

-Bronze is actively trying to identify Buddy and what is the deal with this dude. He doesn't seem to have any idea about who Buddy may be,he is in the dark just like Chase and Deacon.He tests things to find answers and even warns Chase that he should be careful because people can be deceiving and this brings me to my next point.

-As soon as Bronze says that some people are good at disguising their nature,the panel cuts off to Silver writing a letter to Violet. Could this be coincidental, deliberate or Punko trolling us? All choices are possible but if it was foreshadowing then it adds up. Silver decides to write Violet a letter after seeing Chase being really down due to his mom's condition worsening. Why didn't she think of writing a letter sooner? When Bronze was found,for example? Here's what I believe. Whether Silver is involved in Nox and Violet's plans directly or simply keeps things from Chase,she has come to care for Chase and wants to help him save his mom because she can sympathise with the sentiment of wanting your family to be safe, that is why she decided to reach out to Violet now of all times.

 Also, there was a high chance that Nox would be mad at Chase for keeping Goldie's existence a secret.It isn't really the best idea to ask favors from someone who is mad at you,yet Silver didn't seem to fear that her letter wouldn't get to her sister. Maybe because Silver knew Nox would deliver the letter since it is from her? Serving as more proof that she and Nox might know each other.

Also, there's one more thing Bronze could be right about. If Nox was the one who left Silver in the library,then he does know their location. He might not know the exact address but he knows they are in Sugar springs and is indeed biding his time cause currently he is in no place to do anything.

Finally, remember how I said there are two other keys missing? I think one of them was found by someone and that person is behind the flyers that are looking for the keys. I like to think it was Simon. I don't have many clues to back up this theory other than Simon being busy during the day of dance practice and not getting into details. He only says that something came up. Surely,if I were to discover a magical key that allows me to enter books I would also forget everything else I was supposed to do.

Furthermore,If Simon is that black haired guy we saw in episode 46,he seemed a bit interested in the books Chase had.

Plus, remember back in the early Chapters how Chase also had the Idea of putting up flyers offering a reward in order to find the keys?This is why I think it's not Ex Libris behind the flyers,but a normal citizen and most likely a friend of Chase, because we must have been introduced to them for a reason. I like to imagine that Simon is another key holder and that he and Chase are besties who share the same brain cell which is why they both had the same idea about the flyers lol. 

Overall I think Nox and silver are kinda secretive and careful with what they say. For example, back in the beach arc Nox asked Chase if Deacon was there too,but in reality he already knew the answer and not only that, but he also knew his name by that time.

I think Silver's letter will be very important to how things will play out from now on. If we assume that Nox and Silver have been using Chase so far,they certainly have a change of heart now as they have come to care about him.Besides, even if Silver has been keeping things from Chase, I doubt she would be as cruel as to give him false hope of saving his mom.

Bonus detail: When Silver had a nightmare, we see Violet asking about the whereabouts of someone who is implied to have been taken away by force. I assume she was referring to Nox and this must have been the point where the procedure for his key transformation started, which explains why Silver avoided answering Chase’s question.

This turned out VERY LONG, so if you stayed till the end, thank you so much for your time. I seriously might be overthinking and what I said could turn out to be a bunch of nonsense. CB is such an exciting story and I am very curious to see what will happen next. I would love to hear what you all think!

[superkooku]

Ok, I started off by commenting this but now I want to reblog so I can add more thoughts.

I already said that Basil deserves better in my opinion (with a bit of humor too), but that doesn't mean I think he's faultless, just that getting murked by the person you love is horrible.

But this love isn't a healthy normal one, but rather the kind OP described.

Basil was obsessed with an ideal of perfection that just didn't exist. He valued Dorian's appealing appearance over anything else, including the MANY red flags that were all in his face.

He saw how Sybil took her own life right after Dorian went to talk to her, how all these people who met him saw their lives ruined and yet, when he finally recognized them, he went all "I can fix him". (Because he was pretty. That's it.)

This book is a tragedy. And like all tragedies, everyone involved is flawed (and interesting to read about). It's just that some flaws are more in your face either because the character appears more or because these flaws are just more blatant. Dorian fits both criterias but that doesn't remove our good ol' painter's imperfections.

Listen, I think Henry should open his mouth less often. But saying Basil is pure just doesn't really fit, imo.

Was it romance ? Probably (100% one-sided though). A healthy one ? No. For neither of them, even though Basil ultimately got the short end of the stick.

(also, that bit about Dorian wanting emotional validation is something I didn't notice yet. Well observed)

One of my Dorian Gray hot takes is that there was absolutely nothing in Dorian and Basil's relationship that was healthy. I keep seeing posts like "Basil's love for Dorian was so pure, that's why the portrait was so pretty and the real villain of the story is Wotton because he corrupted it"

As I see it, yes, Wotton did corrupt him, but saying Basil's feelings for Dorian were pure is simply inaccurate to the story. Basil says himself he merely sees Dorian as an artistic ideal [Dorian Gray is to me simply a motive in art. I find him in the curves of certain lines, in the loveliness and subtleties of certain colours. That is all; ch1] and admitted he (a 10 year older man, who had power over him) tried to isolate him from other people and "keep him to himself". Furthermore, Basil also plays a big role in the way Dorian sees himself and his beauty, by painting him everyday and not maintaining any conversation with him, he's indirectly reaffirming what Wotton tells him: people only care about you because you're pretty and young. There is also this scene from the second chapter:

Dorian Gray turned and looked at him. "I believe you would, Basil. You like your art better than your friends. I am no more to you than a green bronze figure. Hardly as much, I dare say.

The painter stared in amazement. It was so unlike Dorian to speak like that. What had happened? He seemed quite angry. His face was flushed and his cheeksburning.

"Yes," he continued, "I am less to you than your ivory Hermes or your silver Faun. You will like them always. How long will you like me? Till I have my first wrinkle, I suppose. I know, now, that when one loses one's good looks, whatever they may be, one loses everything. Your picture has taught me that. Lord Henry Wotton is perfectly right. Youth is the only thing worth having. When I find that I am growing old, I shall kill myself."

Hallward turned pale and caught his hand. "Dorian! Dorian!" he cried, "don't talk like that. I have never had such a friend as you, and I shall never have suchanother. You are not jealous of material things, are you?-you who are finer than any of them!"

Dorian is even dealing with a suicidal ideation over what Wotton has told him and the way Basil sees him, he needs emotional validation, he's asking to be told there's more than him than that, and Basil's reaction is just─ no. You're prettier than any other object (indirectly comparing him to one, too).

Basil's view of Dorian influences how he sees people as much as Wotton's. For example, to Dorian Sybil was only what she pretended to be, he loved her performance, her acting, how she did exactly what the public wanted (which can apply to Dorian himself), not the real her. She was only an artistic ideal to him, she meant to him exactly what Dorian meant to Basil. He ignored her desires, pain and everything not related to what he wanted to see, since that's what he's been taught he must appreciate.

I also disagree with the interpretation of the portrait as a "pure" reflection of Basil's love (I would personally rather describe it as an obsession, though) and Dorians soul because it's not. At least not entirely. Part of the point of the book is that everyone only saw the part of Dorian they wanted: the portrait represents Basil's idolized version of him, what he wanted to see and how he refused to see Dorian as a person instead of an artistic ideal. That's why he tried to make him redeem himself, because he hated seeing his version of Dorian shatter into pieces. It was never Dorian entirely, not even after aging terribly because that's the result of Basil and Wotton's influence. The portrait was not his soul, it was a modified version of it other people played with because nobody cared about the whole thing, and the influence was so big those parts became his whole being. So it was just an idolized, molded version at first but turned into his real self with the time and the sins. Dorian's soul (the portrait) was constructed upon what others appreciated about him, so when Wotton motivated him to sin, because Dorian's potential to be terrible was what mattered to him, it became ugly and terrible. There was absolutely nothing pure about that portrait since day 1.

[mingi-s-dimples]

Strictly Confidential - San

~"Hiii❤️Can you pls write one where you are the mafia San’s lawyer, but since you are kind hearted and innocent ( not naive) he got his eyes on you??Corruption kink, (iffff it’s ok with you reader can be a virgin), dirty talk (including how much he was longing for you and waiting to take you), mild bondage, possessiveness, (reader has a crush on San too but wouldn’t think San would even look at them), pampering reader while ripping them into half <3 thank youuu❤️" ~ sweetie you also added sth about pregnancy but unfortunately I don't write those😞 but I loved the idea so I just didn't add the pregnancy talk ^^ hope you like ittt 🤍

pairing: ceo!san x lawyer fem!reader

genre: filth, 18+

summary: your outfit is *just* a little bit too revealing for San to not react.. and later that evening, he drops on his knees for you, then he ruins you.

wc: 5.5k

warnings: ceo!san, possessive san, slightly controlling san, corruption kink *just slightly*, reader is a virgin, restraining/light bondage (her hands tied up with san's belt), office sex, he doesn't even bother to take her skirt off, san's desperate, he eats her out, multiple orgasms, cursing, dirty talk/degradation (slut), praising (good girl), ass spanking, face pushing (into the desk), pounding *literally*, vaginal sex, teasing, unprotected (booo use protection irl!), completely consensual!, for sure forgot something, might edit later.

Author's Note: why do I feel like this one is written better than my last San request..? either way y'all will see I DAMN enjoyed writing this one 😂 the detailssss sjsjshsuushs controlling san sjshshshs possessive san ajsjshhs and so on I'm biting my knuckles as we speak. I hope you all enjoy it ^^ ly guys 🎀

Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction and does not represent the reality of the member in any way.

You should’ve known the outfit would push him too far.

It wasn’t intentional—at least, not at first. The silk blouse, a shade too light, clung in ways that weren’t entirely professional, the top button left undone just enough to hint at something softer underneath. The skirt hugged your waist, cutting off at mid-thigh when you sat, revealing just a sliver more skin than usual. It wasn’t indecent. It wasn’t against the rules. But it was enough.

Enough to make Choi San snap.

You’ve been his lawyer for months now—long enough to know that he watches you more than he should. Long enough to catch the way his gaze lingers when you speak, dark eyes dropping to your mouth before flicking back up as if he didn’t mean to. Long enough to hear the shift in his voice when he says your name, the slow drag of it on his tongue.

You’ve known, and you’ve played along—just a little. Just enough to keep things interesting.

But today, something is different and you feel it the second you step into his office.

San is already standing, a rare thing given that he usually prefers to remain seated behind his desk, lazy and composed, as if the world itself is something he can toy with at his leisure. But now, he’s braced against the edge of his desk, arms crossed, eyes pinned on you the moment the door clicks shut behind you.

His silence is thick, crackling with something dark and unreadable.

Slowly, you set your leather portfolio onto the desk, tilting your head ever so slightly. “Something wrong, Mr. Choi?”

The corner of his mouth twitches, but it isn’t a smile. It’s something sharper. “Come here.”

A demand, not a request.

You raise a brow. “I thought we had business to discuss.”

“I won’t repeat myself.”

It’s a warning. A test.

And you should say no. You should keep things professional. You should sit in the chair across from his desk like you always do, open your portfolio, and get straight to business. But you don’t.

Instead, you take a step forward. Then another.

San stays perfectly still, watching, waiting, as if savoring the moment. When you finally stop in front of him, barely an arm’s length away, you can feel the warmth radiating from his body, the scent of leather and spice wrapping around you like a slow-burning fire.

He tilts his head, studying you like a puzzle he’s about to dismantle. Then, his eyes drop—slow, deliberate.

Your blouse. Your throat. The delicate slope of your collarbone. The soft curve of your chest where the undone button reveals just a little too much.

His jaw tightens.

And just like that, you realize—he’s been holding himself back.

For months, he’s played this game with you, circling, waiting, indulging in stolen glances and veiled innuendos. But today, you’ve tipped the scales. Today, you’ve worn something that makes him forget to be careful.

San exhales through his nose, almost like he’s amused, almost like he’s irritated with himself. Then, without warning, he reaches out.

Fingers curl under your chin, tilting your face up.

“You did this on purpose.” His voice is low, rougher than before.

You don’t flinch. Don’t waver. Instead, you smile—slow, knowing. “Did what?”

San laughs, but there’s no humor in it. “Cute.”

His thumb brushes over your jaw, barely a whisper of a touch, but the intent behind it is unmistakable. He’s testing. Measuring.

And you let him.

Because for all his power, for all his control—he’s the one unraveling.

His gaze dips to your lips, lingers there. When he speaks again, his voice is even lower, dangerously smooth.

“You walk in here looking like this and expect me to behave?”

“I expect you to be professional,” you say, and you make sure to let the words drip with teasing, with something that is not quite innocence but plays at the edges of it.

San hums. “Is that what you want?”

His fingers trail down, brushing the column of your throat.

You don’t answer.

Not with words.

Instead, you tilt your head slightly, just enough for his thumb to press against the hollow of your throat. Just enough to let him feel the pulse beneath your skin.

San stills.

Then—he moves.

One hand splays against your hip, gripping, tugging you closer until you’re barely a breath apart. His other hand trails up, slipping beneath the loose collar of your blouse, fingertips skimming over bare skin. It’s barely a touch, barely anything at all—yet it sets every nerve alight.

“You’re not as innocent as you look.” His voice is dark, laced with something dangerously indulgent.

You smile, lashes lowering just slightly. “I never said I was.”

San’s grip tightens.

And for the first time since you stepped into his office, you think you might have miscalculated.

Because you’ve been teasing him for months. Playing at the edges of this, knowing he wanted you but never letting him have enough to tip the scales.

But now?

Now, you can feel it—the shift, the moment he decides.

He isn’t going to let you play anymore.

You should resist.

You should step back, put distance between you and the man currently pressing you into the edge of his desk like he has every intention of keeping you there.

But you don’t.

Not really.

Instead, you let your hands press against his chest, the silk of his dress shirt warm beneath your fingertips. It’s a flimsy excuse for protest, a barrier that does nothing because you both know—if you really wanted to stop him, you would.

San catches the movement, and for a moment, he stills.

Dark eyes flicker to yours, sharp and assessing, scanning your face for something—hesitation, uncertainty, anything that might make him reconsider.

You arch a brow, lips curling just slightly. “A little desperate, aren’t we?”

San exhales sharply through his nose, and then—he laughs.

Low, rough, almost wrecked.

And then he moves.

Faster than you expect, pinning you between the hard edge of his desk and the even harder press of his body. His hand slides up, fingers catching your wrist, pressing your palm flat against his chest. The other settles low on your waist, fingertips digging in just enough to make your breath hitch.

“You have no idea,” he murmurs.

Your heart stutters.

Because you’ve had a crush on him for months.

Ever since you first met him, ever since you realized the sharp-edged CEO persona wasn’t just for show. He was powerful, ruthless, magnetic in a way that made people obey without question. And yet, he’d always been just a little different with you. Always watching, always waiting.

But you never let yourself believe he actually wanted you.

Not like this.

Not enough to snap.

San must see something in your expression, because his grip tightens. “You think I haven’t noticed?” His voice is smooth, but there’s something else beneath it—something rough, something frayed. “You think I haven’t seen the way you play with me?”

His lips brush against your cheek, not quite kissing, not quite touching, just a slow, maddening drag of heat.

“You walk into my office every week, looking like you don’t belong in a place like this, looking like you shouldn’t be anywhere near men like me.”

His mouth ghosts over your jaw, just shy of where you want him.

“And yet…” His hand slides lower, fingers teasing over the fabric of your skirt. “You always let me get too close.”

A slow, teasing exhale against your skin.

“You’ve been testing me, haven’t you?”

Your breath catches, but you refuse to give him the satisfaction of an immediate response.

So instead, you tilt your head ever so slightly, forcing him to drag his lips against your skin in the process. “Maybe,” you whisper.

San curses under his breath.

And the next second he’s kissing you.

Hard. Desperate.

It’s not soft, not tentative—it’s months of restraint snapping like a live wire. His hand slides up, tangling in your hair, angling your head back to deepen the kiss, to take more. His tongue parts your lips, claiming your mouth with a hunger that makes your knees weak.

He kisses like he owns you. Like he’s been waiting for this, for you, for far too long.

Your fingers curl into the fabric of his shirt, pulling, clawing, needing more.

San groans against your lips, and then he’s pulling back just enough to look at you. His pupils are blown wide, his lips are red from kissing you, and he looks completely, utterly wrecked.

“I’ve waited for this.” His voice is rough, frayed with something unspoken. “You think I didn’t notice you? That I didn’t feel it every single time you walked through that door, acting so fucking innocent, knowing damn well what you were doing to me?”

His fingers tighten on your waist, like he’s barely holding himself back.

“I wanted to ruin you the moment I met you.”

Your breath shudders.

San notices. Smirks.

“Is that what you want, sweetheart?” His voice dips lower, teasing. “You want me to take what you’ve been tempting me with?”

You shouldn’t say yes.

You should make him work for it.

But the way he looks at you—the way his body presses against yours, the way his fingers trace slow, maddening circles over your hip—has you completely undone.

So instead, you breathe, “Yes.”

And that’s all it takes.

San makes a sound—something dark, something pleased—before his lips crash back against yours, hungry and unrelenting. His hands are everywhere, gripping, pressing, mapping out every inch of you like he wants to memorize it.

He kisses down your throat, sucks a mark into your skin, groaning when you arch into him. “Mine,” he murmurs against your collarbone. “You don’t get to tease me anymore. Not after this.”

You shudder, nails digging into his shoulders.

And then, finally, you surrender completely.

San doesn’t hesitate.

One moment, you’re standing against his desk, breathless from the force of his kiss, and the next—his hands are gripping your waist, lifting you with ease. A gasp slips past your lips as he sets you down onto the cool wooden surface, the shift in height making you acutely aware of how much he towers over you.

The movement sends half the contents of his desk crashing to the floor. A pen rolls somewhere unseen. Papers scatter in a careless mess. He doesn’t care.

Neither do you.

Not when his hands slide up your thighs, spreading them just enough to make space for himself between them. Not when his mouth crashes back onto yours, all heat and teeth, breathy and desperate, like he’s trying to devour you whole.

It’s overwhelming.

The way he kisses you—possessive, unrelenting, like he’s been starved for this, for you. His hands grip your waist, fingers digging in as if he’s anchoring himself to you, as if letting go isn’t an option.

And you—

You kiss him back just as fiercely.

Your hands find purchase in his suit jacket, tugging him closer, needing more, gasping softly when he presses flush against you. His warmth, his scent—everything about him consumes you.

Then—

You break away.

Not because you want to, but because there’s something you need to say.

Your chest rises and falls, lips kiss-bruised, head spinning. San doesn’t move away, his forehead pressing against yours, breath hot against your lips.

“What?” His voice is wrecked, strained with restraint he’s barely holding onto.

Your fingers tighten against his jacket.

“I—I’m a virgin.”

San stills.

Completely.

You watch as his expression shifts—dark eyes flickering with something unreadable, something dangerous. His grip on your waist tightens for a second before he stills again, as if forcing himself to process what you just said.

Then—

He exhales sharply, running his tongue along his bottom lip, and the slow, wicked curl of his mouth makes your stomach flip.

“Fuck.”

The word is low, rough, dragged out like he’s savoring it.

His hands move again, sliding over your thighs with newfound purpose, fingertips teasing against your exposed skin. He leans in, lips grazing over your jaw, down the column of your throat, tracing the shape of you with agonizing precision.

“You’re serious?” he murmurs against your skin.

You swallow hard, nodding.

San lets out another rough exhale, then pulls back just enough to meet your gaze. His pupils are blown wide, his expression dark with something unreadable, something deeply, deeply pleased.

“You have no idea,” he says slowly, deliberately, “what that does to me.”

Your breath hitches.

His lips find yours once more, but this time, the kiss is different. Slower, more calculated, yet no less intense. He kisses you like he’s savoring the moment, like he’s memorizing the way you taste, the way you respond to every touch, every shift of his body against yours.

His fingers trail up, reaching the buttons of your blouse, and he undoes them one by one, exposing more of you with every slow, deliberate flick of his hands. He doesn’t rush.

No—San takes his time.

And you let him.

Your breath stutters when he pushes the fabric aside, revealing bare skin, delicate lace. The cool air makes you shiver—or maybe it’s just him, the way his gaze darkens as he drinks in the sight of you.

He curses under his breath.

His fingers twitch like he wants to touch, to claim, to devour.

“You’re beautiful,” he murmurs, voice thick with something reverent, something wrecked.

And then—

He starts undoing his own buttons.

The sight alone has you utterly mesmerized.

You watch, transfixed, as he shrugs off his jacket, as he unbuttons his dress shirt, revealing inch after inch of smooth, sculpted skin. He moves slowly, almost teasingly, as if drawing out the moment just to watch your reaction.

And you—

You can’t help but stare.

San is unfairly gorgeous.

Broad shoulders, toned muscles, a physique that looks like it was carved by gods themselves. The way the soft glow of the office light catches against the lines of his body, the dips and curves of his abdomen, the sharp cut of his collarbones—it's intoxicating.

And then, your gaze drops lower.

And you freeze.

Oh.

You swallow hard, suddenly feeling the full weight of his cock straining against his pants and pressing on your body.

San catches your reaction, and the smirk that pulls at his lips is nothing short of devastating.

“Mesmerized?” His voice is low, teasing, laced with amusement and something else—something darker.

You don’t answer.

Can’t.

Not when the heat of his body is so close, not when his fingers are still trailing over your skin, slow and deliberate.

And then, he leans in, lips brushing against your ear as he whispers—

“You should be.”

San watches you like he’s already won.

Like you’ve been his from the moment you walked into his office, oblivious to the fire you were playing with.

His fingers trace along your exposed collarbone, slow and teasing, barely touching, but enough to make your skin prickle with heat. His eyes drag over you, dark and ravenous, taking in the way your chest rises and falls with every breath, the way your thighs are still parted for him, your skirt hiked up from how recklessly he had pulled you onto his desk.

Then—he smirks.

That slow, knowing smirk that makes something in your stomach coil tight.

“You really have no idea what you’ve done, do you?” His voice is deep, smooth as silk, but there’s a sharp edge to it.

You swallow, fingers curling against the desk, but you don’t answer.

He tilts his head, almost amused. “Showing up dressed like that—” His hands slide down, fingers skimming the fabric of your skirt, teasing at the hem. “Looking so damn innocent but wearing something like this? You were begging for it.”

Your breath catches, a slow heat creeping up your spine.

San leans in, lips brushing against your ear as he whispers, “Such a little whore, dressing like this just to test me.”

A sharp inhale leaves you.

He chuckles darkly, dragging his lips down to your neck, pressing an open-mouthed kiss to your skin. “Did you think I wouldn’t notice?” His tongue flicks against your pulse point, his teeth scraping just enough to make your breath hitch. “Or were you hoping I’d lose control?”

His fingers tighten on your waist.

“Because you got exactly what you wanted.”

Your head spins.

He’s too much—his voice, his hands, the way he’s looking at you like he’s about to ruin you in ways you never even imagined.

San pulls back just enough to meet your gaze, and something dark flickers behind his eyes.

Then—

He gets an idea.

His smirk deepens as he looks over your shoulder at the discarded mess on the floor. Then, before you can question it, he steps back slightly, reaching down.

A soft rustle of fabric, the quiet slide of leather—

And then you see it.

The belt he had discarded with his pants that pooled at his ankles.

Your stomach flips.

San runs his tongue over his bottom lip, holding the belt loosely in one hand, testing the weight of it. Then, he meets your gaze again, and for the first time since this started—you shiver.

Possessive.

That’s the only word for the way he looks at you now.

Like you belong to him.

Like he’s about to make sure you never forget it.

“You’ve had too much freedom tonight,” he murmurs, stepping back into your space, the belt dangling from his fingers. “And I think it’s about time we fix that.”

Your pulse spikes.

San reaches for you, his hands trailing down your arms before he gently—so gently—grabs your wrists.

“Give them to me.”

It’s not a request.

It’s a command.

Your lips part slightly, but when you don’t immediately respond, San hums, tilting his head. “Oh?” He smirks. “Are you hesitating now?”

He presses closer, making you lean back slightly, making you feel the solid weight of his body.

“That’s cute.”

You swallow hard, the heat between you becoming unbearable.

San’s fingers tighten ever so slightly around your wrists. “I’ll tell you right now, sweetheart—” His voice dips, eyes locked onto yours. “If I tie you up, I’m not letting you go anytime soon.”

A slow, deliberate pause.

Then, he leans in and whispers against your lips—

“You sure you can handle that?”

Your breath is shallow, chest rising and falling as San watches you, waiting. His fingers tighten around your wrists, the belt still dangling from his hand, ready to bind you, ready to claim every inch of control you’ve willingly given up.

And you—

You should hesitate.

You should resist, tease him a little longer.

But you don’t.

Instead, you tilt your chin up, meeting his gaze with a slow, deliberate smirk. “Do it, then.”

A flicker of something dark—dangerous—passes through his eyes. Then, his smirk returns, sharp and satisfied. “Good girl.”

The leather is cool against your skin as he pulls your wrists behind your back, looping the belt around them with practiced ease. It’s not too tight—just enough to hold you there, to remind you who’s in control.

He tugs once, testing the restraint, then hums in approval. “Perfect.”

Before you can process the way your body reacts to that single word, San moves.

His hands slide to your thighs, gripping firmly as he pulls you forward.

Hard.

A gasp leaves your lips as your body jerks, dragged right to the edge of the desk. Your legs part instinctively to accommodate the shift, your breath catching as you feel the undeniable heat of him between them.

San watches your reaction with a lazy smirk. “That’s better.”

Then—

He drops to his knees.

San doesn’t even look away from you as he does it, his movements deliberate, dripping with control. The sight alone—his broad shoulders between your legs, his dark, hungry gaze looking up at you like he’s about to devour you whole—leaves you breathless.

And then—his hands move again.

He doesn’t bother with your skirt.

No.

He slides his fingers along the inside of your thighs, parting them further, his grip firm—possessive. Then, with agonizing slowness, he hooks his fingers into your panties and pulls.

A soft, humiliatingly wet sound follows as he drags the fabric down, exposing just how ruined you already are.

San freezes.

And then—

He chuckles.

A low, deep sound that sends heat shooting straight through your spine.

“Fuck,” he exhales, pressing his thumb against the now-soaked fabric before tossing it somewhere behind him. “Look at you.”

Your face burns, but the way he’s looking at you—with pure, unfiltered hunger—makes shame the last thing on your mind.

Then—he leans in.

And without another word—

He dives in.

San doesn’t hold back.

The moment his mouth touches your folds, a wrecked gasp escapes your lips, your bound hands straining against the belt as your body jerks from the sheer heat of it.

He groans against you, the vibration making you shudder. His grip on your thighs tightens—bruising, possessive—as he presses you further against his mouth, like he’s determined to ruin you.

And he does.

His tongue moves with devastating precision—slow, languid strokes, teasing flicks, then firm pressure against your clit that makes your head spin. He eats you like a man starved, like he’s waited his entire life to have you like this, legs trembling around his shoulders, breathless and undone.

“Fuck,” he rasps, pulling back just enough to look at you. His lips glisten with your arousal, his dark eyes heavy-lidded, wrecked with hunger. “So fucking sweet.”

Your face burns, but before you can process it, he’s back on you, his tongue pressing in deeper, his fingers digging into your thighs to keep you still.

A broken whimper leaves you.

San chuckles—dark, teasing. He pulls back again, dragging his lips over the inside of your thigh, pressing slow, wet kisses against your skin. “Look at you,” he murmurs, voice dripping with amusement and something deeper. “Fucking soaking. And all for me?”

You whine, shifting against his hold, but he doesn’t let up.

His teeth graze your thigh, just enough to make you gasp. “You pretend to be so innocent,” he murmurs, voice thick with heat, “but look at how filthy you are. Spreading your legs so easily, letting me taste you like this.”

Your breath stutters, shame and arousal tangling into something unbearable.

San hums, satisfied. “I bet you’ve thought about this, haven’t you?” He flicks his tongue against your clit again, making you jolt. “Bet you’ve thought about me bending you over this desk. Tearing you apart.”

His words wreck you.

A high, needy moan spills from your lips, your bound hands clenching behind you.

San groans against you. “That’s it,” he breathes, his tongue moving faster now, pushing you closer, higher. His fingers dig into your thighs as he holds you down, refusing to let you escape the pleasure he’s drowning you in.

Your body tightens, the pressure coiling in your stomach unbearably, winding, winding—

Until it snaps.

A sobbed moan rips from your throat as your orgasm crashes over you, wave after wave of blinding pleasure. Your thighs tremble around his shoulders, your back arching as you cry out, utterly wrecked.

San doesn’t stop.

Not until you’re whimpering, twitching, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes from the overstimulation.

Only then does he slow, his tongue giving you one last, languid stroke before pulling back.

He looks ruined.

His lips are swollen, his hair slightly disheveled, his breath ragged as he stares at you, utterly transfixed. Then, he leans in, pressing a lingering kiss to your thigh before standing.

Your dazed gaze drops—

And your breath catches.

His briefs are painfully tight around his cock, the sheer size of him making your stomach flip.

San curses under his breath, yanking them down in one swift motion.

And then—he’s on you.

His hands grip your thighs, spreading you further as he aligns himself, the heat of him pressing against your still-sensitive core.

Your breath stutters. “San—”

He doesn’t wait.

With one slow, deliberate thrust, he pushes inside—

And you break.

A cry rips from your lips, your body arching at the sheer stretch, the way he fills you so completely, so overwhelmingly. Tears prick at your eyes from the intensity of it, from the way he buries himself to the hilt, not moving, just feeling you.

San groans, his forehead pressing against yours, his hands tightening on your waist. “Fuck, baby.” His voice is wrecked, trembling with restraint. “You feel so—” He exhales sharply, dropping a kiss against your lips, almost tender.

He soothes you.

One hand trails up, cupping your cheek, his thumb brushing over your skin. “Breathe,” he murmurs, voice soft, but his body trembles against yours, barely holding himself back.

And then—he moves.

Destroying you.

Every thrust is deep, dragging against your sensitive walls with devastating precision, pushing you to the brink of insanity. Your bound hands twist behind you, desperate for something—anything—to hold onto, but there’s nothing.

Nothing but him.

And he knows it.

His grip tightens on your waist as he pulls back, making you feel every inch of him, before sinking in again—so deep, so full that you can’t stop the moan that spills from your lips.

San groans, the sound low and wrecked. “That’s it, baby,” he murmurs, dragging his lips along your jaw, kissing—nipping. “You hear yourself? You're a fucking whiny mess just for me.”

Your face burns, but the humiliation only makes the pleasure worse—makes your body clench around him, desperate for more.

San feels it. And he looses it.

A sharp growl rumbles from his chest as his pace stays agonizingly slow, but his words turn filthy, raw. “You’re so fucking tight,” he groans, rolling his hips deep, making you cry out. “Like you were made for me.”

You are.

The thought is dangerous, but it lingers.

San notices.

His fingers trail up your stomach, his touch warm, teasing, possessive. His other hand cups your jaw, tilting your face toward him, forcing you to meet his gaze. His eyes are dark, ravenous.

“You don’t even know what you’ve done to me,” he murmurs, his thumb brushing over your kiss-swollen lips. “Wearing that little outfit—acting all innocent when you’re dripping for me.”

His hips snap forward, a little harder, and you gasp.

San smirks. “Mhm. That’s what I thought.”

The teasing should make you flinch, should make you want to shy away—but you don’t.

Because you love it.

Because you love him like this—feral, corrupted, completely obsessed with you.

Your moans break into whimpers as his thrusts turn deeper, sharper, but still so slow, so cruelly controlled that your body starts trembling. “San—”

He shushes you.

His lips brush over your temple, soft in contrast to the way he’s utterly wrecking you. “I know, baby,” he murmurs. “I know.”

And yet—

It’s not enough.

For him.

For you.

San curses under his breath, frustration clear in the way his fingers tighten on your waist. “I can’t—” His breath is ragged. “I can’t fucking hold back.”

Before you can process—

San moves.

His grip locks around you, lifting you like you weigh nothing. Your back hits the desk, but before you can fully catch your breath, he flips you over.

Your palms slam against the your back, the belt still binding them, your cheek pressing into the cool surface as San forces you down, arching you for him.

A sharp sound echoes in the room.

You gasp.

San’s palm stays on your ass where he just spanked you, rubbing over the heated skin, his breath heavy behind you. “Mhm,” he hums, dark, pleased.

He leans in, lips brushing your ear.

“That’s more like it.”

Your body is trembling—wrecked, pinned under San’s weight as he presses you against the desk, his grip firm on your waist. His breath is heavy, hot against your skin, his patience fraying with every second.

And then—

You say it.

A teasing little whisper, breathless, barely a murmur—

“San.. you can go- harder.”

A guttural growl rips from his throat, and then—he ruins you.

His grip tightens bruisingly on your hips as he slams into you, deep and relentless, each thrust sharp, overwhelming, making you choke on your own moans.

He pounds into you, his cock pushing impossibly deep, so deep that— He hits your cervix.

A sharp cry tears from your throat, your bound hands clenching behind you as the intense stimulation sends a wave of pleasurable pain crashing over you.

San hears it. Feels it. Loses it.

“Yeah?” he rasps, voice wrecked, his pace punishing. “You wanted this, didn’t you?” He thrusts harder, making you wail. “Wanted me to break you?”

The way he’s holding you—gripping your waist tight, pressing you down deep into the desk, his chest flush against your back as he fucks into you like he’s starving—

It’s too much.

He feels the way you tremble beneath him, the way your body clings to him, drawing him in, taking everything he gives.

His breath is ragged, his groans turning into curses.

“Fucking perfect,” he growls, his thrusts becoming desperate. “So fucking tight, so fucking wet—”

He grips your wrists, still bound behind your back, and pulls, arching you further, making your back bow into him, making you yake him deeper.

A wrecked sob escapes you.

San curses. “That’s it,” he groans, his voice breaking. “Fucking take it.”

He pounds into you, hips snapping, rhythm frenzied, his cock hitting that spot over and over until you’re a mess beneath him—whimpering, crying, begging.

And you could swear he fucking loves it.

“Listen to you,” he pants, his lips brushing over your ear, his breath ragged. “Crying for me—so desperate.”

You are. But he’s no better.

His grip tightens, his thrusts turning frantic, his moans growing shaky, and you can inly feel how damn close he is. And he knows it.

His pace falters for half a second—just long enough for him to lean over you, his lips grazing your ear as he breathes, voice dark, rough, possession dripping from every word—.

“I’ll fill you up just like you’ve probably been fantasizing over for a while, you little slut.”

And then—

He breaks.

A deep, wrecked moan tears from his chest as he thrusts deep, his body shuddering violently as he spills into you, warmth flooding your insides as his grip on your wrists turns almost bruising.

But he doesn’t stop.

Even as he comes, he keeps moving, keeps pounding into you, pushing you over the edge right after him.

Your body shatters.

A high, sobbed moan rips from your throat as pleasure crashes over you, your walls tightening, pulsing around him, drawing out his own orgasm, making him groan, curse, whisper filth and praise against your skin.

You gasp his name—

And San loses himself all over again.

His hips slow, his body shuddering as he rides both of you through your highs, his lips pressing against your shoulder, your spine, soothing you while still wrecking you.

You could barely move.

Your arms are still bound, your body limp against the desk, your breath coming in ragged, exhausted gasps.

San finally stills.

His chest rises and falls against your back, his grip on your wrists loosening, his breath hot against your skin.

And then—

A satisfied, dark chuckle rumbles from his chest.

“That’s my girl.”

San exhales, his grip softening as he slowly lifts you into his arms, cradling you against his chest. His hands are gentle now, his touch the exact opposite of how he just wrecked you. With careful precision, he sets you down on the desk, his fingers immediately moving to untie your wrists.

The moment they’re free, he brings them to his lips, kissing the delicate skin as if to soothe away any marks left behind. His gaze meets yours, still dark, still possessive, but now filled with something softer.

A smirk tugs at his lips. “Can’t have you walking out of here looking like this, baby.”

Before you can respond, he grabs your blouse from where it was discarded, slipping it over your shoulders, his touch slow, careful, reverent. His fingers linger as he buttons it up, his eyes roaming your body like he’s memorizing every inch of you.

Then, he leans in, kissing you.

Deep, slow, lingering. Like he’s still not ready to let go.

When he pulls back, his thumb brushes your lips, his voice a low murmur. “Come on,” he says. “We’re taking a shower.”

Your brows raise slightly. “Here?”

San chuckles, shaking his head. “Not in the office, baby.” He eyes you, his woman, his masterpiece, before smirking. “And I’m sure as hell not letting anyone see you like this on our way there.”

You laugh, amused by his protectiveness, and his smirk widens.

“Laugh all you want,” he muses, scooping you up again. “But you’re mine. And I don’t share.”

NETWORKS:

@blossomnet

@illusionnet

PERMANENT TAGLIST:

@mingleshine @musiclovingfairy @crazylittlebisexual @sanhwalvr @artistic-rendition @hongjoongtime117 @cypher-03 @peachy-bell26 @atiny1 @my-atiny-kookie-rkive @atzlordz @chai0tea @miyaluvvsyou

[k1ng-ej]

Can you dooooo

Reader coming on there cycle in bed and the slasher thinks there bleeding out or smtn until they explain it to them?

Allll fluff, you could do headcanons or a specific slasher if you want

Slashers reaction to you starting your period

(Michael, Thomas, Vincent)

Note: excuse this if this a little sloppy, i planned on doing a few other slashers but then i didnt feel like it lol. mental exhaustion is real! anyway, i hope you enjoy <33

Michael

It was a rare night where Michael was sleeping in your bed, he usually doesn't sleep at all or chooses to sleep in the guest room or on the couch in the living room. You don't know why he did that, but you never forced him to come and sleep in your bed, not wanting to overstep boundaries. Michael is a complicated man to understand, and you don't want to push his buttons too much.

You nestled against him, your head comfortably resting on his chest as you basked in the warmth he emanated. You appreciated these rare moments with Michael, especially because he kept you warm on the coldest nights. After what seemed like an eternity of tossing and turning, you finally climbed out of bed, intending to get a glass of water. Just then, you heard the sound of Michael shifting, turning to face you.

"I'll be right back." You smiled, taking a moment to admire his mask-less face. From where you stood, he looked like just a normal man, his brown curls that laid perfectly on his forehead, the slightest dark bags under his mismatched eyes, and the way he laid in your bed, he didn't look like a man who has tormented your small hometown known as Hadonfield.

Just as you were about to turn around, a strong hand seized your wrist. When you looked back, you saw Michael propped up in bed, staring at you intently. His expression remained blank, but there was purpose in his movements. He drew you closer, lifting your shirt as if searching for something specific. When he couldn't find what he sought, he gently tugged at your shorts.

"What are you doing?" You questioned with a confused chuckle, looking down at yourself. Michael grabbed the bottom of your shorts and pulled them so you could see. You had apparently started your period, you completely forgot to keep an eye for that this week.

"Oh." You figured that was what Michael was looking for, the source of the blood that now stained your favorite pajama shorts.

Michael looked to you, and tilted his head. You figured he was probably never educated about this subject, you wondered how you would explain it to him.

"It's my period, I get it every month. It's normal so there's nothing to worry about." You explained carefully. "I mean, the only thing you'd have to worry about would be my mood swings." You joked with a giggle. Michael only blinked at you, you didn't know if he understood, maybe he didn't care.

Then, he gave you a subtle nod, one you almost missed if you hadn't been staring at him. You assumed he got what you said, so you left it at that.

Thomas

Thomas shook you awake in the middle of the night, his concern evident. Groggy and disoriented, you sat up and rubbed your eyes, mumbling some indistinct words of annoyance.

"What's wrong, Tommy?" You asked as you shivered, noticing how cold it suddenly was. Oh, the blanket had been pulled off.

Thomas pointed to your legs, and you noticed a small blood stain underneath of you. You quickly realized that as your period. Thomas appeared slightly unsettled, leading you to wonder if Luda Mae had ever discussed periods with him. Before you could clarify, he began examining your body for any signs of injury, which made you chuckle. You found his concern adorable.

"Thomas, i'm okay. It's just my period, it's something that females get every month. it's nothing bad." You clarified, a faint smile resting on your lips. Thomas stopped checking your body, giving you a confused look.

"I promise. It doesn't even hurt me. Well… kind of but it's not that serious." You hoped you weren't making Thomas more confused than he already was, but when he stopped furrowing his brows you assumed he understood what you were explaining to him. YA sigh escaped your lips as the reality set in: you needed to change out of your stained pajamas and replace the bedsheet. You longed to have slept in and postponed this chore until morning, yet you couldn't fault Thomas for his concern about your wellbeing. He prepared a swift shower for you to freshen up while he took care of the bedding. Once the chores were done, he made sure you had a restful night, holding you tightly against his chest until the early hours of dawn.

Vincent

You went to bed after Vincent mentioned he would be up a little later, immersed in his work on wax sculptures. This was a frequent situation, even though you often encouraged him to join you, insisting that he needed and deserved the rest. While you wholeheartedly supported Vincent in his pursuits, it always troubled you when he sacrificed sleep for his art.

You had woken up to the sound of shuffling, probably Vincent finally coming to bed. You didn't know what time it was, but you couldn't even be bothered to open your eyes to check. You felt a gentle nudge, Vincent's way of telling you to scoot over so he could get into bed as well. You grumbled before eventually scooting to the other side of the bed, you waited to feel the bed dip, indicating he laid down. But it never came.

Instead, Vincent was shaking you awake, it seemed urgent.

"Hm? Is something wrong Vinc?" You mumbled into the pillow, looking at him through an eye. In the dark, you could barely make out him signing to you.

"What?" You finally moved your face to fully look at him, worried by his seemingly panicked signing.

'You're bleeding. What happened?'

"I'm bleeding? What do you mean?" You furrowed your brows, unsure of what he was talking about. You hadn't been around any sharp objects recently, and you didn't have any old wounds that could be reopened. Vincent then gestured to the bed, you sat up and realized what happened. Where you laid previously had a blood stain on the sheets, you already knew your pants would be stained too.

"Awh… I got my period." You frowned, huffing from your nose. Your least favorite time of the month. You felt bad for staining Vincent's sheets, making a mental promise to yourself that you'd get it out tomorrow morning.

'Period?' He signed, tilting his head. He still seemed worried about you, you could see it in his body language by the way he leaned toward you and slightly reached his hands out to you. You knew he wanted to check you for any wounds, something he did quite often because you were very clumsy and often got scrapes and cuts, which he would patch up for you.

"Yeah, yeah. It's just something girls get every month. I get cramps and whatnot. Sorry for staining your sheets."

'Cramps? Anything else?'

"Uhhh, food cravings, mood swings." You shrugged, starting to scooch off the bed. Vincent took your hand and helped you up, then started leading you toward the bathroom. "Where are we going?"

He didn't respond as he released your hand and knelt beside the bathtub, turning on the water and testing its warmth with his fingers. You had always known Vincent to be thoughtful, consistently showing you kindness and tenderness. However, you never anticipated him starting a bath for you in the middle of the night.

"Oh, Vincent, you didn't have to." You smiled warmly at the gesture, feeling grateful to have a significant other like him.

[valeriley]

Headcanon that Arthur's weirdly ugly yellow tie is a gift from Eames.

I mean, based on what we saw of his wardrobe, it doesn't really match his usual style, and yet here he is, proudly showing it off with no jacket or waistcoat to hide it (thanks for noticing @thenwhatthefukcisthis).

Maybe Eames gave it to him as a sort-of-joke one day, claiming Arthur’s wardrobe needed a bit more color, but didn't really expect Arthur to wear it. And to his knowledge he never did.

But Arthur is a sentimental fucker and so he wears it from time to time even though he doesn’t really like it, especially when he misses Eames, because it reminds him of him and makes him smile when he sees it... But also never when Eames is there too for fear of giving himself away.

Till inception.

I choose to believe finally wearing the tie so that Eames could see was a statement in and of itself. And paired with Arthur's charged "Eames, I am impressed" it makes for a subtle yet powerful declaration.

No wonder Eames was so thrown 😁

[dorabellingham]

Darling, are u ready?

warning: sexual intentions

characters: jude x fem!reader

summary: where later spend a lot of time admiring you he decides to take an initiative

may contain spelling and translation errors!

It was a quiet night in Madrid, and your apartment was immersed in an almost magical calm. The soft light of the living room illuminated the environment, while the open windows let in the distant sound of the city, mixed with the warm spring breeze. You were on the couch, dressed in cotton shorts and a strap blouse, loose, which showed the delicate curve of your shoulder. Your bare feet were resting on the arm of the sofa while you read a book, totally unrelated to the world.

Jude was in the kitchen, finishing putting away the dinner dishes. He watched you from afar, his eyes darkening as he studied without you noticing. The way the golden light reflected on your skin, the lazy curve of your lips as you turned the pages of the book - everything seemed to hypnotise you. He couldn't explain, but there was something that night, something in you, that made him feel like you were living in a dream that he never wanted to wake up.

He dried his hands on the towel and walked to the couch. You noticed his presence only when he stopped next to you, his eyes moving from the book to find his. There was something in his eyes that made his heart race.

-Are you going to stay there ignoring me while reading this book, or do I have to do something to get your attention?

He provoked, his voice low, with a hoarse tone that sent chills down your spine.

You smiled, closing the book and putting it on your lap.

-You always have to dramatise, Jude. I was waiting for you to finish playing chef.

-Play chef, hum? -He repeated, with a crooked smile. Jude leaned over you, resting one hand on the arm of the sofa while the other slid lazily down the side of your body, lightly touching your uncovered waist. -And what do I get for it? At least a thank you kiss?

Before you could answer, he approached, his lips hovering millimetres from yours. You felt his hot breath against your mouth, and when he finally kissed you, it was slow, deep and deliberate. You let the book fall to the floor while wrapping your arms around his neck, pulling it closer.

Jude took advantage of the moment and pulled you to stand up. You stood up, laughing against his lips, but he didn't seem willing to make room for any protest. In a quick movement, he pressed you against the wall next to the sofa. You gasped with the surprise, but the smile at the corner of your mouth showed that you were far from wanting to stop.

His hands slowly slid down your waist, going up under the strap blouse you wore.

-You know, right, sweetie? -Jude whispered, his voice hoarse and full of desire. -You're so beautiful that it hurts.

You felt your face heat up, even if you were already used to his sudden statements. Jude had this unique talent of making you feel like you was the only thing that mattered in the world.

-You say that just because you want something, Bellingham.

You answered, trying to sound playful, but the accelerated breathing and the way his hands touched you said something else.

He laughed low, his head tilted back before looking at you again, his dark eyes shining.

-Maybe I want to, but that doesn't mean it's not true.

With delicacy, but at the same time with a contained urgency, Jude pulled your blouse up, revealing the curve of your skin. He stopped for a moment, his eyes sweeping every inch before raising his hand to undo the bra closure. His touch was confident and gentle, and you felt your heart race.

When he finally spoke, the voice came out almost in a whisper:

-Are you ready for more, darling?

You bit your lip, feeling a mixture of nervousness and excitement. Jude had this power over you - the way he made you feel desired, as if it were the only thing in the world that mattered. You held his face with your hands, pulling him closer and murmured against his lips:

-I always am.

Your words seemed to set something on fire inside him. Jude bent down slightly, wrapping uou in his arms as he lifted you off the floor. You laughed, surprised, but didn't protest while he carried you down the corridor towards the bedroom. The sweating filled the air, and he couldn't contain the smile while looking at you, the messy curls and the expression illuminated by laughter.

He gently placed you on the bed, leaning over you while his lips sought yours again. The breathing of both was heavy, and the room seemed to be on fire with the energy that enveloped them. Jude drew a line of kisses through your collarbone, your hands exploring every centimetre of skin, while you closed your eyes, lost in the moment.

You pulled Jude closer, burying your hands in his curls while he muttered something against your hot skin - words in perfect English that at that moment, you could barely understand, but that sounded like poetry. And when he finally met your eyes again, everything seemed to stop.

-You are everything, Y/n. -He said, with such a raw sincerity that it made your heart tighten in your chest. -And I will never let you forget that.

[beneathsilverstars]

people are wondering about loop in the au where the party stops siffrin from using the dagger in dormont and the ensuing conversation breaks the loops so let's see...

Siffrin would still want to go see Loop first thing afterwards, but everyone else would be verrry worried about him going off alone. He tries to inconspicuously wander off but Isabeau is immediately like, "Heyy buddy where are you off to? Mind if I come with?" Siffrin feels guilty for selfishly making everyone feel obligated to not leave him alone, and getting them all worried about an issue that isn't even what it looked like. So he's kinda hoping they won't be so worried about him now that they've beat the king and decided to stay together... but he's also afraid that if they stop worrying, they'll decide, okay, no need to stay together after all.

But luckily Siffrin doesn't have to sort all of that out right now, because they know Loop has complicated feelings about the party and doesn't want to see them, so they know they have to go by themself if they want a chance of talking to them.

They try to play it casual, "I'm just going to the favor tree, you don't have to come with me." But two can play at surface-level manners so Isabeau says "I want to, though, it's no trouble!" Siffrin doesn't want to refuse him point-blank, but they really want to talk to Loop... so they go back and forth another time or two before Isabeau's like "Look. You understand why I'm worried about you suddenly going off for no apparent reason, right? On your own, when you've been glued to my side for the last half hour? I... I don't want to stop you,'' (Does that mean that he wouldn't? Or that he would, but he'd be sorry about it?) "but I would feel a lot better about it if you brought someone with you? Doesn't have to be me. Or at least explained why you're going...? Sorry, I know it must be so annoying to have to explain your every move, but... it's been less than a day, since. y'know. And I'd be... I just want you to stay safe."

And oh, Siffrin hates that he's made Isabeau so upset, that he messed up so bad yesterday and that he's making it worse right now, that he's made him so concerned over nothing. So he hesitantly, carefully explains, "There's someone I want to talk to. at the favor tree. I... talked to them there yesterday? And. they might be there again today, but. they definitely won't talk to me if any of you are with me." And, okay, it's reassuring that Siffrin has a reason, and it doesn't even seem he's lying, but. Isabeau can't help but be worried anyway. Especially because this is apparently someone Siffrin talked to at right about the same time that he started acting weird, yesterday? What if this person made Siffrin feel worse, what if they did something that pushed Siffrin over the edge??

But he knows that's edging past reasonable concern into paranoia, so he just asks, "Would it be alright if I walked you to the edge of town at least? Since you're still kinda woozy, and, that way I'll be in earshot if you need me...?" And Siffrin agrees, very relieved to have found a compromise and actually glad for the continued company. And it occurs to them that Isabeau might be less worried about them if they didn't have their dagger on them, and, the day has already been saved... So he gives Isabeau his dagger, along with a promise that he's not gonna do that, and Isabeau does seem happier!

So off they go through Dormont. Isabeau stops farther back on the path just a bit before the bend, where he won't be able to see Siffrin or overhear casual conversation, but could definitely hear a shout and coming running. And Siffrin goes to the tree, and sees the coin, and... twohats ensues! The dialogue is somewhat different, though, because they never did entirely figure it out in the end, did they? They had started learning about wish craft, but Loop hadn't quite connected it yet and of course Siffrin refused to look at their own wish. And then, what a dramatic final loop!

So. More along the lines of, "That was it? Really? You just had to kill yourself in front of them to get everything you ever wanted? To break the loops? To never be alone again? To guilt them into staying forever, because they think you're going to slit your own blinding throat if they let you out of their sight? Sure! Whatever it takes! Never let anyone tell you suicide threats don't work~" and "Do you know how many times I killed myself? How many more times I died?? Did I just not do it right? Wrong time, wrong place? Did I not suffer enough? Was I not selfish enough? What did I do wrong!! Why do you get to escape and not me! I deserve this happy ending, not you!! Why do you get to stay with them and not me!!!"

But, hm. Loop was kinda really raising their voice there at the end, weren't they?

Loop's voice still sounds a bit odd — part inhuman form, part new habit, part intense emotion — but, they're not putting active effort into keeping up the mask right now. Not when they're this upset. Not when Siffrin already knows. And Isabeau hasn't seen Loop yet; he just heard their voice. And a couple of the things that voice said.

So Isabeau makes it around that corner while Loop is speaking more quietly. And then Loop says "STARS, killing you will make me SO HAPPY," and Siffrin reaches for their dagger and freezes as he realizes and remembers it's gone, and Isabeau speeds up, and Loop looks up and see him and freezes too.

And Isabeau says, "Sif?? I thought you promised you weren't going to kill yourself over here???"

Long story short, Loop panics and runs, Siffrin follows while shouting things trying to convince them to come back, so of course Isabeau follows too, and Siffrin almost collapses because they're still craft exhausted. Loop gives up and lets them catch up, and I do mean gives up, they just wanna lay down and die, if you can't go out with a bang there's nothing wrong with a whimper. But Siffrin and Isabeau refuse to leave them there, so they wait around and talk at them, and then run out of things to say and wait some more. Eventually Mirabelle finds them and she's very upset and glad they're okay, and at that point Loop gives up on giving up and quietly follows them back to Dormont, so Siffrin won't get himself more sick and all his friends more worried, staying out in the forest all night.

And so! The party knows who Loop is from the very start, but not anything about the time loops! Just that something very strange must have happened, to end up with two Siffrins and one of them a star.