#this is my bf guys

[nyukaart]

Bird boy!!

[hellspawnmotel]

intimacy between an evil spiteful building-sized supercomputer and the lone scientist left behind after everyone else ditched and forgot about her (in which computer wants to kill scientist really bad but her programming wont let her so she just attempts to make her as miserable as possible instead, which also doesn't work because scientist is a freak)

[heavenbarnes]

anyways, as i was saying about older bf!simon and his willingness to please learn

pt 2 to this

“you ever heard of a nut video with sound on?”

obviously, he hasn’t- far as he’s concerned, if you haven’t told him about it then it doesn’t exist to him.

no skin off your nose, you’d spend the rest of your life teaching him about the ‘latest trends’ if it meant he kept sending those filthy fucking videos to your phone.

(your favourites on tiktok were purely filled with ideas)

he’s holed up in a remote location, killing time till he can be home and actually do something to you rather than send you a bloody video about it.

your instructions come through clear and concise, just how he likes:

“it’s what’s written on the can, si- you can pick the setup but i just want to see you cum and, most importantly, i want to hear it”

you’re lucky simon is such a practical guy and maybe you could thank price one day for making him so good at following orders.

when he’s got his alone time he’s setting his phone up to record on the edge of the window sill, moonlight fighting through the curtain to illuminate him.

he’s lost the bulkiest of his gear, down to his tactical trousers and a compression t-shirt. the images in his tattoo sleeve almost move when the light catches them right.

balaclava on (the one that just shows his eyes above the painted image of a skull) and he’s standing up to undo his belt (that you think looks like an airplane seatbelt).

you can hear his boots against the floorboard as he steps back to give you the full view of him undoing his trousers, taking his sweet time because he knows it drives you fucking batty.

he’s so big that the phone is working overtime to get all of him in the frame but you see exactly what you need to- thick thighs at your eye line and massive hands drawing down his fly.

on (you assume) the other side of the globe, you’re at home in your shared bed and you’re propped up right in the middle with the smell of simon engulfing you as you watch the video play out before you.

(if you’d thought about it you should’ve cast it to the bedroom tv, hoping the neighbours didn’t mind)

simon sits back down with his legs spread wide, one hand gripping his thigh as the other rubs himself over his boxers. his eye contact with the camera was fucking intense, like you’d hoped, just like when he’s on top of you.

he’s dressed in all black and the moonlight is obscured but you can still see him firming up in his pants. his eyes flutter, an infinitesimal amount but you’ve been tuned into his every move since you met him.

your thumb leans hard on the volume up button and you can hear the diegetic sound of the building expanding and that usual technical hum that comes with a video. but at this pitch, you could hear him.

his breathing was chopped, chest expanding visibly as he pulled his cock out into clear view. jeeeeesus christ, it was never something you just got used to.

long, reasonably straight, fucking thick. even his hand struggled to make it look smaller as he wrapped around it, giving one dry tug.

as he closed his palm over the tip, you saw him make a swipe before he brought his hand back down considerably smoother than before. you’d had your hands down his pants enough times, man leaked like a fucking faucet.

simon’s head tipped back as he started to pull himself off, balaclava raising just enough to expose some of his throat. if you were there you would be perched in his lap, letting him do the work but running your tongue under the lip of the fabric.

one of the best things about the videos simon sent was, he didn’t really understand how sexy he was. he didn’t think any of the videos particularly watchable so he’d just send them on first take. if you liked them, you liked them- yours was the only opinion that mattered.

what that meant was, you never got b-roll. everything he sent you was unbridled perfection. captured exactly as it happens with no faffing about.

always whatever you’ve asked for, whenever you ask.

(simon’s nothing if not inexplicably obedient)

he brings his hand under his chin to spit into the wide span of his palm, wrapping back around his cock and tugging. his foreskin moved over the head, rolling back down and thick veins bulging under his grasp.

you’d almost forgotten the conditions of your request, totally fucking enamoured by the sight in front of you when it caught you off guard.

a guttural moan ripped out of simon’s chest as he twisted his wrist.

his free hand moved to cup his balls, big and heavy, he rolled them in his palm as another groan sounded out of him. what you wouldn’t give to be knelt between his thighs with the whole lot in your mouth.

you knew how much of an ask this was, you really had to work him up to making noise when it was just you two in bed. these days? you couldn’t shut the man up when he was balls deep and his face was buried in the crook of your neck.

but this was another step, this was him on his own with his crew just through the walls. he’d be a plain liar if he said there wasn’t that rumbling trepidation in his chest. he’d put it to bed though.

all he had to think of was you, one hand gripping your phone and the other between your thighs as you watched him through with a hazy smile- that kept him going.

with the thought still heavy on his mind, you didn’t have to strain to hear your name drift off his lips. his hips bucked into his hand as he did, speeding up the motion of his strokes.

you were going to black out, his tattoos flexing and his chest expanding with every stuttered breath. simon looked like a god among men and he fucking sounded like one too.

“fuck, sweetheart- you’re so fucking filthy giving me orders like this”

your cheeks were burning, he wasn’t wrong but you weren’t expecting him to call you out quite like this.

“what does that make me? always so fucking eager to do what you say? make a dirty old man, yeah?”

wheeeeeew that’ll do it, your thighs snapped together around your hand as your eyes nearly rolled back in your head. whenever you thought you couldn’t take any more, he was always there to do you one better.

“only for you, pet- you can always get whatever you fucking want from me”

and you knew he was serious, that’s what made it all the more debilitating. simon was unshakeable, you’d seen him go out of his way to defy orders if he didn’t think the person worth his time.

when it came to you? you could tell him to kill and he would.

(he probably had)

simon’s hips were twitching, back arching in a way he’d rather die than have anyone else know about. his mouth was hanging open beneath the balaclava, your name and a string of expletives falling off his tongue.

so quick you nearly missed it, the hand that was cradling his balls moved to grip the fabric of his shirt and push it up his toned front. you couldn’t call his abs cut and defined, there was aged layer to them, but they were undeniably there.

you’d rested your head on them, pressed your palms against them, even ridden them enough times to know they were there. regardless, he looked fucking perfect under the moon glow as he stroked himself hard and long.

eyes locked onto the camera, broken moans on his lips, you saw his hips lift one last time as thick spurts of cum began to paint his stomach and chest.

scars illuminated under the night sky, mirrored by shiny patches of hot cum splattered across the same stretch of skin. the hairs on his chest were matted with sweat and were now being splashed with how far he was shooting.

you could only watch with your mouth hung open as he tugged himself through his orgasm. soon it was only the sound of his laboured breathing, chest rising and falling as he tucked his soft cock back into his pants.

just when you thought that was it, you found one of his hands lifting up the edge of his balaclava till his lips were exposed. two fingers of his other hand swiped up some of his spend before he lay them on his tongue.

knuckles in your mouth, biting down to suppress a scream, simon readjusted his clothes as he stood and took a heavy step towards the camera.

one hand braced on the window sill, the other gently gripping himself through his trousers- his voice was so fucking gravely it could’ve reverberated round your room.

“what’s next sweet’art? you name it, it’s yours”

[seumyo]

thinking about the aftermath of the final war with bakugou.

It’s more often that you and Bakugou are the only ones left in the dorms after the war. The others chose to go back to their homes when the school’s implementation of mandatory dorm living lifted, and some decided to stay a little longer.

“Taste this.”

Bakugou raised a brow but didn’t protest as you walked over, spooning some curry towards his mouth. With a slight huff, he leaned forward, lips parting just enough to take the spoon. The moment it hit his tongue, his nose scrunched slightly.

“Careful, it’s still a bit hot.”

“Mild,” he muttered after swallowing. “You could barely even taste the richness of the sauce, too.”

You let out an exasperated sigh, frowning. “Are you serious? I followed your recipe.”

“Still mild; you brought shame to my recipe.”

You gave him an unimpressed look before turning back on the pot. “Wow, then maybe you should’ve been the one cooking here. I’m gonna check what went wrong.”

“I would if I could, dipshit.”

“Just get over here and check, too.”

“Nuh-uh. You said you’d cook tonight.”

“And you’re the one who keeps on complaining that I didn’t do your recipe justice!”

“That’s a fact.”

“Starve.”

He huffed, shaking his head as he went back to his writing practice, but there was something in his expression—something almost amused.

-

Bakugou sat by his study desk, his left hand gripping a pen tightly as he tried to force his stubborn fingers into writing something readable. His handwriting had always been sharp and textbook-pristine penmanship that you could mistake it for being printed, but now, with his right hand still recovering, it looked… awful.

You sat a good distance next to him, watching with an unreadable expression.

“Oi,” Bakugou grunted, not looking up. “The hell are you staring at?”

“Your letters look like a baby bird scratched them out,” you said bluntly, not even bothering to hold back on your words.

He clicked his tongue. “Like I don’t already know that.”

You reached over, grabbing his notebook before he could protest, flipping back to his first attempts from a few weeks ago. The letters were uneven, practically illegible. Then you held it up next to his latest attempt.

“See? You’re getting better.” You turned the notebook toward him. “You can actually read this one.”

He scoffed but didn’t deny it. Instead, he reached for the notebook, but you yanked it away at the last second, grinning.

“You don’t get this back until you admit I’m a good teacher.”

Bakugou glared at you, debating whether this was worth a fight. Finally, he sighed, leaning back against the chair.

“Fine. You’re not the worst teacher.”

“I’ll take it.”

“Don’t get too cocky.”

“Me? Never. That’s more of a you thing and not a me thing.”

“Like hell it’s only me.”

You laughed. “Let’s try numbers this time; I even bought a tracing book.”

“That shit’s for kids,” he scoffed.

“It says three and up,” you argued. “You’re three and up, are you not? And—who knows? Maybe after this you’ll be ambidextrous.”

“Shut up.”

-

“Run.”

That was the only warning before Bakugou grabbed your wrist and bolted.

The sound of rapid footsteps and excited squeals filled the hall behind you. A group of first-year girls was hot on your trail, giddy with the thrill of chasing UA’s most popular second-year student.

“Why the hell do they keep following me?!” Bakugou barked as you rounded a corner, his grip still firm on your wrist.

“Because you’re literally their idol,” you said between breaths, peeking to see as the girls went the opposite direction. “They see you as some kind of bad boy heartthrob ever since the Sports Festival. It’s kinda cute.”

“It’s not cute—it’s annoying!”

You found an empty classroom and slammed the door shut. Both of you stood there, panting. Outside, the sounds of giggling and footsteps faded down the hall, the first-years continuing their search elsewhere.

You let out a breath and leaned against a desk. “Could be worse. They could be chasing you with cameras like the paparazzi did.”

Bakugou groaned, rubbing his temple with his free hand. “Don’t even joke about that.”

You nudged his shoulder, smiling. “You didn’t have to drag me with you, y’know? Or is this an excuse to be alone in a room with me?”

He glared at you, opening his mouth to argue—but then he caught the teasing glint in your eyes and scoffed, shaking his head.

“Fucking idiot. You’d get trampled over by that mob.”

“Sure, sure. I’ll tell Iida to see if he can scout the area to make sure no one’s going to jump at us when we leave.”

You laughed, and despite himself, Bakugou didn’t find it all that annoying. He actually found it... familiar and worth something he can’t put into words.

SEUMYO © 2025. PLEASE DO NOT REPOST, PLAGIARIZE, MODIFY OR TRANSLATE.

[poobirdy]

a lil something sweet for the bingqiu/binggeyuan zine 🔥🥒

[anintrovertedechoe]

no thoughts just hugging mammon with everything you have and crying into the nape of his neck while he hugs you just as tight, just as hard, just as desperately, but also so gently because he’s afraid he’ll break you with how delicate you are right now.

no thoughts just slumping against him after crying out everything left in you and falling asleep while he still holds onto you and kisses the crown of your head because he knows you won’t notice.

no thoughts just his heart breaking because if he had his way he would take your pain onto himself in a heartbeat but he can’t and that’s what hurts the most.

no thoughts just mammon staying with you like that the whole night and checking your pulse occasionally and feeling relieved at it’s presence because it means you’re still here with him.

no thoughts just falling asleep with your first man and having him treat you like you’re the most precious thing in all of the three realms.

no thoughts; just mammon being your rock like he always is.

[bacchuschucklefuck]

class swap design masterpost for convenience (from top to bottom: bard!riz, cleric!gorgug, sorcerer!kristen, barbarian!fig, artificer!adaine, and rogue!fabian)

[naarinn]

Apology video. With tears. NOW

[perryelornitorrinco]

Wars, in the campfire: anyone wanna share a story?

Fucking Wind:

[neishroom]

random pics from my casual gp with my globtrotter sim :]

[farawaywiththefairies]

talking to older men has got me using emojis unironically again😭

[zaqnette]

Of course I want to be babied and pampered, but I also want to take care of him in return. To trace my fingers along his back when he’s stressed, cradle his face in my hands, and cover him with soft kisses. To let him rest his head on my lap, my fingers threading through his hair as his breathing evens out in sleep. To welcome him home with warmth, cook for him, and show my love in the ways I can—spoiling him just as much as he spoils me. ૮꒰ྀི⊃´ ꒳ `⊂ྀི꒱ა

[dixoterin]

💝💝

[carnage-cathedral]

>"cluster b demonization isn't real! you're just making that up because you're attention seeking and wanna be a victim!!!"

>open internet browser

>"how to defeat narcissists" article is on the front page in the health tab

[decarabias]

forever thinking about royal’s bad ending. my thing with it is that maruki doesn’t necessarily give anyone what they want most, he gives them what’s most appropriate for them to want within a maruki-approved framework. iirc there’s a really interesting text sequence in the game where he just straight up changes someone’s career because they’re not “good” at it, regardless of whether that’s what they actually want. why struggle at all? ever? right?

and so ultimately i don’t think goro akechi’s greatest wish is necessarily ren. i think it’s a wish for sure, but his greatest wish is his own agency. despite any regrets he has and the fact that shido and yaldabaoth treated him like a pawn, he's generally pretty adamant about owning his choices and their consequences. he doesn't want that erased. and instead, you end up with pleasant boy™ if you take maruki’s deal. maybe maruki (incorrectly) thinks sanding off all of akechi’s rough edges will make him easier for ren to love. but the crux of it is really that maruki has to essentially lobotomize him to preserve the illusion of his perfect reality, because their ideologies are so diametrically opposed that akechi would spend every waking moment fighting back.

this isn’t to undermine ren’s importance to akechi btw — he explicitly acknowledges that he wishes they had met earlier, and there are countless moments throughout their confidant that underscore how much it means to him that they mirror each other so well. he absolutely does want more time with ren, just not under these circumstances.

and that’s also what makes ren’s choice on 2/2 doubly devastating. he knows that either way he loses akechi. and if he takes maruki’s deal, he loses him knowing that his last moments with the real akechi involved the two of them being unforgivably out of sync.

[viozzu]

"Yeah so we're not getting the cash-"