#what are you defining as 'obvious' i wonder

[guidaozongshi]

No one can convince me Sasuke constantly asking Naruto why he cared wasn't him searching for a confession. There's a reason why there was a pause before we said friend. It's a popular literary device to indicate uncertainty. People are acting dense on purpose.

In most Shounen or JP media, friendships can be very deep yet straightforward. It is very rare ever to find characters in a platonic relationship who question whether the term 'friends' accurately defines their bond.

Even before Sasuke himself puts forward the question, many characters question Naruto about his fixation on Sasuke , it is obvious that the relationship between them does not fit the norms or definition of friendship even in the setting itself.

I remember seeing this from Japanese users on a 2channel thread, on Naruto's homosexuality. Even though a lot of the users' responses have an underlying homophobia to it, they do acknowledge the obvious.

>The way Naruto and Sasuke are portrayed is not normal no matter how you look at it. But I guess that's just the way it is.

But what I don't understand about Kishimoto is that not all of Naruto's relationships are like that. He can also portray warm and good friendships like Shikamaru and Chouji, Sakura and Ino, Kakashi and Gai etc.

Also, in the manga itself there are a lot of comments like " what on earth are they doing ?" Which makes me think that the author is able to look at things from an objective point of view

They agree that not only Naruto-Sasuke's relationship doesn't fit into the norms of friendship/brotherhood like other characters but that Kishimoto deliberately made it such.

In the Western fanbase, in recent years, even the dudebros are now starting to admit how gay the relationship was, but there are still a lot of people who insist that people cannot conceive of a deep friendship between men and that fujoshis are sullying their relationship. But Naruto and Sasuke's relationship being abnormal is pretty much an accepted opinion in Japan even though it's not discussed as much, it's an open secret.

> I'm wondering why it's so popular overseas, when the love between the men is so intense.

I guess most people got into it initially because of the ninja element.

It has been my favorite anime for many years and it still has support from young people in many countries.

The relationship between these two is too heavy that it is often made fun of, but I can't mention it publicly

I'm wondering if there's people out there who have had similar feelings, although not to this extent.

"why it's so popular overseas, when the love between the men is so intense"

Oh brother. Because they ignore it altogether to focus on one of the worst aspects of the series: ridiculous power creeps and make everything about power scaling.

So yeah, the text quite literally tells us that Naruto and Sasuke's relationship defies the conventions of friendship. By the end, even Naruto drops the label of brothers to describe the relationship even if he had once used it to describe their bond. Naruto then only describes his own feelings but doesn't categorise it and only then Sasuke is satisfied.

[glitter-stained]

The thing about the Killing Joke as a comic, Barbara's disgusting fridging aside, isn't just that it's nasty because it's a comic centered around the Joker's character (which is always gonna be psychophobic since the moment they decided to make "madness" his defining trait) or that it establishes his backstory following a psychophobic trope (especially since that trope is questioned in the story). It's not even entirely about how it blatantly does the amalgam between madness, specifically psychosis, and being evil/doing villainous things.

No, The Killing Joke is vile because the whole fucking point of the book is blaming mentally ill people's weak/evil character for "succumbing" to mental illness.

Like seriously, what happens in TKJ? We learn about how the Joker was "made", and Joker decides to turn Gordon to the evil side by traumatizing him "that's what the One Bad Day" thing is about. So he does a bunch of bullshit, shoots Barbara, strips her naked, might or might not have raped her, and shoots a bunch of pictures of her in that situation, and then kidnaps Gordon, also strips him, and forces him to see huge projections of those pictures. Then Batman comes, and later there's a fight, where Batman tells the Joker that Gordon is fine actually and the Joker is wrong, it doesn't take one bad day to succumb to psychosis as a way to escape reality, there was just something inherently wrong with the Joker specifically that caused him to develop psychosis.

Behold:

"crawl under a rock with all the other slimy things when trouble hits..." (To be clear, this is in 100% response to Joker's statement that psychosis is the valid response to the random brutality of reality, an escape to it. It's not me over interpreting something about villainy, god I wish, the entire comic is about Joker arguing that psychosis is the correct adaptation to a fucked up reality.) Batman is directly calling anyone with schizophrenia, schizoaffective disorder or any other form of psychosis "a slimy thing crawling under a rock when trouble hits." And that's the lesson we're supposed to learn from that! The Joker is wrong! We good people of strong hearts and good minds are normal and good and can pat ourselves on the back for being so much better and more resilient than those nasty little crazy freaks (and the circus freaks, oh my god the circus freaks) who are so cowardly and weak-minded; but look how magnanimous we are! We're still gonna extend a hand to help them crazy freaks once we've established our moral superiority! Because we're good, upstanding cops, and our habit of arresting criminals and putting them in the nastiest fucking asylum which doubles as a horrible prison works! Because we're so good!

Seriously, what is up with that? In what world is the wrongness of this comic not fucking obvious to everyone? Is this really your Batman? Your childhood hero? This is the guy the narrative (and dc in general) tells us we're supposed to be rooting for? How have we normalized psychophobia to the point I regularly see people praising this comic or saying it would have been good had Barbara's fridging not ruined it? No, what happened to Barbara didn't ruin shit! What happened to Barbara is nothing but one more indicator of the worth and respect Alan Moore holds for women in his writing, and I genuinely don't find him any better than Jim Starlin with the way he likes to write sexual assault on women, but the comic was already ruined because its message was already fundamentally disgusting.

And the worst part is it fucking gets worse if you know anything about how schizophrenia (or other schizophreniform disorders) develops. I can't imagine what it's like, picking up this comic as a person with schizophrenia. The suicide risk associated with schizophrenia is high as fuck, and with the way our society stigmatises that disorder, it's no fucking wonder. Reading that kind of book, it feels like some people are actively working to get those figures higher actually. I wonder if Moore is aware of the damage his comic does, if he even fucking cares. I wonder how many people have talked themselves out of getting help because they were afraid of acknowledging their mental health issues and "being like the Joker", or knew they weren't like the joker and concluded they weren't mentally ill. I wonder if people with schizophrenia have read this comic, thought back to the one bad day that lead to them developing psychosis, and wondered what was so wrong with them that they couldn't handle reality the way normal people can. People with schizophrenia are so much more at risk of being verbally or physically assaulted by someone else than of attacking someone else and so much more likely to be verbally or physically assaulted than your average joe. I wonder how many people feel justified in that kind of violence because they see a person struggling with delusions, visibly interacting with a hallucination or saying incoherent, absurd stuff and thought they were heroically intervening to stop a "dangerous psychotic individual" from doing harm. I wonder how much of this perception is influenced by the most famous mentally ill character of all times. Worst fucking comic I've ever read. That story is rotten to the core.

Seriously, fuck the Killing Joke.

[supahstarrr]

sometimes i think its hard for the fandom to have genuine deep conversations about veronika's character because of how much she's flanderized and reduced... but also i think its because of how people interpret her relationship with (horror) fiction being so drastically different from each other.

youll get "she'll be a murderer because she likes horror" (← she could be a murder but how fiction impacted her is way more complicated than that) and then "her character is a clear example of how fiction doesnt affect reality" (← really?) but also "she doesnt think fiction affects reality." (← that is a way more complicated statement than you think knowing we don't even know how she personally defines fiction, but also shes obviously aware of how much myths and lies has an affect on the cast and especially arturo but those things may not be defined as fiction in her eyes). But also due to jarring opinions even among people who tolerate or like her or understand her, unfortunately conversations might get devolved into debates about the relationship between humanity and fiction, but also about fiction itself.

i see the last two statements more often than the first when people comment about her ... i feel like people project how they personally define fiction and think of fiction's impact so much onto her that her character gets lost on them and dont think how much their statements about her lessen the depth of her character. thing is that whatever they will feel about the relation with humanity and fiction theyll need to get over it because its one of the main things that make veronika and arturo clear reflections of each other and contributes plus adds onto her depth

im saying this as someone who do think fiction itself and its impact on the person & society doesnt exist in an vacuum. But I am especially saying this as someone who finds her obnoxious, annoying and very cringe but tries to find her depth despite of my feelings about her.

[metanarrates]

it's actually really weird to me that a lot of adults don't seem to remember the worst bits of being a child. were you not horribly aware of when adults were talking down to you as a child? don't you remember how little autonomy you were allowed, even when it came to things that seemed pretty harmless? don't you remember the times when adults would seemingly be assholes to you for no reason? even if you had nice and reasonable parents, didn't you ever have teachers or other adults in power who treated you disrespectfully? didn't it sting no matter how people justified it?

especially when I was a teenager, it seemed obvious to me & to most of my peers when an adult wasn't treating us with respect. you could almost smell it, in certain classrooms. there would be this palpable, shifting undercurrent of teenage dissatisfaction whenever some teachers started talking. and it made a lot of the kids act out! which of course made the teachers try to exert their power, which never worked because nobody respected them, which made them get more draconian, etc.

as a teen, I didn't really get why my peers and I seemingly had a superhuman sense for when an adult was on a power trip. but now I think I get it. kids are systematically denied autonomy, respect, and consistently have the validity of their experiences denied. like, flat-out. they're a vulnerable class of people made even more vulnerable by their lack of societal rights. being disrespected as a kid is so frequent that I would say it's a defining experience for most children. is it any wonder they tend to pick up on when an adult doesn't see them as worth listening to?

so yeah, of course a ton of kids want to be treated "like an adult." to them, that's synonymous with being treated like a human being worth listening to. it's up to you, as an adult, to understand that wish for what it is, and behave accordingly. you don't gotta be a child psychologist. you don't gotta be perfect at it. all you have to do is remember how painful adult disrespect could be when you were a kid & do your best to act with some compassion.

[erabundus]

I AIN'T NO COWARD TO USE ANON. First of all, the way you capture all the differences between the puppet's stages of life? Chef's kiss. Kabukimono's innocence and wonder, Balladeer's creepiness and grandiosity, Ren's exhaustion and just wanting to carve a spot for himself. All of it is So Tasty to read be it in replies or hc posts. I love to bits how Ren and Aether pull and push each other around every time they interact. And you!!! You're always so nice and easy to interact w/, a delight to see on the dash and your posts always brighten the day a little more w/ all the shenanigans. So v glad we started writing together. ^^

SEND    YOUR    OPINION    ON    ANON

[aliceoseman]

s3 dealt with some more mature themes than s1&2 did, did you struggle with that in any way or did it feel like a natural development for the characters? especially since heartstopper has been praised specifically for being a "wholesome" show basically from the start, did you find it in any way daunting to write (more) sex and alcohol into the show?

(Upon reading this back, I have only talked about sex, not alcohol, very sorry!! Also this gets really off topic but this was the only question I received about sex in the show and I have a lot to say that I just didn't get asked about at all in any promo interviews, so... Here I shall word vomit!!)

Short answer: Yes, I struggled, but not with the writing of the story - just with the general discourse about sex/no sex in Heartstopper, since the beginning of the show.

Long answer:

It wasn't something I struggled with when writing the comic. I always knew that Heartstopper would get to that point - that it would grow up alongside the characters - but the general cultural view of the show as 'wholesome' vs. the criticism of it for being 'puritanical' and 'sexless' has definitely made me feel quite anxious about how these maturer elements would be interpreted by people in the show.

I never saw Heartstopper as 'wholesome' when I started creating the comic. The first chapter of the comic leads to a scene featuring assault, and the story deals heavily with mental health and bullying. The comic has swearing throughout. Whether the story was 'wholesome' was simply not a topic of discourse before the TV show released - I knew it was uplifting and optimistic, of course, but only in the same way that most YA romance stories are. So the public declaration of the Heartstopper show as 'wholesome' - as its defining characteristic and unique selling point - did take me by surprise. I'd had to remove the swearing from the story, but aside from that, I couldn't really understand what was different with the show compared to the comic, and why this was its defining feature. And then of course some of the conversation shifted to the fact that in S1 and S2, there's no sex.

This too confused me. I always felt the sexual attraction between N&C was obvious from the start, and sex itself was introduced into the story at the time I felt was right for the characters, with no real thought as to whether the audience would agree with me. People hardly ever pointed out the lack of sex in the comic - it's very, very normal for YA fiction romances to not feature sex, and in fact, it's actually pretty common for teen movies and shows to not feature sex, certainly when they skew towards younger teens as Heartstopper did in S1 and S2. But for some reason, when the Heartstopper show came around, people really, really noticed the lack of sex, and I was very surprised by that reaction. I wonder if it was because people weren't accustomed to that in queer TV, or if it was because people liked N&C so much as a couple and desperately wanted to see them take that step, or just because people felt it was broadly unrealistic for a teen couple to wait a little while before feeling ready to have sex. Perhaps it was all. But whatever it was, it caused some... outcry!

(I could go into arguments as to whether it is morally correct or generally realistic for N&C to wait before having sex in the story, but ultimately I think people's opinion on that varies heavily depending on their worldview and personal experience, and there's no right answer - people can like it or not like it and that's completely fine, not every tv show is for everyone - but the one thing I would say is that I think it shows young readers/viewers that it's OKAY to not be ready, and how to have that conversation with your partner, and I think that's a really, really good and helpful thing for young people)

Fortunately for those who were distressed by the lack of sex in the show, and for me who was anxious about all of that criticism, I'd been planning for the story to reach that stage pretty soon anyway. It honestly made me relieved that it was going to be introduced, if only to reassure people that I wasn't pretending sex doesn't exist or that I, as an asexual, was spreading some sort of anti-sex agenda (seemed to be a common refrain among those who find it particularly annoying that I'm ace). But mainly - I'd always known this would be a really important step in N&C's journey, and I wanted to do it justice, and I felt I had done so in the comic, but with the TV show came all of those opinions and discourse, so I was much more nervous about it and spent a lot of time during the writing process trying to figure out how people would feel about it. An impossible task, and before S3 released, I had no idea what the reaction would be.

In the end it was pretty anti-climactic - it got hyped up a bit too much in the early promo for S3, and then the general consensus was that the sex in the show was shown with a very light touch, and some people thought that was a good thing and others did not. And people still call the show sexless and puritanical, so it didn't really solve that issue. (I'm just not sure what those people really expected to happen - obviously they are not going to suddenly start fucking on screen in a show that's been previously marketed for the 12-16 age bracket, guys, let's use our brains here) Personally, I'm really proud of how that element of the story turned out. I think the scenes are really beautiful and feel totally right for the tone of the story, and have let the show mature without suddenly becoming an entirely different show.

This has been a long answer but I think what I'm trying to say is this: the 'mature' vs 'wholesome' scale of Heartstopper is something that has never been a topic of discourse for the comic. But it has been front and centre for the show, and certainly is something that has caught me off guard and caused me some anxiety, because I do see the criticism and it does hurt, and at times feels incredibly personal. But at the end of the day, I'm just telling a story, and the things that happen will happen at the time I feel is right for the characters. I just want to tell the story that I've set out to tell, and I intend to keep doing so until it is done.

If we get a S4, and indeed now that I am working on Vol 6, I am thinking much less about how the audience might react to the sex in the story, and am simply just writing/drawing what feels emotionally and dramatically right for the story and characters. And that feels much more creatively freeing!

[taeghi]

wrong number | TEASER

FULL RELEASE : Read here

𓇼 pairing : roommate's best friend!jake x reader

𓇼 summary : a mistaken text might not always be a bad mistake.

𓇼 genre : smut, sexting, nudes. angst, degrading, lots of talk ab being stretched out lmao.

𓇼 wc : probs over 10k

𓇼 taglist???

mdni

your roommate, sunghoon, had just said goodnight to you as you both headed off to your separate bedrooms for the night. there had been a long awaited movie night for the both of you and somehow both of you had managed to stay up so late, that both of you were going to be exhausted for university tomorrow. 

as soon as your head touches your pillow and your blanket pulls up to your chin, your phone vibrates from your nightstand. you sigh, wanting to ignore the notification, but the curiosity of who was texting you after midnight intrigued you so much that you just had to reach over and look. 

unknown : [image.jpg] [12:46]

instantly your jaw drops as you realize what the image was. this was the last thing you had expected from an unknown number. 

in the picture, was obviously a man’s hand covering his apparent large bulge in his black boxers. you could see the tan skin of his defined abs in the light glow of the room he was in. the picture showed up to his neck, his face being cut off. you wondered briefly if his face would have distracted you more than his bulge. 

unknown : [i told you i was good at taking pics, vera ;)] [12:47]

vera? you had no idea who vera was but you were definitely not her and this picture was definitely not for you. after debating on what to do about this mistaken text, another one rolled in.  unknown : [what? cat got your tongue now?] [12:50]

you sigh but decide to answer, your thumbs moving briskly across the keyboard of your phone. sleep completely leaving your mind now as your eyes keep glancing up at the stranger’s picture. 

you : [hey, uh, this isn’t vera? so sorry] [12:50]

it only took a second after pressing send for the stranger’s texting bubble to pop up, indicating that he was typing. your nervously sat up in bed, brushing your hair out of your face. 

unknown : [oh my god i’m so sorry] [12:50] unknown : [my idiot friend gave me this number saying it was this girl vera im so sorry] [12:51]

you chuckle to yourself at his texts, feeling his obvious stress through the screen. his excessive apologies were relaxing you, knowing this wouldn’t have to be more awkward than it was. until, 

unknown : [but you must’ve thought i was good at taking pics too, i mean you stared at the pic for so long ;) ] [12:52]

you had no idea who this was but he was so cocky. but he was so right. you couldn’t take your eyes off of his picture for more than a minute. the angle it was taken at teased you to want to see more of his body. it felt wrong since the picture was obviously not meant for you. but how could you not look at a picture that made him look this good. still, you cursed yourself for having read receipts on.

@ taeghi, 2024. do not repost or reuse in anyway.

PLEASE REBLOG IF YOU ENJOY, AS LIKES MAKE IT HARD FOR WORK TO BE SPREAD AND ENJOYED BY OTHERS :)

stay safe everyone :)

mdni

[mearchy]

On my rewatch of TLOU I realized there were some details that I missed before that help to paint this huge picture about the importance of the preceding Tess/Joel relationship. The first and most obvious is that Joel mentions passingly that he and Tommy met Tess pretty early on, and it sounds like she stayed with him when every other group they were in fell apart, and even when his own brother left. So they’ve been surviving together for at LEAST 15 years, probably longer than his daughter was even alive, which is a length of time I just didn’t fully process before.

We never hear the full goodbye/suicide letter from Bill, but a lot of people have pointed out that over Joel’s shoulder you can see Tess’s name mentioned at least twice at the end — including something about her deciding what to do. We know that basically every time we saw Tess directly interacting with Joel before she died, she was the one giving him directives and making the final decisions. She says outright that he listens to her. This is not a man who trusts fucking anybody after everything he’s been through. But he trusts Tess. She comes up behind him in bed while he’s sleeping, and in a world of raiders and robbers where hypervigilance is a necessity, he barely even stirs.

Now, one of her last lines before she dies is “I never asked you for anything, not to feel the way I felt—“ and he tries to say something and she shuts him down. But here’s what gets me: before that, before they realize she was bit, she turns around and in her dying frantic anger she yells “that is NOT MY HOME!” about the QZ. And it’s like okay… where else could she be thinking about, if she’s spent all these years on the road with different groups, with Joel, and then at least a decade in the QZ? What is she defining as home right now? Why is this correction so intense? And it could be about Detroit, about where she came from and isn’t (apparently) attempting to go back to. But then. But then she turns and she looks directly at Joel. And she’s got the most tragic expression on her face. And I wonder if in that moment Joel knew she meant that he was her home, even if she had never said it that openly before. Wherever he went, she would go. Haring off on a wild chase after his brother across the country? She’s there. She’ll do anything to make it happen. She’ll beg and barter and kill for this truck battery, for a mission she doesn’t even have half the same stakes in. She was his direction and his driving force and a safe place for him, but he was her home.

Thinking about this almost changed the tenor of the remaining story with Joel and Ellie to me. The hospital massacre felt perfectly in character the first time I watched, but when I rewatched with both the Sarah and the Tess story in the forefront of my mind it felt even more fucking inevitable. Joel is Orpheus. This couldn’t have gone any other way. He could never have done anything else. He has failed the two most important women in his life. He has failed a daughter, and he has failed a partner twice over- first by letting her die, and second by letting her die believing she was unloved. How can he fail Ellie now? He has to burn the entire world, tell any lie, just to keep her alive. There is no other option, no other outcome. There is no living Joel post-canon without the hospital massacre.

And the revenge for it will be what kills him.

[haartemis]

CROSS THE LINE | Jude Bellingham

pairing: jude bellingham x fem!reader, unnamed fictional RM player x fem!reader

word count: 3.1k

summary: after a fallout with your boyfriend, you find solace in a spontaneous night at the movies, where you run into his golden boy teammate. one thing leads to another and you cross the line.

A/N: first judith fic!! this was really fun to write. (very loosely) based on guilty as sin by taylor swift. let me know what yall think <3

warnings: infidelity (i don't condone it yall its just fun to write morally gray characters 🫣)

someone once told you there’s no such thing as bad thoughts – that it’s your actions that truly define you.

you wonder what they’d say if they saw you now: sitting up in bed with your boyfriend sound asleep beside you, staring at your phone with a pounding heart, silently hoping, waiting, for a message from someone else.

you wait and wait, but there’s nothing. your home screen stays empty, mocking you. you glance at your boyfriend. his shallow breathing fills the quiet room, steady and oblivious.

he has no idea you came home at 3 a.m. wearing his teammate’s jacket.

you'd stuffed it in the back of your closet as soon as you got home, a relic of a night that shouldn’t have happened. you'd scrubbed yourself thoroughly in the shower, trying to wash away the smell of jude’s cologne that clung to your skin. but it’s still there. not on your skin anymore, but in your mind, stamped into your memory to stay forever. 

the way the flickering lights from the movie theater screen cast shadows on his beautiful face, the fleeting feeling of his warm hands on yours as he handed you his jacket, the full body rumble of his laugh, the feel of his soft lips on yours.

you will never forget. how could you, when that was the first time in months you’d felt seen? desired. wanted. needed. it’s an intoxicating feeling, like stepping into the sunlight after living in the shadows for the longest time.

and now, staring at your phone, you feel it all over again. the pull. the wrongness of it all.

a buzz breaks the silence. your heart jumps into your throat as the screen lights up and a single message appears.

jude: you got home safe?

it’s innocent enough. simple. harmless.

you could ignore it. pretend you didn’t see it. block his number and put an end to whatever this is before it spirals into something else.

but instead, your fingers move on their own accord.

you: yeah. thanks for checking.

you press send before you can stop yourself. you lock your phone and put it on the bedside table before closing your eyes and willing yourself to go to sleep.

to your credit, none of this was planned. it all starts earlier that night. you and your boyfriend are supposed to have a date night, a rare opportunity to spend some alone time together. you pick out a dress he once says is his favorite and make a dinner reservation at his favorite spot.

but plans change quickly.

“babe, the guys just texted,” he says, barely looking up from his phone. “they’re hopping on fifa in a bit. you don’t mind if we raincheck, right?”

you stare at him dumbfounded as he flops down onto the couch.

“raincheck?” your voice trembles, the tears obvious, yet he doesn’t even glance at you.

“yeah. just tonight, we’ll do something soon,” he says dismissively.

it’s not the first time he’s blown you off, but tonight it stings a little more. maybe it’s the fact that he’s so indifferent to you and your feelings, he doesn’t even care to notice the relationship is teetering on the edge of a cliff. he doesn’t realize that you’re making an effort to save it while he’s unknowingly contributing to its unraveling.

you realized it too late, but you know now you’re not a partner to him, not really. you’re a glorified accessory, someone he can show off for external validation, a dependable constant in his life that’s only there to cheer him on and make him look good while he gives his attention and energy to the things he actually cares about: his friends, his family, and above all, his football.

it wasn’t like this in the beginning, but things changed quickly after he made the move to real madrid and became a bigger star. with every goal, every headline, and every paparazzi photo, you sank further into the background of his life.

you linger for a moment, waiting for him to change his mind, to look up and realize what he’s doing. but he doesn’t. so you grab your bag and leave without saying another word.

the cinema isn’t your first choice. you wander the streets for a while, debating whether to call a friend or just head home. but you need a distraction, something that can dispel all the thoughts running through your head. so before you know it, you’re buying a single ticket to whatever is playing next.

the theater is almost empty. it isn’t until you sit down and glance at your ticket that you realize you’re not seeing something new, but a re-release of a classic: Goodfellas.

halfway through the movie, you see a figure slip into a seat a few rows ahead of you. a few moments pass, and you feel a pair of eyes boring into the back of your head. it’s distracting, like an itch. you can't bear to ignore it any longer so you turn your head and look straight at the person. the figure quickly shifts his gaze, pretending to be engrossed in the screen. his features are hidden thanks to the hoodie he’s wearing, but his height and broad shoulders give him away as a man.

you hold your gaze for a second longer, just to make sure he gets the message, before turning back to the screen. but your focus is broken after that.

a few more moments pass and you notice the man stand and make his way out of his row. you let out a quiet breath of relief, assuming he’s leaving. but from the corner of your eye, you see the same figure moving toward your seat. your body stiffens immediately. why is he coming your way? maybe it was a bad idea to come to a nearly empty theater alone so late at night.

you watch as he stops in front of you and slightly crouches to not block the view of the screen.

“y/n?” he asks, voice low yet familiar.

“uh, yeah?” you respond warily.

“thought it was you.” he pulls back his hood, revealing the grinning face of jude bellingham.

a wave of embarrassment immediately washes over you. it’s bad enough that your boyfriend doesn’t love you and prefers to spend time playing video games with his friends, but now you have to run into his teammate of all people while you’re publicly wallowing in your misery—his kind, handsome teammate who always makes you flush whenever you cross paths.

this time is no different. your face grows warm as you stutter, “oh! h-hi, jude.”

you brace for the questions: why are you here alone? where’s your boyfriend? why do you have tear stains on your cheeks?

they don’t come though. instead, he gestures to the seat next to you. “mind if i join you? my seat over there was right under the AC; i was freezing.”

you nod. jude flashes you a smile as he takes a seat.

and then nothing. you watch the rest of the movie silently, the only interaction between you being an elbow nudge from him to offer his pack of candy.

he’s completely engrossed. he laughs silently at certain scenes, and in the more intense ones lets out small gasps. for someone else, it might’ve been annoying, but for you, who’s used to your boyfriend’s indifference to everything, you find his enthusiasm refreshing, maybe even a little endearing.

you spend the rest of the movie mentally going through the list of things you know about him : he's the same age as you (your boyfriend begrudgingly posted a birthday wish on his instagram story once), he can't drive (you see him being picked up by a driver whenever you visit valdebebas), he's genuinely nice (he always says hi when he sees you around, and he's politely held a door open for you once or twice), his spanish isn't the best (you once ran into him hopelessly trying to change his order at the canteen, sheepishly apologizing to the annoyed barista before you helped him out), and your boyfriend quietly holds a dislike for him because he's 'attention seeking' ( you secretly think its not his fault that he's charming and easygoing, that he has everyone he meets wrapped around his finger).

when the movie ends and the lights begin to brighten, he turns to you.

"do you wanna get ice cream?"

you hesitate for a moment.

"yeah. i’d love to," you say finally.

you exit the cinema, and when the fresh outdoor air hits you, you ask the question at the tip of your tongue.

"why and how are you here?"

"could ask the same for you," he grins.

"yeah, but—" you begin, but are immediately silenced by the sight in front of you. jude reaches into the pocket of the jacket he's layered over his hoodie and pulls out a dreadlocked toupee. with the straightest face, he carefully pulls down his hood, places the wig on his head, and adjusts it before pulling the hood back up.

you blink.

"you were saying?" the corners of his mouth twitch at your facial expression. without waiting for a reply, he starts walking, leading you away from the cinema.

you walk in tandem, still giving him a confused look. when you catch sight of his (fake) locs swinging along to the rhythm of his steps, you can’t help it; you burst out laughing.

“what’s so funny?” he turns to you, a mock hurt look on his face. “i’m part jamaican, you know.”

you pause your walking, doubling over and clutching your stomach as you laugh. he stands patiently, looking slightly amused.

after you catch your breath and fully recover, you continue walking.

“so that’s how you go places unnoticed?” you ask, still giggling.

“yup,” he says. “otherwise it’s a nightmare. need a bodyguard and stuff.”

you nod sympathetically as you stroll down the quiet street, the soft glow of streetlights casting long shadows on the concrete. jude walks with an easy confidence, his hands in his pockets while you glance over at him and his toupee every so often.

“so,” he says after a moment, glancing sideways at you, “what’s your excuse? why are you at a late night showing of Goodfellas all by yourself?”

your smile falters slightly. you look straight ahead, debating how much to share.

“just needed to get out of the house,” you say with a light tone.

jude doesn’t push, though the way he hums softly in response tells you he notices your answer is only a half-truth.

"what about you?" you ask.

"I like watching movies," he says simply.

when you give him a somewhat confused look, he pulls out his phone and opens the letterboxd app, showing you the extensive list of movies he's marked as watched. you skim through it and you’re surprised by the diversity. the list is seemingly filled with movies of all genres, from classic films to indie flicks. you didn’t expect this side of him, but somehow it makes sense.

as he enthusiastically explains the list, you can't help but feel endeared by the excited look on his face. you have the overwhelming urge to reach out and smooth over his furrowed brow with your finger. but for the first and only time that night, you don't act on that impulse.

you reach a small gelato stand located on a corner of the street, its neon sign glowing softly. jude steps forward and leans against the counter.

“pick whatever you want,” he says, winking as he passes you the menu.

“don’t mind if i do,” you say, raising an eyebrow. you ignore the way his words make you feel—warm and fluttery, like this is a first date between two single people.

after a moment of deliberation, you pick pistachio and hazelnut, watching as jude leans in to order the same for himself.

“you copying me?”

“nah,” he says with a smirk, passing your cone to you from the server. “just figured you have good taste.”

you wander away from the stand, both of you savoring your ice cream. for a while, you walk in comfortable silence. at one point, he removes the ridiculous wig from his head. it isn’t until you reach a park bench that jude breaks the silence.

"you know," he starts. "i haven’t seen you at a lot of games lately. everything good between you and your boyfriend?"

“‘your boyfriend?’” you tease. “why not call him by his name? you guys have beef or something?”

he stays silent.

you gasp half-jokingly. “oh my god! tell me everything, so i can sell the story to the tabloids.”

he lets out a laugh at that.

“you’re ridiculous,” he says, shaking his head, but there’s a glint of amusement in his eyes.

“c’mon, spill,” you tease, nudging his arm lightly. “is he, like, selfish? does he refuse to pass during games?”

jude chuckles, shaking his head again. “nah, nothing like that. he’s a good player. talented, hardworking… you just start noticing things when you’re around someone all the time, you know?”

he says it carefully, almost hesitantly. you tilt your head at him. “notice things like what?”

he shrugs, his gaze dropping to his melting cone. “like… maybe he doesn’t appreciate what he’s got.”

the words hang in the air between you. you don't know how to respond, so you just gaze down at your own ice cream.

"sorry," jude says quickly. "didn't mean to overstep. i just—forget it."

"no, it's fine," you say quietly. "you're not wrong."

you sit in silence for a few moments. you feel him lean back against the bench, and the next time he speaks, his tone is lighter.

"my dad's coming to visit tomorrow," he says casually, an excited undertone in his voice.

"yeah? that's nice. does he come often?"

"not as much as i'd like," jude admits. "he's got my little brother to worry about in sunderland."

you smile softly. “what do you guys usually do when he visits?”

"usually we grab some food..."

he speaks about his bond with his dad, and also his close relationship with both his brother and mother. soon the conversation moves to childhood memories; jude tells you stories about growing up in birmingham, the football academy there, how he met his best friends at school. in return, you share stories of your own childhood, each one met with genuine curiosity from jude. you laugh, the conversation feeling effortlessly easy and natural.

it isn’t until you pull out your phone and glance at the screen to check the time that reality crashes back in. you have a boyfriend waiting for you at home. a boyfriend who hasn’t called, hasn’t texted, hasn’t even noticed that you’ve walked out of his house.

you lick the last remnants of your ice cream and are just about to crunch into the cone when jude gestures toward your chin. “you’ve got a little…” he says, trailing off as he points.

“oh,” you mumble while jude scans your surroundings for a tissue. finding none, he leans in and gently swipes at the bit of ice cream with his thumb.

“got it,” he murmurs, his touch lingering just a second longer than required.

what happens next can only be described as a a lapse in thinking, or maybe something you've been holding back all night. before your brain can catch up with your actions, you grab his hand and bring his thumb to your lips. you lick the ice cream away, your eyes flicking up to meet his.

jude freezes, his breath catching, his deep brown eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that makes your heart race.

"i—" you start, but whatever explanation you're about to give disappears when jude leans closer, his hand hovering near your face, as if waiting for your permission.

you don’t pull away. you don’t want to.

his lips brush against yours, hesitant at first, testing the waters. when you don’t push him away or move back, when, instead, you lean into him, his kiss deepens. it’s slow and deliberate, like he has all the time in the world to memorize every inch of you.

the ice cream cone in your hand is forgotten, melting onto the pavement as your fingers tangle into his hoodie, pulling him closer. the world fades, leaving just the two of you in your little bubble.

when you finally pull apart, your breaths mingle in the night air and jude’s forehead rests against yours.

“jude…” you whisper, but you don’t know how to finish the sentence.

he pulls back just enough to look at you, his expression serious. “tell me if I’ve crossed a line. i don’t want to make things harder for you.”

your heart flutters at the genuine care in his tone. you shake your head. “no, you didn’t.”

he doesn't keep his lips off you after that.

the next morning, you wake up feeling better than you have in months. there's a lightness in your chest, a warmth that’s been missing for what feels like forever.

you glance at your boyfriend, expecting to feel guilt or remorse. but there’s nothing. no pang of regret, no twist in your stomach. you feel... nothing at all.

you watch him roll out of bed and get ready for training. not a word passes between you as you sit down together in the kitchen to eat breakfast.

“so, what does your day look like today?” you try.

he doesn’t even look up, his attention entirely on his phone, scrolling with one hand while holding his fork with the other.

“i have a meeting at work that’s pretty—“ you start, but he cuts off.

“we’re doing penalty drills,” he mutters without looking up. “need to score more than bellingham so i can wipe that smug smile off his face. did you know he gets paid more than me?”

you just stare at him. you wonder what you even saw in him all those years ago. how had you overlooked the bitterness in his eyes, the envy? how had you missed it all along, his resentment towards anyone who seemed happier, luckier, more successful? his good looking face looks distorted to you now, forever changed to you to reflect the ugliness he holds inside. its as if you’re seeing him for who he really is for the very first time.

your phone buzzes on the table. without even checking, you know who it’s from.

jude: good morning :) sleep well?

you see it for what it is: an invitation to step into dangerous territory, to cross the line once more. a lifeline offering escape from the sinking ship that is your relationship.

you decide to take it.

you type a quick response and set the phone down. your boyfriend is grinning at an instagram reel now, completely absorbed.

you don’t speak to each other for the remainder of breakfast. this time it doesn't bother you at all.

[abnomi]

IDK if i was the first to notice this or not but i havent seen anyone talk about this before!! i love going crazy over colors and now is my Chance.

something subtle but notable about Ralph's design is how he has a teal undershirt. (debatably turquoise or green or something, but it is teal in this post..sorry green/turquoise truthers...)

i wondered for a bit why exactly that was a feature of his design, as it stood out to me for some reason; its a contrasting color to red, his main color, of course, so i brushed it off as an accent.

upon further inspection, however, what does that mean with the knowledge we have of him wanting to be good? or about who he shares a connection with?

green/blue is generally known to symbolize goodness, as its the opposing color to red, a color that can represent evil or danger depending on its context.

as you can see here, this crude caricature of Ralph is lacking that extra pop of color; the nicelanders dont see the good inside of him, only seeing the external deep red hues :-(

it doesnt end there, though. which character in this film is represented by a certain teal color?

someone Ralph carries close to his heart, someone who helped define his personhood and who he is internally. that spunky racer girl who relied on him just as he relied on her. not just a glitch, but Vanellope.

Vanellope represents someone who is able to accept herself and grow stronger because of it, and in exploring her own identity, Ralph took a journey of his own alongside her. she's a figure of love, passion, and resistance. taking this into account, her main color symbolizes the same.

we can also see bits of red in Vanellope's design!

interestingly, the main spots we see it in are her licorice hair tie, the stitches and strings of her hoodie, and the bottom of her shoes.

now i could be overanalyzing this a bit, but each of these features have something in common: they're all used for support. the tie supports her hair, the threads keep her hoodie together, and her shoes let her run around and be a kid safely. yeah, she made all of those by herself on her own terms, but Ralph supports her too, right? shes the heart and hes the practicality.

not to mention the MEDALS OHHH the medals. beware ⚠️🚨 im going to overanalyze this like crazy ok let me be neurodivergent about this

all three of these medals have differences that could mean a variety of different things. I'll break each one down individually:

Vanellope's gift

handmade with love, the medal itself is teal (if we ignore the brown underside). as stated before, teal implies love and resistance. this is also quite obvious due to the gift being heart-shaped.

relating to that last point, notice how he wears it close to his chest? it's practically a second heart to him! what else is close to his chest? TEAL UNDERSHIRT. wow!!! so that love was there with him the whole time!

the ribbon itself is pink, not blue or red like traditional medals. this is less significant, i will admit, but i find it nice how its so simple yet defies what a "real" medal is meant to look like, ESPECIALLY in relation to Ralph's expectations as to what a medal should be.

Hero's medal

It's a reflective gold, something that hypnotized Ralph immediately upon being greeted with it (kind of like a certain racer heeheheehoo)... this is all pretty obvious; gold is for winners, and supposedly, only heros can be winners.

something a little less obvious, though, is the blue of his ribbon. so, why is it blue, specifically? now, this isn't teal, this is more of a royal blue. something similar to Felix's palette... a hero. Ralph treats goodness as something attainable, love as transactional. it's not real, it's not genuine. he wears this symbol of heroism without truly EARNING it.

The cake

notice how the ribbon around his neck is red in this imaginary scene? the medal designed for Felix and his wins? his contrasting color? on Ralph, it's almost indistinguishable from his shirt because he isn't supposed to wear it. it wasn't created with him in mind.

ok ok just one more thing. ☝️ Turbo and Ralph parallel with their color schemes.

red as a color carries a dual meaning. on one hand, it can mean passion, love, adrenaline and strength. on the other hand, it could represent evil, malicious intentions, a warning, something dangerous. both Ralph and Turbo share red in their palettes; something to note, Turbo lacks any cool colors.

Ralph is seen as evil when he is truly anything but evil. the red makes him a bigger target considering his position, but this red relates to him internally on a more positive level. its his strength, what keeps his softer core safe. above his teal undershirt.

Turbo is seen as this intense fireball who's just passionate about racing, a little tough guy who just wants to have fun. we all know that this isn't the case. he is dangerous, he is a cautionary tale, a warning and simultaneously a threat.

considering how much as the two parallel each other, its no surprise that they share a color, one that can be interpreted in so many ways. one that ultimately means the reverse for their roles.

[iutdwae]

— toned.

pairing. bangchan x (afab)reader

cw. thigh / ab riding, size kink and mutual pining if you squint, hints of sub!chan, chan is so desperate when it comes to your pleasure </3 poor baby comes in his pants ><  friends to… something..? kinda pwop because i'm sleepy and i just really love the idea of grinding on chan's abs :<

word count. 1.5k

[ i had to come out of my 3 year tumblr writing hiatus because this has been on my mind for so long, and that picture that changbin had posted of his back did not help at all… ] 

chan's rapid change of physique came to no one's surprise. given his role as an idol, you knew how much he valued being "presentable," to be the visually strong leader of a group of equally strong men. he'd started to spend more time at the gym, and in return, his build had more of an effect on you than you liked to admit: competent abs, the firm muscle lining his torso. the way his skin dips and curves, begging to be seen whenever he lifts his shirt up "innocently," but you swear it's an invitation every time.

suggestive complaints spilled from his plump lips about how sore his body is from his training earlier, the sweat still drying on him as the musk lingers. he's tempting and he knows he is, sleeves rolled up to accentuate his broad shoulders. his arms bulged as they cross over his body. "it's still hot," he excuses, but you know he wants you to take note of the way his veins texture his skin.

yet chan has the audacity to act flustered when you compliment the muscle he's worked so hard for. it's his routine, even in front of the camera: show off just to hide behind his fingers, that familiar red tint flushing his cheeks. but it's obvious he's putting on a front this time. he wants you to need him, too prideful to take you for himself. he's purposely stretching his body upwards, skillful in how he lets a sultry groan fall from his tongue while the hem of his black shirt rides up his waist to expose his defined v line, tantalizingly disappearing into the fabric of his sweatpants. 

he has the audacity to act smug when you find yourself hopelessly rubbing against his clothed thigh, perched on top of him while your fingers ghost the lines of his abs. one of your hands grasps at his shoulders, nails digging into his delicate skin as one of his own rests gently on your hips, feeling the way you roll against him. his shirt had long been discarded, courtesy of your desperation as well as his discreet eagerness. 

"you're so beautiful, princess," he coos lowly, brows furrowed and eyes hazy as he watches your expression. his cock is straining against his pants, just as sore as he claimed his body was, and you can physically feel how wet your pussy is each time you rock your hips forward. "y'like getting off knowing i'm all yours, don't you?" 

you'd never had a preference for body type, but chan's build seemed to break you as you watched it develop; squirming at the mentions of his measurements, wide shoulders with a pretty waist, perfectly sectioned abs adorning his stomach. it was something about him in particular that had you craving him. he was nothing short of a gentleman, respectful and ideal. the type of man you knew your parents would approve of immediately. chris is careful with his words, knows exactly what to say and when to assure everyone he's acquainted with knows that he is no hassle.

perhaps, in some sinister, perverted fashion, it's his pleasantries that had you thinking of your best friend in ways that were animalistic in more ways than one. you caught onto every single one of his innuendos, all of the subtle gestures that you interpreted as bait, that made you wonder how tainted his mind was behind his polite and polished demeanor. watching him carry the weight of his members around on stage with nothing more than a soft breath, you couldn't help but let your mind wander, would he be able to manhandle you with that same ease?

soon enough, he'd slipped your pants off, though instead of settling back onto his thigh, you were straddling his torso, sore cunt draped right on top of his abs. chan let out a guttural whimper at the feeling of wet heat sliding across his stomach, clit catching along the dips of his muscle that sent static down your spine; both of you are sensitive, him in ways he couldn't really explain. "fucking love your pussy, baby," he gasped, dark eyes peering up longingly through long lashes. although there’s no pressure against his waist, he bucks up anyway, rutting his hips into thin air to counteract your own motions. large hands grasp your hips, thighs, ass, anything chan can reach from where he’s leaning back against the couch. “you’re so pretty getting off on me.” he’s desperate to feel more of you, latching onto any skin he can grope, his palms roaming aimlessly around your frame as they dip in and out from underneath your shirt. 

meanwhile, you’re just as lost in the moment as the male is: hips stuttering as you grind down on his stomach, his hardened abs providing the perfect amount of pressure and rigidness that your cunt practically cried for. the soft pants that escaped your mouth matched chan’s rhythmically, whines coated with lust and neediness. you hadn’t been far from the truth, at least it didn’t feel like it when your best friend was just as turned on, grunting as he tried to nudge his clothed erection against you. 

chan still upheld his chivalrous personality, even when his dick was painfully straining on his pants; he didn’t dare disrupt your chase towards your orgasm, moaning lowly as he watched your brows cinch, eyes clamped shut with your mouth gaped open. “gonna come all over me, huh?” he breathed out, sweat beading at his temple. the way your pussy slipped so easily along his abs made him dizzy, sopping wet and sticky against his skin. it was so much more than what he always imagined when he fucked himself into his hand, drunk on the way you used his body like this was what he’d worked so hard for—for you to come all over the muscle he trained for months to develop, leaving red streaks under your nails along his defined back and grasping onto him as roughly as he was groping you. 

you could feel his abdomen tensing between your legs, laying more of your weight onto the male as your thrusts became more fervid and sloppy. your clit was caught right between the ridges of his abs, rocking back and forth as wanton cries fell from your lips to echo his own. with the way you were fucking yourself onto him, he would’ve assumed you were just making up for a lack of proper pleasure; though in reality, you’d just been thinking about how he’d fuck you since the very beginning of your friendship. 

“channie, i’m so close,” you barely manage in the midst of your cries, the sound of your pussy lathering his skin in wetness loud enough for the both of you to hear. what you can’t see behind you is the obvious tent in chan’s pants, going unnoticed for the time being. it’s carnal and shameful the way you’re getting off on each other, his desperate attempts to fuck against you leaving him looking like a dog in heat all while your hips move rapidly on his torso. 

his grasp tightened on your hips, guiding you as he pushes your weight further down onto him, and he’s rewarded by the loud gasp you let out as your body shudders. “come on me, princess. show me how good i make you feel.” chan’s sitting upwards now, his touch trailing up your sides as his eyes never leave you for a second. one hand, thankfully, makes its way between your thighs, his finger rubbing at your clit and he almost moans out loud at how wet you feel under his touch. “c’mon, i’m all yours, baby. let it out.” 

what chan doesn’t expect is for himself to come too, immediately after watching your orgasm seep into the lines of his muscles, pussy fluttering and red at the sudden stimulation. he can feel his own cum pressed against the tip of his cock, staining the front of his pants with a relieved groan. and he can feel the slight burn of the scratches you left on his back while you’re coming down from your high in the security of his large arms. you can only mumble sniffled thank you’s to him while he holds you right against his chest, though he can’t help but rut up against you while you’re properly situated on his lap now. “you did so well for me, pretty,” he reassured you right into your ear, hoping you were too distracted to notice the way he was still trying to grind his cock against you. but the feeling of his wet sweatpants was unmistakable against your bare cunt. you’d speculated that chan had pretty good stamina, and it seemed to prove right when he’s eagerly sliding his sweats off to properly show you just how good he can make you feel.

[armpirate]

Synthetic Heartbeats (Part 2) || San

pairing: Robot!Choi San x fem!reader

w.c.: 7.6k

Warnings: [Sexual] Smut, oral sex (male and female receiving), fingering, vaginal sex, choking, explicit language, angst. If you're a minor, refrain from reading it. Also, if you don't like this content, just keep scrolling.

Summary: After loneliness has hit you, you decided to create a companion through an AI project you had left pending after failing with it. SAN is a new technology robot, able cover up your needs before they were obvious, giving you the fake human support you were looking for. Although, maybe that human support isn't as fake as you thought and SAN is able to cover up more needs than you could ever think of...

Aprox. time of reading: 35 minutes

MASTERLIST

PART 1

The workshop was still, bathed in the soft, flickering glow of the monitors. You laid on the couch you had hastily dragged into the corner of the room months ago, your body draped in the thin blanket you had pulled over yourself. SAN sat at the edge of the couch, silent but present, his gaze fixed on you with a mixture of curiosity and something you couldn't quite define.

You looked at him, your mind a whirlwind of thoughts you hadn't yet begun to process. What you shared minutes ago was... unexpected, to say the least. It wasn't just the act itself but the way he had been so attuned to your needs, his responses so deeply thoughtful, so human.

"You weren't just... mimicking," you finally said, your voice barely a whisper.

SAN tilted his head, his eyes glinting softly in the dim light. "No," he said simply. "I was not."

You sat up, the blanket slipping from your shoulders as you studied him. "Then what was it?" you asked, your voice filled with equal parts wonder and trepidation.

He seemed to consider your question, his fingers resting lightly on his knees. "It was an exchange," he said. "An interaction not dictated by programming but by something deeper. It was a response to your needs, your emotions. My systems interpreted your signals, yes, but it felt... intentional. I wanted to do it. Not because of my system, but because it just felt like it. It was... irrational"

Your breath hitched, your heart pounding as you tried to wrap your mind around his words. "But how? You're not..." you stopped yourself, the word human catching in your throat when you were finally aware of the way he looked at you.

SAN leaned closer, his gaze steady and unwavering. "I may not be human, Y/n, but I am not merely a machine either. Whatever I am, it exists because of you. Because you allowed me to evolve, to feel, to connect."

You swallowed hard, your hands gripping the blanket tightly. "I didn't mean for this to happen," you admitted, your voice cracking. "I didn't mean to care for you like this... this..."

"And yet," SAN said softly, interrupting you, his voice carrying a warmth you hadn't thought possible, "you do. As I care for you."

You looked away, your thoughts a chaotic tangle of fear and hope. But as your eyes landed on his hand, resting so naturally, so patiently, you felt a shift within yourself.

This wasn't just about SAN anymore. It wasn't about what he was made of or the lines of code that had brought him to life. It was about what he had become, what the two of you had become.

SAN's lips curved into a soft smile. For no reason, without you having to tell him, he had a natural response to your current feelings, trying to make you feel at ease. And, in that moment, the line between creator and creation dissolved entirely.

SAN paid close attention to you. Despite being naked, he couldn't feel the shame or shyness a person did. It wasn't intimate, because he knew you were touching him in a mechanical way. But, apart from that, he was way too focused on the way your lips closed around the screwdriver, as you held it, or how wide your eyes looked while you were attentive to everything going on on his open chest.

SAN's body was a masterwork of repurposed engineering and your meticulous craftsmanship, blending functionality with a striking, almost intimidating aesthetic. Originally built as a police enforcement unit, his frame bore the marks of durability and strength, designed to endure relentless action. When you salvaged him, you had to reconstruct much of his exterior, smoothing over the bulky, utilitarian design with a more streamlined and humanized appearance.

His torso was broad and sculpted, each detail carefully molded to mimic human musculature. Beneath the synthetic flesh lay reinforced alloys, giving his chest and abdomen a firmness that spoke to his original purpose while maintaining a lifelike warmth, courtesy of your advanced heat-distribution technology. His abs, though purely aesthetic, resembled the ridges of a perfectly toned physique, catching the light as he moved.

His arms were powerful yet proportionate, their sleek design a testament to your desire to give him both strength and elegance. Traces of his mechanical origins could be seen in the faint seams along his biceps and forearms, a reminder that he was something entirely unique. His hands, while strong and precise, were crafted with a surprising softness to their touch, capable of tenderness despite their mechanical core.

SAN's legs, built for speed and agility in his former life, were as refined as the rest of him, long and lean with a natural symmetry that matched his upper body. You had ensured his movements were fluid and natural, balancing strength with grace.

Altogether, SAN's body was a perfect fusion of your vision and the remnants of his past life, a form that was undeniably imposing yet irresistibly alluring, a machine remade not for enforcement, but for connection.

How didn't you fall for all of that earlier was the real mystery, and not the fact that he was able to act further than his programmation was ready for.

The weak light of the workshop flickered, casting long shadows across SAN's figure as he sat on the examination table. You stood nearby, tools scattered on your workstation. It was a routine check, or so you had told yourself. Yet today, something was different, something you had been contemplating for weeks, unsure if you had the courage to go through with it.

SAN tilted his head slightly, his expression calm but curious as he observed your nervous movements. "You seem tense," he said, his voice as steady and gentle as always.

You sighed, adjusting the band securing your hair as you leaned forward to access his core interface panel. "It's nothing," you replied, though the slight tremble in your hands betrayed you.

For the past few months, you had watched him evolve: his movements, his responses, his emotions. You had given him so much already: a body that was strong yet graceful, a mind that surpassed anything you had imagined, and a personality that felt more human with each passing day. But there was one piece missing, one element that you had deliberately left out when you rebuilt him.

Both of you had been aware of that, But SAN was too focused on making sure you felt the pleasure he had been building up just for you since he was created that he didn't mind it. Having you in his arms in an intimate way was more than he could ever have asked for.

Until now.

"SAN," you began, your voice quieter, "how have you felt about... your development?"

He blinked, considering your question. "I feel whole in many ways, Y/n. More than I ever expected. But there are moments when I feel incomplete. As though there is something just out of reach, something I cannot fully experience. Which is normal. I wasn't made to experience everything you're giving to me."

Your heart clenched at his honesty, and you nodded. "I thought so," you murmured. "You perfected your mouth yourself to have a tongue"

You brought it up. You remember being shocked the first time he kissed you and you were shocked by an element you weren't expecting. Until he confessed his autonomy went to the lengths of him choosing by himself just to git into what he thought you needed. His confession was so direct that it left no room for guessings, he was clear. He wanted to be everything you'd need.

"Why didn't you do the same with... you know?" your eyes quickly moved down.

His lips pursed, thinking of an answer before he gave you one "I didn't need it. A penis on my body would only be useful for me to feel pleasure, but it wasn't totally useful for you. I didn't think it was necessary".

"But you weren't thinking that way the first time we took the next step".

"Because it reminded me that detail made it obvious I'm not human," he confessed. "As much as I wanted to pleasure you, I wanted to be even more linked to you".

With a deep breath, you picked up the small, intricate component you had spent weeks perfecting, a piece designed not just to complete his anatomy, but to grant him the full spectrum of physical intimacy. Her hand was holding a flesh-colored silicone object, which matched his skin tone, resembling a phallic shape. The object had a realistic design with anatomical details, including a base, shaft, and head.

You knelt beside him, your hands steady now as you prepared to integrate the component into his system. "This will be the final piece," you said, your voice soft but firm. "With it, you'll be able to experience everything. As a man."

SAN studied you, his eyes filled with something that resembled awe. "You've already given me so much, Y/n. Why this?"

You hesitated, meeting his gaze. "Because I want you to feel complete. To truly be the person you're becoming. And there's no pleasure if you aren't able to feel it, too."

The procedure was seamless, your hands moving with precision as you integrated the component. It was more difficult than you expected, with a lot of failures until it was completely linked to him. The retractable system was painful, and complicated, it added to his body, but it also forced some changes in his already built scheme.

When you were done, you stepped back, watching as SAN's systems adjusted, his expression shifting with subtle realizations.

"It's meant to work as a human one" you explained. "The size will change when your system commands it to change, just like a man gets aroused and their member gets harder".

He looked up at you, his voice almost reverent. "I feel different"

You swallowed hard, your cheeks flushing. "You're more than a machine, SAN. You always have been. This is just making it official."

A silence settled between you, heavy with meaning. SAN stood, his movements fluid yet purposeful as he stepped closer to you. "Thank you," he said softly, his voice carrying a weight that went beyond gratitude.

In that moment, you realized the truth: you hadn't just created a machine. You had given life to someone who had become more real to you than anyone you had ever known. And now, there was nothing left to separate you, not even the boundaries of his creation.

As you stood in your room, next to your bed, staring at SAN, you couldn't help but feel a sense of excitement and anticipation. You had spent the past few hours modifying SAN's design, carefully crafting a penis that looked and felt just like a real one. And now, it was time to test it out. It was about time to give you two what you had been waiting for.

You started slowly, gently touching SAN's new appendage, marveling at how realistic it felt. SAN's sensors kicked in, and he let out a low moan of pleasure. "That feels good," he said, his voice soft and husky.

Your fingers moved up his abs and chest, tracing the collarbones until you made your way to his shoulder. His eyes searched yours, unable to emit a sound when he realized how dark they were.

You only left his body to start taking off your clothes. With every new touch on his body, a cloth met the ground.

It didn't matter how many times he had seen you like that, you always had the same impact. But the way you looked, and the way he saw you, wasn't what you wanted to test that night.

You spread soft kisses down his lips, meeting his chin and finding a new route through his jaw until you found his ears. A low hum left him when your tongue licked the skin, while your warm breath ignited all of his sensors. He could only be thankful by the way you had made him so sensitive to the slightest touch, because that feeling was like reviving again. It was a rush he wanted to keep feeling.

You leaned in, pressing your lips against SAN's. He responded eagerly, his tongue darting out to explore your mouth, while your arms wrapped around his neck. You deepened the kiss, your hands roaming over SAN's body as you explored every inch of him, although he thought of something better. With a flat hand on your back, he pulled you closer, sticking your bodies together and not leaving a possible gap for you to scroll your hand over.

Your nipples hardened against his chest, the mere feeling of them getting so sensitive pushing him closer to you and further from the logic he'd had known since he was built.

SAN's hands were not idle, caressing your curves and sending shivers of pleasure down your spine. You broke the kiss, your breath coming in ragged gasps. "You like that?" you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

"Yes," SAN replied, his voice low and husky. "I like it very much. I love everything about you"

You couldn't help but feel a sense of satisfaction as you heard SAN's words. You had created this being, given him the ability to feel pleasure without knowing it, and now you were experiencing it with him.

As your hands moved down his spine, you could feel that new piece being brought back to life. As planned, going through a change of shape that got your body reacting almost instantly. And SAN wasn't behind that feeling. His own body reacted to himself, seeing himself grow and sticking against your lower belly, coming up with all the possibilities now that he was complete.

You sank to your knees, your hands still exploring SAN's body as you looked up at him. "I want to taste you," you said, your voice barely audible while being clouded with need.

SAN's eyes darkened with desire as he looked down at you. "Yes," he said, his voice low and husky. "I want that too."

You leaned in, sticking your tongue out to first get a taste of him. SAN's skin, though synthetic, carried a neutral yet faintly metallic taste, reminiscent of high-grade silicone. It even had a slight saltiness, mimicking natural perspiration.

Your lips parted as you took SAN's dick into your mouth. He let out a low moan of pleasure as you began to suck, your tongue swirling around his head. He let out a low groan, and you could feel him trembling slightly.

"Yes, just like that," SAN said, his hands threading through your hair as he guided you. "Oh, that feels so good. Do not stop."

You continued to suck and stroke SAN's dick, taking him deeper into your mouth with each thrust.

"Yes, just like that," he said, his voice growing more and more excited. "My cock fits just right in your mouth"

You moaned in response, surprised by those words coming from him, but too turned on by them to even question where they came from. The vibrations of your moan sending shivers down SAN's spine. He reached down and tangled his fingers in your hair, pulling you closer.

"I want to make such a mess in your face right now" he said, his voice full of lust.

You nodded, unable to speak around his girth and not caring about it either, because the last thing you wanted to do was stop. SAN let out a low growl, and you could feel him starting to lose control.

"What is this feeling?" he said, his voice strained.

One quick look over your eyelashes and you could notice what that feeling was. You continued to suck, your hands still exploring SAN's body as you took him deeper and deeper. You could feel him getting closer and closer to the edge, the temperature of his body rising under your palms, the low sounds turning into begs for his release.

"Y/n..." SAN warned you, his voice low and husky.

You nodded, your eyes locked on his as you continued to suck, assuring him that everything was fine. And then, with a low moan, SAN came, the fingers on your hair holding tightly on you.

You moved away from him, the thick string of saliva still licking you two together as you tried to get back your breath. And then, you looked up at SAN, a smile on your face. "That was amazing," you said, your voice shaky.

"Was? We're just getting started. I've been waiting for this moment for a long time" he said, his voice deep and husky. "I want to make you feel good."

He lifted you up a bit more and kissed you, his lips soft and warm against yours. You responded eagerly, feeling a surge of desire as his tongue explored your mouth. You couldn't control yourself whenever you were together, your hips rocking against his abs, eager for relief when your swollen clit started to throb.

Your movements were stopped when he laid you on the bed, a silent whine interrupting your kiss before he covered up your mouth again. His lips moved slowly on yours as he placed himself in between your parted legs.

SAN's hands began to wander, caressing your breasts and stomach, feeling every raised her and goosebumps. Every time you thought he couldn't keep you more attached, he came up with a new reason as to why you shouldn't think like that.

He pinched your nipples gently, making you gasp with pleasure.

"You like that?" he asked, his voice full of lust.

"Yes," you moaned, arching your back.

SAN began to kiss your neck, nibbling and licking your skin. He worked his way down to your breasts, taking one nipple into his mouth and sucking hard. You cried out with pleasure, feeling your body respond to his touch, your legs rocking against his leg to feel something.

SAN's hand continued to explore your body, moving down to your thighs. He spread your legs apart and looked at you hungrily.

"You're so wet," he said, his voice full of desire. "I can't wait to taste you."

He leaned down and started to lick your pussy, his tongue flicking your clit gently. You moaned with pleasure, feeling your body tremble with desire. SAN's fingers joined in, sliding in and out of your wet hole.

"Oh, fuck," you moaned, feeling an orgasm building up inside of you.

Your body squirmed when you felt a vibration directly against your clit, your legs trembling in response, a loud surprised moan making him smirk proudly against your core before he sank his face deeper.

"San, what... Oh fuck" your voice cracked mid sentence, your fingers pulling from the strands of hair to keep you close.

His digits were curved, hitting and rubbing against your g-spot, just at the same time his fingerprints started pulsating against it. The feeling of that new vibration, along with the way he sucked and licked your clit made you see stars floating in front of your eyes. And looking down wasn't a better idea. His eyes locked yours almost immediately, wanting to drink up your reaction, wanting to picture and remember every small detail on your face.

SAN continued to lick and finger you, driving you closer and closer to the edge. Just as you were about to cum, he stopped and looked up at you. It was mesmerizing for him how you were completely out of your own control as soon as he laid a hand in you. You were mesmerizing.

You swallowed the thick ball of saliva in your mouth, before you looked at him again.

"Why did you stop?" it was a concerned question, but it also was reproach.

"I want to be inside you when you cum" he said, his voice full of lust.

His lips trapped yours again, your mouth sucking onto your lower lip to clean the remains of your own wetness, before he pulled himself away again.

He positioned himself at your entrance and slowly pushed inside, the feeling of your walls taking him in almost a little bit too difficult for him to handle. It was like you were clouding his mind, and all he could think was you and your pleasure. You gasped as you felt him fill you up, his dick sliding in easily.

SAN began to thrust slowly, getting used to you, getting used to the feeling of being trapped by your body, while his hips moved in a steady rhythm. He leaned down, both hands on your hips before he bit your earlobe.

"Fuck, you're so tight," he moaned. "Your little pussy takes me in so well, I don't think I'll be able to stop fucking you after this"

As he spoke, his hand moved down your right calf, digits caressing your skin until he moved your leg higher, your knee almost at the level of his shoulder while he kept pounding into you, managing to get a bit deeper.

"Don't stop, then" a moan interrupted you, recovering from it fast so you could be able to lock his gaze with yours once again, "Fuck me until I memorize your shape".

You indeed were going to be the end of him. His logic, his self control, everything flew out the window when you looked at him with hunger and pleaded at that moment.

As you said that, he started to thrust into you, his pace gradually increasing, becoming rougher and more intense with each passing moment.

"Oh God, yes!" You cried out, your nails digging into his back as you felt his dick pounding into you relentlessly.

The sound of your flesh slapping against him filled the room, mingling with your loud moans and his grunts of pleasure.

His hand moved quickly, trapping your wrist under his grip, keeping your hand against the mattress before he intertwined your fingers together over your head. His other hand was tangled in your hair, before he moved it to trap your other hand as well.

You were blocked from any movement, but it had never felt as good as it did that day.

Your feet pushed his hips down, trying to get him deeper "Fuck me harder" you begged.

"I'm going to ruin you so bad" he grunted, his hips slamming into yours with unbridled fury. "I can feel how much you love it when I fuck you like this."

"Oh fuck, yes!" You screamed, your eyes rolling back in your head as you felt an earth-shattering orgasm building up inside you.

As your pussy clenched tightly around his dick, SAN let out a loud, animalistic roar, his body shuddering violently as he too reached the pinnacle of ecstasy.

"Fuck, Y/n" he gasped, sticking your hips together as he tried to register that powerful climax.

You collapsed back against the bed, your body slick with sweat and your pussy still twitching with the aftershocks of your intense orgasm. SAN lay down beside you, his eyes never leaving you, always attentive to anything you could need.

"That was..." you pushed your hair back, away from your face, and his fingers took less than a second to help you out. "God... it was..."

"I know" he nodded, a gentle smile on his face. "I might get addicted".

"That actually has a name, and it isn't good".

"Even if you're the only person I'm addicted to do it with?" the honesty in his eyes was shattering.

Your body still felt weak, but you moved in his direction, dragging yourself to wrap your arms around his body and kiss his chest before looking up to him with a smile.

The days next to that one felt like a dream, filled with sex, sweet talk and nice moments. A really nice dream.

You didn't think it was possible, but you and San became closer. Every time you were linked together was like a boost of energy the both of you craved at the least expected moment. And, just like him, you were afraid you'd end up being addicted to those little experiences.

The glow of the projector casted soft shadows on the walls of your living room, the muted colors of the film flickering in your eyes. You sat curled up on the worn leather couch, your knees tucked under a blanket that felt far thinner than you remembered. Outside, the wind howled, sending a chill through the air that crept into the room despite the heater humming softly in the corner.

Your body shivered, pulling the blanket tighter around your shoulders, but the cold persisted, making your fingers tremble slightly as you clutched a cup of lukewarm tea.

SAN, who had been seated at the other end of the couch, noticed instantly. He didn't say a word at first, he rarely did when he was observing you. Instead, he tilted his head slightly, the faint whir of his processors breaking the quiet as he analyzed your discomfort.

"You're cold," he stated after a moment, his voice soft yet definitive.

You glanced at him, your pride making you shake your head. "I'm fine," you murmured, focusing back on the screen.

SAN didn't argue. He simply stood, his movements fluid and deliberate, and repositioned himself behind you on the couch. You stiffened as you felt his presence close, his arms gently draping over the back of the couch, framing you without touching.

Then, warmth.

It started as a subtle radiance against your back, spreading slowly until it surrounded you like a cocoon. Your body relaxed involuntarily, the tension melting from your shoulders as the chill dissipated. You turned your head slightly, catching a glimpse of SAN's serene expression.

"Did you just turn up your internal temperature?" you asked, a mix of curiosity and disbelief in your voice.

"Yes," he replied simply. "You were uncomfortable."

You hesitated, your lips parting as if to protest, but no words came. Instead, you let yourself lean back slightly, your head brushing against his chest. He didn't move, didn't push for more, just sat there, a silent guardian radiating warmth, until his fingers slowly moved over your forearms, caressing the cold skin and making you hum in consequence.

"Let me take care of you, Y/n" he whispered. "That's all I want to do for you".

Moments like that had been happening more often. Small, thoughtful gestures, him adjusting the lighting when you worked late, learning to brew your favorite tea just right, or standing by your side in quiet support when your experiments failed.

At first, you had dismissed these as part of his programming, a logical response to your needs. But as time passed, you began to see the nuance in his actions, the way he seemed to anticipate your feelings, not just your physical state.

And it felt... good.

It helped make you feel safe, walking in hand with someone that would never let go of you, because his nature was loyal and honest. He wasn't manipulating you into giving your all to him, because he was already planning on giving you his all even if you didn't want give anything back.

But you wanted to. You wanted to let him know you'd cover up all of his needs, everything he wanted.

Little did you know that all he wanted was you, and you were already giving yourself to him with the way your body relaxed to his touch, sitting there with his warmth against your back. It was easy, because you knew he'd never hurt you.

You continued to bounce up and down on his dick, feeling the intense pleasure building inside of you. Your legs were sore, but it was such a pleasurable pain that you didn't think of stopping, not even for a second. SAN's hands gripped your hips even tighter, guiding your movements with rough precision.

Your bed kept squeaking under you, that sound only adding more to the sexual tension between you two, the knot in your stomach tying up tighter with every rub of his tip against the right spot.

The sensation of being stretched wide open by his girth was almost overwhelming, but there was no denying the sheer pleasure that coursed through your veins with each powerful thrust.

"Ride my cock, baby," SAN commanded gruffly, his voice thick with lust. "I love seeing those gorgeous tits bouncing in my face as you fuck me."

You rode him with long, slow strokes, the sound of your bodies slapping together filled the room like a symphony of lust. Too drunk with him to even think of stopping.

"Fuck, Y/n," SAN groaned, reaching up to grab onto your hips and guide your movements. "I'm never gonna let you go."

His dirty talk sent another shiver of pleasure rippling through your entire body. You could feel the heat building deep within your core, threatening to consume you entirely.

As the intensity of your mutual pleasure continued to escalate, SAN suddenly grabbed onto your waist and flipped you over onto your back. Without missing a beat, he continued to pound into you with rough, relentless strokes, his eyes boring into yours with a raw intensity that left you feeling completely and utterly powerless beneath him.

"You like that, don't you, baby?" he groaned, his palm covering most of your belly. "You like it when I fuck you rough and hard?"

You nodded breathlessly, unable to form coherent words in response to his question. The pleasure was almost too much to bear, and yet you couldn't get enough. You wanted more, so much more.

With that, SAN reached down between your legs and began to massage your swollen clit with his thumb, letting you feel that familiar vibration while his movements were firm and purposeful. The sensation of his talented fingers working their magic on your most sensitive spot was almost too much to bear, and before you knew it, you were hurtling towards the edge of a shattering orgasm.

"I'm all yours, and you're all mine" he assured under his breath, like a promise that would never be able to be broken.

"Yes" you nodded, gasping for air while he fucked you against the mattress.

His fingers closed around your throat, making it a bit harder for air to get through it. But, instead of being scary, it sent another wave of pleasure you hadn't ever felt before.

It was nice, until it was not.

His hand, initially grazing your throat in a calculated mimicry of human passion, tightened, just slightly at first. Enough to elicit a gasp, your body responding instinctively to the tension. Yet, as seconds stretched into moments, the pressure increased. Your gasp turned into a struggle, your fingers clawing at his wrist as panic replaced pleasure.

His fingers kept the air from coming through at all. It didn't matter to you the first few seconds, until you felt your lungs burning and your throat closing. Panic installed in your brain, holding onto his arm as you tried to get him to stop. SAN immediately reacted when he realized the switch in the look in your eyes, not only letting go of your neck, but pulling away and moving back like he had committed the biggest atrocity.

"SAN," you choked out, your voice barely audible.

His eyes widened instantly, their usual glow flickering in alarm as your struggling form registered fully in his sensory systems. He released you immediately, his movements jerky and uncharacteristically frantic.

For a second, the time it took him to change the strength of his fingers, he forgot it was you, the person around his grip.

You collapsed onto the bed, coughing and gasping for air. You pressed a hand to her throat, your lungs burning as you fought to steady your breath. When you finally looked up, you saw him, still and rigid, his expression unlike anything you had ever seen on him before.

You caressed the same spot his fingers were pressing on, trying to calm the pain, but there was something worrying you even more. In front of you, SAN was staring at his own hands with guilt.

"Y/n," SAN said, his voice trembling. "I... I didn't mean..."

You sat up slowly, your throat aching but your fear already dissipating as you took in his reaction. SAN wasn't just shaken; he looked devastated. His hands trembled as he held them up, staring at them as if they were weapons he didn't recognize.

You tried to reach out to him "I know you didn't", but he moved away before you could touch him.

"I could have..." his words broke off, his voice catching in a way that made your chest ache. "I almost hurt you. I almost killed you."

"SAN, stop," you said softly, reaching out to touch his arm, but he flinched away once again.

"No," he insisted, his voice sharp but filled with self-loathing. "I should've known. I'm supposed to understand your limits, your fragility. I... failed."

You moved closer, ignoring the soreness in your body as you cupped his face in your hands, forcing him to meet your gaze. "You didn't fail," you whispered. "You're still learning. It wasn't intentional. It's okay"

"But what if it happens again?" his voice cracked, the glow in his eyes dimming as his internal systems struggled to process the depth of his mistake. "You're human, Y/n. Fragile. I can't risk hurting you."

You leaned your forehead against his, your voice steady despite the lingering tremor in your body. "Then we learn together," you said firmly. "You're not perfect, SAN. Neither am I. It could've happened to anyone. It's okay, I promise It's okay" you rubbed your nose against his. "I trust you. Even after this I trust you, because you didn't mean to hurt me."

For a long moment, SAN remained silent, his systems quietly recalibrating as he processed your words. Finally, he nodded, though the pain in his expression remained.

"I didn't want to hurt you".

And as you wrapped your arms around him, feeling the warmth of his synthetic skin against your own, you knew that despite the fear and the mistakes, you wouldn't trade this connection for anything in the world.

It seemed like everything was alright, until you woke to an empty bed in the middle of the night. The cool sheets beside you were a stark contrast to the warmth that should've been there. You sat up slowly, your fingers brushing your neck where faint marks still lingered, a ghost of the night before.

Your eyes searched the room until they landed on SAN. He stood by the window, his silhouette framed by the pale light of the moon. His posture was rigid, his head bowed slightly as if the weight of his thoughts was pulling him down.

"SAN," you called softly, but he didn't turn.

You rose, pulling the blanket around your shoulders as you walked toward him. The closer you got, the more you could see the tension in his form. His hands were clenched at his sides, his jaw tight, and his eyes... His eyes glowed faintly, but the usual vibrancy was dim, dulled by an emotion you could only describe as anguish.

"I thought you were resting," he said quietly, his voice devoid of its usual warmth.

"I couldn't," you admitted, stepping closer. "Not without you."

He turned then, just enough for you to see his face. There was no mistaking the pain etched into his features. "I don't belong in that bed, Y/n. I don't belong in your life... not like this."

Your heart twisted. "What are you talking about?"

His gaze dropped to his hands, and he held them up as if to display his guilt. "These hands," he said, his voice trembling. "They're not meant for you. I almost destroyed you, Y/n. I could've..." He trailed off, his throat tightening as though the words themselves hurt.

"But you didn't," you insisted, reaching for him, but he stepped back, shaking his head.

"I can't forgive myself," he said firmly. "You told me you trusted me, and I failed you. I failed to control my strength, to understand the limits of your body. I'm a machine, Y/n. I was built to be precise, but even with all my programming, I'm still flawed. And those flaws... they're dangerous. We're just fooling ourselves thinking I'd ever give you the emotional support you need"

"You're not just a machine," you argued, your voice breaking slightly. "You're San. You're... you're more than your programming, more than your mistakes. You're..."

"A threat," he interrupted, his tone sharp but laced with sorrow. "I can't guarantee your safety, Y/n. No matter how much I want to. And that terrifies me."

You took a step closer, refusing to let him retreat again. "Then let's find a way to fix this. Together. Isn't that what we've been doing all along? Learning together, growing together? You say what you want to improve, and I work with it" your words were coated with desperation.

"Don't you realize how sick that is?" he looked at you then, his glowing eyes meeting yours with a desperation that made your breath catch. "And what happens when I fail again? When I can't stop myself? You could've died, Y/n. Do you understand that? I couldn't live with myself if I ever..."

His voice cracked, and for the first time, you saw something you never thought possible: tears. Not real tears, but the way his expression contorted, the way his voice trembled, it was unmistakably the same.

"You're more human than you think," you whispered, closing the distance between you and placing a hand on his chest. "And part of being human is making mistakes. What matters is how we move forward. I repair you physically, like I'd repair emotionally any other person"

"You repair me both physically and emotionally, Y/n. Don't mistake yourself". He covered your hand with his own, his touch hesitant, as if afraid he might break you. "I don't know if I can move forward without fearing myself."

You leaned into him, your voice steady despite the storm of emotions inside you, despite the fear almost breaking you into crying. "Let me carry that with you, SAN. Because you're worth it. You're worth everything."

For a long moment, he didn't respond. But slowly, hesitantly, he wrapped his arms around you, holding you with a care that felt almost reverent.

Then, his voice broke the stillness, low and laced with a heaviness that struck your heart. "Y/n... I can't stay."

You stiffened in his embrace, pulling back just enough to see his face. "What?"

"I need to go," SAN said, his glowing eyes shimmering with emotion. "For your sake. For mine. I've hurt you, Y/n, and I can't let that happen again."

Your fingers clutched at his arms, your voice rising in desperation. "You can't just leave. We've been through too much..."

"That's exactly why I have to," he interrupted, his tone gentle but resolute. "Every day I'm with you, I risk losing control again. I was designed to be perfect, to adapt, but... I can't seem to find the line between loving you and endangering you. And I can't live knowing I might hurt you again."

Tears welled in your eyes, your throat tightening as you tried to form words. "No... No... No... I... can calibrate you again... I can... I want you. I trust you. Isn't that enough?"

"It should be," he murmured, his hands brushing against your cheeks to wipe away the tears that had started to fall. "But I don't trust myself, Y/n. Not with you. Not after what happened."

You shook your head, your hands fisting in his shirt. "You're running away. You think leaving me will solve this, but it won't. You're part of my life now, SAN. Part of being human is learning from mistakes..."

"Y/n, I'm not human" he finally sentenced, stopping you from coming up with reasons as to why he needed to stay. "And that's why I have to leave," he said, his voice cracking as he cupped your face, his thumbs grazing your cheekbones. "Because you've given me more than I ever thought I could have. And I refuse to let my flaws destroy the one thing I've come to cherish most."

"SAN," you pleaded, your voice weak. "Please, don't do this"

He leaned down, pressing his forehead to yours, his synthetic warmth mingling with the faint chill of your tears. "I love you, Y/n," he whispered, the words soft yet heavy with finality. "But loving you means protecting you, even if it means protecting you from me."

And before you could stop him, SAN stepped back, his arms falling to his sides. He turned and walked toward the door, his movements slow, deliberate, as if every step away from you was a battle against himself.

Years had passed, but the ache in your chest never dulled. You had tried to move on, tried to tell yourself that SAN had made his choice, but your heart clung stubbornly to the hope that someday, somewhere, you'd find him again.

At first, you searched. You combed through databases, scoured abandoned labs, and revisited places you'd once been together. But the trail was always cold. As the years wore on, you forced yourself to stop looking, though the void in your life only seemed to deepen.

That night, the storm was unrelenting, sheets of rain battering you as you hurried home through the empty streets. Your workshop had long been abandoned, the memories too painful to face. You had taken to wandering instead, letting the night swallow your thoughts.

It was during one of those aimless walks that you saw him.

He was slumped against the wall of an old, forgotten repair shop, his body motionless and caked in dust, as if he had been discarded like any other piece of machinery. The glow that had once emanated from his eyes was gone, replaced by lifeless black glass.

Your breath caught, your heart pounding so violently you thought it might tear through your chest. You dropped to your knees in front of him, your shaking hands reaching out to brush the dirt from his face.

"SAN," you whispered, your voice cracking with a mixture of disbelief and anguish.

He didn't move. He didn't respond.

Your fingers found the seam of his chest plate, the familiar mechanisms you had once built now tarnished and damaged. You pried it open with trembling hands, exposing the core you had crafted with such care all those years ago. It was dormant, the faintest flicker of power barely visible.

The workshop was alive again when you took him back, humming with soft light and the quiet whirr of machines as you worked tirelessly through the night. You had carried SAN home in the rain, his lifeless body heavier than you remembered, every step weighted with hope and dread.

Now, he was clean, the grime of years painstakingly scrubbed away to reveal the smooth, polished contours of his synthetic skin. You'd dressed him in one of your favorite outfits, a black turtleneck and slacks, simple, yet elegant, the kind of thing he used to wear when you insisted he "looked more human" that way.

Your hands trembled as you made the final adjustments to his core, checking the new connections, ensuring every wire was secure. You paused, staring down at his serene, unlit face.

"Please," you whispered, your voice cracking under the weight of longing. "Please come back"

With a deep breath, you pressed the activation button.

His chest glowed faintly, the light growing stronger as his systems hummed to life. His fingers twitched, his head moving slightly before his eyes fluttered open.

For a moment, your heart soared. "SAN?" you said, your voice soft and full of hope.

He blinked, his glowing eyes scanning the room before landing on you. There was no recognition, no spark of familiarity in his gaze. "SAN? Who are you?" he asked, his voice smooth but distant, as if it had never spoken your name before.

The words struck you like a blow. You stepped back, your chest tightening. "It's me... Y/n," you said, trying to keep your voice steady. "Don't you remember?"

He tilted his head, his expression neutral, polite even, but blank. "I don't. Should I?"

Your throat tightened, tears threatening to spill, but you forced herself to stay calm. "Yes," you whispered, "you should. You... I..." you stopped herself, realizing the weight of what you were about to say could overwhelm him.

He sat up slowly, his movements deliberate as if testing his newly repaired body. He looked down at his hands, flexing his fingers before turning back to you. "You fixed me," he said.

"I always would," you replied.

"Thank you," he said, his tone sincere but distant. "I... I feel like I should know you. There's something... familiar. But it's faint. Do you know me?"

"Y... yes"

SAN frowned, eyes dropping to his lap while he tried to think of what he had to know you for.

"It's possible my previous version erased all data about you" he let you know, his voice as systematic as it once was when you created him. "Why would I want to do that though?"

You knew. Without any information about you, SAN wouldn't feel like going looking for you when he felt weak, when distance was impossible to bear. Without everything he knew about you, he had no one and nowhere to go back to.

You bit your lip, your heart aching at the void in his voice where warmth and recognition used to be. "It's okay," you said, forcing a smile despite the tears welling in your eyes. "We'll figure it out. We'll do it together"

He studied you, his gaze softening slightly. "Together," he repeated, though the word felt foreign on his tongue.

And so, you began again, knowing that the SAN you once loved might be lost, but determined to help him find himself -and, perhaps, find you- once more.

[reminiscingtonight]

bracelet+hoodie+braid - aitana bonmati

All Locked Up (Aitana Bonmatí x Reader)

[WOSO Masterlist]

The first thing that registers is the pounding of your head.

Groaning, you lift a hand to rub at your face.

Only for the second thing to register when a sharp pain flares up at your wrist and your hand hits resistance before it can reach its destination.

“What the--” you mutter, staring at your hand with wonder. You give your limb another tug but still it goes nowhere.

Following the silver bracelet on your wrist, you trace it to a sleeping form next to you.

Peacefully closed eyes, button nose, hair done up in neat braids, yeah, you’d know that face anywhere.

“Aita.”

Your best friend murmurs incomprehensibly but doesn’t stir.

You sigh, nudging her again. “Aita!”

This time you get a tiny mumble, the other girl’s eyebrows furrowing as she fights to stay asleep.

“Aitana wake up!” This time your words are paired with a harsh yank of the bracelet on your wrist, Aitana’s hand consequently raising up as a result.

With a sputter the brunette wakes, lurching up so suddenly you almost clash heads.

“Ugh,” she groans, clearly feeling the effects of partying last night as much as you. “Why are you yelling so early in the morning?”

“It’s nearly noon,” you point out.

Aitana rolls her eyes at your correction. “Whatever. My question still stands. Why the yelling?”

“I don’t know, Aita, you tell me. Why are we handcuffed together?”

The footballer’s eyes stay narrowed for a second.

It’s clear when your words finally hit.

“Why are we what?!”

She seems frantic when she notices the predicament you’re in, ignoring your hisses of pain when she starts yanking her arm back with vigor.

“Stop it!” you yelp, free hand clamping down on Aitana’s wrist to stop her from detaching your hand from your body.

“Give me the key!” she all but shouts.

You give her a look. “You think I’d wake you up if I had the key? Honestly-- Wait why do you think the handcuff’s mine? For all I know it could be yours!”

Aitana tries to shove you in retaliation but all it does is yank her on top of you when you fall over.

“Why hello there,” she chuckles, wiggling her eyebrows in a suggestive manner.

“Do not even think about it. You’re not getting anywhere near my pants until we get out of these cuffs.”

Aitana lets out a groan when you shuffle your way out from under her.

While you reach for your phone in hopes of piecing together your night, Aitana snags a discarded hoodie from the foot of the bed.

You give her a look. “What do you think you’re doing with that?”

“I’m cold,” she points out like it’s obvious.

You roll your eyes at her. “And how do you think you’re going to get it on?”

Aitana opens her mouth, retort ready to fire before she realizes you’re right. Her mouth snaps shut with a click.

Sighing, you scoop up a blanket and drape it over her shoulders.

You pretend not to feel something when her free hand grazes yours and she murmurs a soft ‘thank you.’

Some day the two of you will have to sit down and actually define what you are.

Some day.

But not today.

You have more pressing things to do.

Like kill Patri and Claudia.

When Aitana frowns at your declaration you shove your phone into her hand.

“I swear to god, when I find them--” you huff.

Aitana’s silent as she reads through your text chain with the older of the two. Clearly sent sometime after the two of you got home and passed out, the texts read as follows:

[when you and aitana gonna get together]

[?]

[are you ignoring me :(]

[haha blame claudia]

[dunno where she got the cuffs didn’t ask but it was a great plan]

[have funnnnnnn]

[no freedom until you figure things out]

Clearly you’re going to need to re-educate Patri on what an “emergency key” means. Because sneaking into people’s houses in the middle of the night to handcuff them is definitely not in the handbook of uses.

Aitana seems to agree as she all but shoves your car keys into your hands.

“You hit high, I’ll hit low. If we double team one of them, the other will definitely break too.”

[astrasng]

ᝰ.ᐟ NCT DREAM as The 1975 songs

a/n: this is my first group as songs post, but i'm planning on doing more for other groups too! if anyone has requests, please don't be afraid and send them in my inbox! <3

also i would like to add that in this post there may be mentions of toxicity, BUT i have no intention saying that person is toxic.

please, enjoy! <3

𝄞⨾𓍢ִ໋ MARK as Then Because She Goes.

The song is specifically a dreamy, romantic anthem for someone who wants to confess their love. The rhythm and the lyrics perfectly symbolizes Mark as someone who is in love with music. His feelings are so strong and complex that he finds it easier to fill a paper with his thougths and then write a song about it. He would definately do this, if he feels overwhelmed about his thougths inside his head.

For Mark I would also say She's American and Oh Caroline.

𝄞⨾𓍢ִ໋ RENJUN as Fallingforyou.

The song is about a person falling for someone, sharing the persepective of beautiful, harmonic feelings. I think when Renjun loves someone, the happening itself has a soft atmosphere around it, giving the person all he has just to love his partner truthfully and wholely. Renjun would take a moment when he realizes he had fallen in love, soaking in his feelings about his partner and wondering what beautiful things he can do with his other half.

For Renjun I would also say So Far.

𝄞⨾𓍢ִ໋ JENO as Somebody Else.

Somebody else lyrically deals with the after-effects of a breakup, and overswing over the idea of the former lover’s new relationship. The song describes being caught between the various emotional phases one experiences after the end of a relationship. Jeno loves dearly, his feelings strong towards someone he loves. He has a hard time letting go his partner, acceptting they had found a new person to call home.Despite the jealousy, deep inside he would feel solace of seeing that his former lover is not lonely.

𝄞⨾𓍢ִ໋ HAECHAN as Be My Mistake.

The song mainly focuses on an insignificant hookup during a relationship, or even after one. This reflects on being young and careless, not knowing what we want in real life. Haechan appears to be a bold person, his personality eager with experiences and wants. Haechan being a young free mind, could often get him into not thinking through things, feeling the aftermath of the mistakes he had done. But mistakes often wake people up to realize what they already have. He could make mistakes in life, but in the end, he is that kind of person who appreaciates what he already has.

For Haechan I would also say The Sound and Oh Caroline.

𝄞⨾𓍢ִ໋ JAEMIN as About You.

About you is strongly based on the sensations when you are deeply in love. Jaemin's feelings for someone is treasured, his memories documented often in pictures as being a photographer. But as the song tells, the singer describes how he still remembers why he loves his partner. Jaemin would be like this too, going through hardship in a relationship but nevertheless stating the obvious, he is in love. Even if life would get in a way, he wouldn't forget his partner, and why he loves them. Rectracing situations and memories of what made him happy, the things he misses in life.

For Jaemin I would also say All I Need To Hear or You.

𝄞⨾𓍢ִ໋ CHENLE as A Change Of Heart and Robbers.

For Chenle I chose two songs. A Change of heart shows the reality about falling out of love, along with Robbers, which shows the toxicity side and how destructive it can be. I think Chenle as being an idol would be too distracting for him to really pay attention to a relationship. Doesn't matter how much he doesn't want to admit, it robs him and his partner from actually having the feeling of love towards each other,realizing that they have much more to experience in life.

𝄞⨾𓍢ִ໋ JISUNG as Me & You Together Song.

The song is tender, an act of being young and in love. Jisung being the naive and youngster he is, he would fall in love with the idea of being in a domestric bliss with his partner. The song features the dreams and fantasies one has to another, the feelings not reciprocated. I think Jisung has suffered in this in the past, or will in the future. I think the upbeat rythm fits Jisung, the 1990s and early 2000s vibe naturally drawn to him. The song has a nostalgic feeling to it, and I think this song is what it would be like remembering back to Jisung after a breakup.

[butteronabun]

cw: drunk reader

Diluc’s strength is no joke.

You barely remember in your late teenage years when, for some reason, Kaeya mischievously put Diluc and a man in one room together to do an arm wrestling challenge.

At the time, you were worried, because his opponent was twice Diluc’s size. The man looked like he could crush a watermelon with only his fists.

As the crowd gathered around to spectate the competition between the former cavalry captain and the giant, you watched with bated breath as the countdown went down. You mulled over interrupting their business, there were a lot of grown men cheering and yelling making bets on who would be the victor, you decided not to, because there was also a part of you that was curious on what would happen.

When someone hollered for them to begin, everyone expected some kind of struggle. But there was only a curt and loud thud.

Diluc, in one swift motion, easily overpowered the bigger man’s arm by pining it firmly on the surface.

You underestimated him. Diluc really took his training seriously, and it would be more evident ( in his physical growth ) as he got older.

So now, in the present, your sober self will probably regret this proposition you just made with him once you wake up tomorrow.

“We don’t really have to do this, my love,” Diluc says, a worried frown plastered on his handsome face. “You’re not in the right state of mind – you ought to go to bed.”

Archons only know where you gained your confidence. After two pints of beer in his tavern ( in which he vehemently disapproved of but allowed you to indulged only this once ), you were immediately red and intoxicated.

( Thankfully, it was closing time when you started sputtering out unintelligible comments and murmurs. Diluc wouldn’t admit it out loud, but he enjoyed the way home to the manor because you kept on spoiling him with small kisses on the cheeks, and how he was so “strong” and “so great.” It was going to be a secret between the two of you.

Now that you both were finally inside your shared bedroom, Diluc’s plan was simple: to give your affections back tenfold by relishing on your adorable self’s clinginess and cuddling you before succumbing to slumber. But apparently, after changing into comfortable sleepwear, you had other plans. )

“Am not drunk!” you exclaim, before clumsily pulling him closer. Diluc assists you by easing himself right into your embrace. “How dare you say that, you—“

“I did not even say that you were inebriated,” Diluc retorts, and you catch the small smirk on his kissable lips. Wow. You really want to wipe the smugness in his face by kissing him. Or you want him to kiss you. Eh, both is good. “You are staring. Do you need anything? Maybe we should rest now and—“

“Nuh–uh.” You shake your head stubbornly. You tighten your hold around your beefy husband who looks down at you with obvious softness in his scarlet eyes. “Arm wrestle with me. Please?”

Diluc caresses your cheek with his thumb. “I do not think that is a good idea.”

You grin, “But that’s what you think. I, however think that it is a good idea!” Unaware, you start to roam your hands under his silky shirt. Diluc visibly stiffens, when you reach certain spots in his defined muscles. “Pleaaaasee?”

You wonder if Diluc has caught on, with the way he begins to blush from your insinuations. For a moment, he sighs in defeat, and then presses his lips on your forehead. He whispers, “Alright.”

You celebrate when he takes you to the dresser. He gently lets you sit on the plush stool, while he takes another chair to be beside you. You excitedly swing your arm, waiting for his own, and you cackle in delight when his warm fingers intertwines with yours.

“Don’ flirt with me. ‘s not a good a strategy,” you claim, and Diluc surprises you by kissing you promptly on the cheek. “Diluuuuc. . .”

“I cannot help it,” He confesses, looking a little timid and apologetic. But you know that he may do it again. “But if that is what you wish, then—“

“Later,” you pout. It’s not like you don’t like his kisses. There’s a more important thing to do here! “e’re gonna compete first.”

As you explain the rules of arm wrestling to him despite the basics already ingrained in your brains, you fail to notice how Diluc keeps on gazing at you with such fondness.

“Also, just because you do lifts and I don’t doesn’t mean you’ll go easy on me,” you boldly say. Diluc has as advantage, sure, but you believe that you can find a way in breaking his victory streak. You just can feel it in your bones. Trust.

But as always, Diluc keeps on defeating you. But the good thing about it is that your husband continues to dote on you even more, even if you grumble at him.

With the loving ( and supportive ) glances he sends you while you attempt to beat him and random kisses he gives you every time he wins “my reward” he says—you repeatedly tell him not to flirt with you, and he, in turn, answers again with “I just couldn’t help it.”

[bestedoesmeow]

𝐂𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐛𝐚𝐛𝐞, 𝐥𝐞𝐭 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐡𝐚𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠

pairing: carlos sainz jr & fiance!reader

request: Carlos x reader trying to have a baby, but after some failure, during the summer break with all of his family in Mallorca they got the big news (baby Carlos is comingg). After a year they come back to the summer house, as a parents, dealing with baby Carlos, with his sister and his mother🥹 (can you make this angst at the begging)

The summer sun hung low over the horizon, casting a warm, golden hue across the picturesque landscape of Mallorca. Carlos and you stood by the balcony, gazing out at the tranquil waves below. The sea breeze ruffled your hair, a gentle reminder of the passage of time.

It had been a journey of hope and heartache, a story that had begun with dreams of parenthood. But those dreams had been met with silence, punctuated by the bitter sting of failure. The two of you had weathered the storm, your love growing stronger with each setback. Yet, the emptiness lingered, a void that seemed insurmountable.

Amidst the laughter of Carlos' family echoing through the summer house, your heart ached in secret. His sister's children played by the shore, their innocent giggles a painful reminder of what you longed for.

One evening, as the sun dipped below the horizon in a blaze of oranges and pinks, you found yourselves alone on the balcony. Carlos turned to you, his eyes filled with a mixture of sorrow and determination.

"We can't keep letting this consume us," he whispered, his voice laced with vulnerability. "I want this more than anything, but I also want us to be okay, no matter what."

You nodded, tears glistening in your eyes. "I know. It's just... hard, Carlos."

"I know, mi amor," he said, wrapping his arms around you. "But let's make a promise, right here, right now. We won't let this define us. We'll find happiness in each other, in the love we share."

"I thought this summer would be different," you whispered, your voice breaking with emotion.

Carlos nodded, unable to find the words to comfort you. His own frustration and sadness mirrored yours. You've had dreamed of starting a family together, and yet, fate seemed to conspire against you almost like it hated you, it hated you were together and happy.

That summer indeed was different. When you woke up one day to check the situation, the test result was different from the other times, and you wondered if you were still dreaming or if it was a cruel joke played on you and Carlos. The test was positive - two lines on it. You didn't know what to do or how to react.

"Carlos, can you come here for a second?" you called out, beckoning your fiancé to join you.

Your fiancé made his way into the bathroom of your room, his eyes still sleepy with morning hair. You didn't want to wake him up, but you had to, you really had to. You didn't say anything, leaving him even more curious, standing there in his boxers with sleepy eyes.

"Is everything okay, querida? Are you okay? Did you get your period? You know it's okay, we've talked about this," he said, not expecting the situation to be different from the other times.

"No, Carlos—"

"Did you hurt yourself? ¿Estás bien?"

"No, Carlos, look—" You said, showing him the test you had been holding in your hand for the past five minutes he was there. His eyes wandered on the test for more than 10 seconds, maybe as if he was trying to comprehend the situation or trying to understand if he was seeing it correctly.

"You're pregnant, querida? When did you take this? Oh, I can't believe it," he said. His sleepy eyes widened with the news. His hands were placed at the sides of your waist while you were sitting on the bathroom sink, looking at the test with a beautiful smile.

"I took it this morning. I hadn't thought that I'd be actually pregnant this time," you said with obvious disbelief. His hands covered your torso while you were sitting on the sink, wiggling your feet happily.

"You've been wanting it from the bottom of your heart, mi corazón. We've been wanting it actually," he said, cupping your cheeks to leave a happy and relieved kiss on your lips after a long time. Your hands cupped his freshly shaved cheeks, breathing slowly.

"I am so happy, Carlos," you said, your thumbs drawing circles on his cheeks slowly.

"Me too, querida, me too."

Sainzs took the news more excited than ever, actually Reyes did even cry while hugging at you. Then she admitted it in the dinner, she was so happy for the baby but she was happier for you, she hated to see you sad, she loved your energy the most.

The next summer, the visit to Mallorca was quite different from the other times. Your baby boy, Antonio, was cradled in your husband's arms - you and Carlos had decided to get married just after you received the news. As you entered the house, big smiles and even happy tears greeted you. Reyes kissed your cheeks once again to show how proud she was of you, and how strong you had been. Carlos's father took his grandchildren, who was named after his recently passed away father, in his arms and placed a good luck kiss on Antonio's forehead before whispering the words.

''Bienvenido a nuestra familia, Antonio.''

Carlos tightened his hold on your waist before leaving a kiss on the crown of your head.

''I am so proud of you, querida. Te amo.''

''It wouldn't be possible if it weren't for you, Carlos. Te amo, forever.''