#hes soft... :3

[mail-me-a-snail]

another commission for @meltlilies of these two SILLAY GOOBERS !! ur local chromerock rockstar is giving ur local rehabilitated ex-arasaka agent a biiig smooch

[jay-wasstuff]

Logan: trauma dumps Wade:

[goopysoup]

════ ⋆★⋆ ════

Simon Riley has a picture of you in his wallet.

On one of the few occasions where Simon went out to the pub with the rest of the task force, he insisted he had to leave early. He had business.

He had you waiting at home.

So, he took out his wallet to pay for the two beers he’d allowed himself to have, not wanting to be drunk by the time he’d gotten home to you.

Johnny noticed it first.

“Who’s that?” Johnny asks, pointing to the picture of you and Simon, grinning like a cheshire cat.

Kyle looks over at the photo and grins. Price was curious too, but made no move to be as nosy as the other two.

“My wife.”

Simon puts the money down on the table, ignoring the flabbergasted look on Johnny’s face and the laugh Kyle gave upon seeing it, Price even gave an amused smile.

“What do you mean ‘wife’?!” “Why’d ya never say anythin’!”

Simon walked out of the pub, dead set on returning to his wife.

To you.

════ ⋆★⋆ ════

[doomed2repeat]

I feel like so many people get catered to with the bad boy archetype being everywhere in the media that they can not even imagine that some people think the sexiest thing a man can be for a woman is a down bad pathetic loser. Just weak and desperate. Colin Bridgerton was on his knees, tears in his eyes BEGGING for chance.

Less bad boys, more soft men, thank you.

[moechies]

“‘s okay, calm down pretty girl,” suna purrs.

you whine, suna’s fingers coming up to comb through the soft locks of your hair. his cock slips out from under you, missing your cunt before dragging across your thigh.

suna almost laughs; laughs at the naivety of your actions. how could a girl in her 20s not know how to sit on cock? but much less is expected from a virgin, he presumes.

he sees your pretty bulbs well up with tears in frustration, a light blush crawling up to your cheeks as you nibble on your bottom lip; so he decides to play it nice.

“i—i can’t! c—can’t do it, help me, rinnie!”

“shh,” he chuckles, pressing a plush kiss against your puffed cheek. “rinnie will teach you, okay?”

you huff, not in acceptance or denial; you want him to do it all! you want him to lay you down and take you there, and not have to go though all of this humiliation. but he insists; insists that it’ll hurt less, and it’ll feel better quicker. but truly, it’s just to see you like this.

all teary and frustrated, with the cutest pout on your face. he thinks you look like a doll.

“line yourself up with the tip,” he whispers, laying back once again, leaving all of the work for you. you do as you’re told, taking a hold of his cock with writhe, shaky fingers. you lift the heavy weight from his stomach, pointing the bulbous tip peripheral to your fat slit.

“g—good,” he breathes, a warm hand coming to envelop your shaky thigh. “now press the tip against your slit, like they’re kissin.’”

suna chuckles when you huff at his poor choice of words, but you do just so, lowering yourself onto his cock just so his cock head sits within your slit.

“almost there,” he groans at the mix of your twos juices from below, breathes shaky. surely it hadn’t been his first time, but this was so damn intimate. it made him nervous. “yeah, now press yourself onto him.”

and you do; feeling your walls clasp against the fat of his cock. it's overwhelming for the both of you; and he was sure you'd fail to get him inside again. "rin—!” you gasp, a lilt burn in your cunt. you want him to make it all go away. “b—burns, rin, help,”

he shushes you gently, both hands coming to support your giving thighs from under. it's too much pressure on his sweet girl, he knows. but it would've been such a pity to miss this sight; your eyes lidded, lips swollen and plush, and entire body flexed with a thin coat of sweat that paints you, and it makes you look like gold.

“that’s it , takin’ me so well, angel girl. mhm.” he sighs, lowering you to grind onto his tip. you whine at the intrusion, in disbelief that you’d have to take any more than this some day. it’s so thick.

“r—rin,” you cry, hips following the movements of his leading hands, “it feels s—so good!” you moan. oh, you’re distracting him, gorgeous girl. suna’s left hand slips from under, allowing your weight to pummel your cunt further onto his dick on accident.

“fuck, sorry baby.”

you squeal in a slight pain, fist clenching against his shoulder. you throw your head back unintentionally, throat dry with a hoarse gasp.

suna holds still, and it feels a lot better once you’ve settled down. “feels better angel? c’mon, tell rin.” you mewl in content, giving him a short peck on the lips. “m-mhm, feels better.. hnn—“

you’re a sweet little thing, and he adores every single inch of you.

“kay, doll. ‘s time to make rinnie feel good too, okay ?”

[lazylittledragon]

Hey so I'm the goober that's writing the Baldur's Skate fanfic. When thinking about the worldbuilding I had a question. What do you imagine Drizzt is doing? (I like to think he's an Olympic speedskater but 🤷🏼)

tHIS IS THE BEST QUESTION EVER

i really like the idea of him being a figure skater bc the books always describe him as lithe and graceful (and that swordfighting is like dancing to him 🥺🥺). and also astarion being obsessed with him would make even more sense akfdhdfj

also this is basically the equivalent of being at your community theatre and then meryl streep shows up

[theoldkyokodied]

The Allegiance of the Ascended Vampire and the New God of Magic

[lostinmycolor]

his touches are gentle. he's a strong man, a lot stronger than you. he could easily toss you around like a ragdoll, squeeze you, spank you. he does sometimes, when you beg so nicely with that sweet voice of yours. because how could he ever say no to you? but most times, he's gentle. he prefers it that way. he handles you like you're made of porcelain, like you'll crumble in his hands if he's a little too rough

his voice is gentle too. it's deep, the timbre strong enough to reverberate through your bones. but he only speaks this softly around you. you deserve to be spoken to like this. you're such a good girl for him, he could never raise his voice at you, even if he were upset. he'd live with a guilty conscious for the rest of his life if he did that.

his breathing is heavy from sudden the absence of the friction as he stops to adjust your position, chest rising and falling vigorously as he wraps his fingers around one of your ankles, carefully lifting it over his shoulder, his free hand gently holding your other leg down against the mattress. you protest softly, wanting him to keep going, and he smiles fondly at the sound of your needy whine.

“i know sweetie, i know,” he says softly, soothingly rubbing your leg that’s now draped onto his shoulder before continuing his gentle ministrations, his hips lightly bumping against yours, the light sound of your bodies colliding joining the sound of your labored breathing and soft moans.

his touches are gentle, just like his love. his love is soft, gentle—quiet, but in a way that speaks volumes. his love is perfect, like when you hear a song that perks up your ears, or eat a food that you were craving for so long. it’s perfect, like when he angles his hips just right to hit that spot inside of you that makes your eyes rolls back, your back arch off the bed. it’s just what you need.

he leans down to wrap an arm around your torso, lifting you in a way that makes your lower abdomen touch his with every thrust, the warmth of his body closer against yours making your skin prickle, and you can’t help the way you instinctively push your hips up to meet his, every movement making the sensation more intense.

you’re perfect to him too, especially when you’re like this—pressing your thigh against his hip more firmly, writhing and mewling so sweetly under him as you feel yourself starting to tip over the edge, so close to falling into that abyss of bliss, closer to reaching the high you’re so desperately craving.

there’s really no love purer than his, you realize, as he gently grabs your face, making you look up at him, his fingers holding your jaw firmly but not enough to cause any type of discomfort. you realize it when he looks straight into your eyes as he spills into you, that final thrust he gives you enough to finally tip you over that edge, a soft “that’s my girl” leaving his lips as he watches you succumb to the pleasure. you realize it when he leans down to place the softest kiss against your lips, and you feel how his own lips curl into a tender smile as he does so.

there is and never will be a love purer than his.

[iwasbored777]

They asked Lee Majdoub what he thinks of Stobotnik vs what Stone thinks of it and this man chose violence omg the more I read the more painful it gets

[aysrin]

snowfrin <3

[diz-eaze]

albedo and his alternative to baby trap you :(

; soft yandere, parent trap 2.0 but is it really babytrap if you lowkey told him you wouldn't mind a child (yes it still is), low-key delusional albedo, not proofread, throwback to fontaine's quest and albedo teaser #og,

the concept of breathing life into what was once an illustration is ludicrous. blasphemous, even. if the original hydro archon was punished for turning her familiars into a new race of humans, then is it not fair for an alchemist to be smithed down for a similar sin?

but the silence of the heavens has been going on for numerous centuries; it's hard for albedo to feel even a smidgen of fear, nevermind finding a speck of regret.

being born with special capabilities is rare. training under a great sinner of khaenri'ah is even rarer - it leaves him with skills that far surpasses even the average vision bearer. it grants him the power to tamper and play with the very notion of life itself.

a memory plays at the back of his mind as he settles down his painting materials, for once away from the frigid winters of dragonspine in favor of the fresh breeze found in windrise.

"the traveler told me of what happened in fontaine," albedo begins, gently taking the test tube you pass onto him. "of what became of their prophecy."

"oh?" you muse, now idly playing with the microscope lenses. "pray tell."

albedo settles his canvas down on the stable easel stand, taking out his paints and brushes in preparation. the ever-present wind blows through his messy hair, and he welcomes it.

"it would seem that fontainians were originally oceanids, only transformed into humans by the previous hydro archon." his eyes are trained upon the drops of sweet flower extract falling into the narrow test tube. "the prophecy was punishment for their sin."

"huh," you breathe out, placing down the lenses to look at him. he fights the urge to look away from his materials. "i can't tell if the arrogant one in this situation is the hydro archon or the heavenly principles themselves."

he swatches out each paint on his person, and he lines up the needed brushes for this personal project of his. the first brush, a round brush, is used to prime the canvas.

albedo finishes extracting the sweet flower and takes out a damp cloth to wipe his table's surface with. "why so?"

"think about it," you saunter up to him, leaning in unbearably close to survey his work. in this proximity, he can smell traces of cecilia flowers and windwheel asters on you. his grip on the damp cloth tightens subtly.

"the heavens think of themselves to be the absolute rulers of this world," you puff your cheeks out childishly. "yet they are more akin to tyrants. celestial nails, sins, punishments, the cataclysm... a creation of life is much tamer compared to the heinous acts they've committed!"

albedo mixes and matches his paints - a tint of red, a dollop of brown, tiny amounts yellow, and white added in moderation - in order to emulate the shade closest to your skin tone. his second brush, a flat brush, is used to lay down the overall shape of what he envisions.

"you think so?" he questions, relocating the test tube on its designated rack. he makes no move to inch away from you - not that he wants to, never. "but 'humans' who are not born from breeding are considered to be an anomaly. they are considered an outlier, are they not?"

not that he cares, may it be sinful or otherwise. he merely tells this to get a feel of you, to take a dive into your mind.

"i care little of how a human is produced," you huff out, leaning even more to disrupt his orderly workflow. he wonders how you'd react if he told you he wouldn't care should you trash his camp, so long as you continue to be shoulder to shoulder with him like this. "if it's sentient, it has life. i think all life should be valued, regardless of the creation method. the creations themselves didn't ask to be brought to this world, either."

his deft fingers scrapes paints together to match his hair next. only little tufts of hair for now. the brush dips into the water to be rid of its previous color, reborn anew into a clean slate. he pats it down with a spare cloth and goes back to painting once again.

"you're not wrong," albedo comments, eyes trailing after the flutter of your lashes. the body heat that emanates from you causes his synthetic one to gradually warm up, too.

he hesitates, then. licking his lips as if to buy time before he voices out the question stuck in his throat. you must have noticed his pause, for you peer at him in silent questioning. you nudge him slightly, and his body sways from the motion.

there is little he fears in this world. not when he was raised in the aftermath of the cataclysm, horrors unknown to normal people are found there. but the thought of your opinion of him souring slightly has his heart palpating in dread.

albedo leans closer to the canvas, intent on detailing the cherubic face as much as possible. focused on creating the perfect specimen that earns your adoration.

a beat passes.

"then," he looks down at his workspace, unable to find the strength to look you straight in the eyes. "what do you think of creating life artificially, from the likeness of your image?"

you blink once and tilt your head, though he does not see it. you crowd closer to him, now nearly chest to chest. if you inch even closer, he fears you'll fear the loud thumps resounding deep within his chest.

"a life... with my likeness?" you parrot back, still not comprehending him fully. then, your eyes widen, as if struck with realization. "oh! you mean your magical drawings, right? i still remember that vishap you created! i am dismayed at the poor thing's lower half, however."

his masterpiece is almost finished. sunset is near, and the wind is starting to pick up. it feels as if barbatos himself is advising albedo to stop with his actions. but not even the divine nail from celestia would tear him apart from this painting.

his mind was lingering more on the alchemical method. though, if this is the method that you prefer, then it will be what he goes through with.

"perhaps," still, he nods, "so, what do you think of it?"

you smile, a gleaming, precious one that surpasses crystalflies. "since it's a hypothetical, i suppose the idea would be cute."

the verbal 'hypothetical' is blocked out from his illusioned mind, for he locks onto your explicit agreement, even going as far as to call his idea cute.

he smiles, clearly pleased with your answer.

"i am glad to see you so enthusiastic about this," he parts away from you and begins to tidy up his workspace with renewed vigor, moving with a sense of purpose.

you confusedly look at his back, "about what?"

but you're met with no reply.

albedo finishes his painting with the last brushstroke being an eyelash of the infant. he steps back to observe for any errors made, but he finds none. excitement courses through his body, eager to bring life to this illustration. his mind is already running amok with all the domesticity he will soon witness you do.

his gloves hands reach into the canvas, surpassing the physical barrier as he reaches for the finished painting. it's similar to reaching into a void, but he knows how to navigate this power of his. when he tugs his hands back into reality, he is not empty handed.

in his hands is a crying infant, not just any infant, but his baby with you. within a few seconds after giving it life, the infant opens its mouth and wails.

he kisses the top of its head, endeared at the sight of pale blond strands.

"shhh, your father is here now."

he understands the original hydro archon now. even he would endanger the lives of others for the creation of life.

[liltaireissocute]

i see everyone redrawing this soft Percy so

everyone run and i run :D

(i'm taking heavy artistic liberties with Percy's hair again)

[fairyofshampgyu]

i love that beomgyus successfully putting on some muscle, would love 2 see u write something and add some praise for his new arms or smth 😋 love ur work !!!<33

Yess me too I never would have thought buff gyu would make a comeback and he seems so much more confident about his body I’m so happy for him <3 needless to say I still go positively insane seeing his arms sfhhgd…anyway

PRAISE KINK W BUFF GYU !!

it’s the morning, both of you lazily laying in bed still sleepy, legs tangled and arms encircled around each other. The room tinged in a warm, comforting yellow, rays of sunlight highlighting his sleepy face and soft features of his face and beomie just looks too cute, clinging to you like a koala. You know he’s been working out more than ever recently, even coming back from the gym late just last night. And as you lay cuddling together, his arms wrapped around you and holding you, you could feel just how considerably bigger his arms had gotten in such little time. It’s subtle but definite. His muscles, no longer just soft and lean but shaped toned.

You’re just filled with warmth at the sight of him, and just feel the need to love and praise him at that exact moment. Urgently. You adore beomgyu and his body and think he’s perfect in every form no matter and you hadn’t worshipped him for the new change yet, hadn’t appreciated him properly yet. You know just how much he loves your praises and how much it affects him, all giggly and grinning, eyes turning the shapes of little crescent moons, cheeks rosy, brown puppy eyes impossibly bigger, waiting for you to praise him even more, chases every compliment like it’s the air he breathes.

And so you do, pulling away from his arms and he immediately blinks open, making him raise a quizzical brow at you, a pout already forming like he’s offended you’re trying to move, you now hovering over him, taking ahold of both his wrists and placing them either side of his head, making his biceps flex at that and look even bigger, on display for you. You hold his hands there, leaning down to kiss his lips slow and he kisses back instantly, melting into it. Then you pepper his face lightly with kisses, nose, cheeks, forehead, eyelids and he’s softly giggling already making your heart swell—“stopp” trying to cover his face but you know he loves it.

A few kisses to his neck too and then you move your lips to his biceps, pausing to admire them kissing them, telling him how much you love them—“You’ve gotten so big, gyu…” and he lets out a loud embarrassed laugh, tilting his head away trying to playing it cool, half embarrassed, half excited and thoroughly enjoying this.

You bite down on the flesh of his arm, just enough to leave a little mark. He jolts, gasping. “you’re soo cute beomie…” you mumble against his skin, peppering kisses all over his biceps—“my strong, pretty boy.” and that gets him. he bites down on his lip, trying to suppress a grin, ears already turning pink and he’s suddenly all flustered and shy, you contining your praises and sucking on the flesh of his arms, kissing them harshly and biting leaving hickeys and love bites, licking a stripe, marking up his arms and they look so pretty like that, it makes his cheeks heat and up go red, whining softly and even whimpering, squirming underneath you. Were his arms sensitive? At least if he wears shirts or tank tops and people go ogling at his arms now, everyone will know he’s all yours.

You just pepper kisses everywhere, body littered with all sorts of marks, tummy, chest, inner thighs, ankles, telling him he’s such a perfect gorgeous boy and you love him and his body, you know he’s eating up every word, even begging you to say more, all whiney and flustered, whimpering loudly, feeling mushy, the praises and marking of his body, all the hickeys making him so worked up and horny by now all going to his pretty little head, he’s dazed and his chest is heaving up and down. His whole body flushed, still holding his hand, interlocking and he’s gripping it tightly—“you like this?” you ask, mouthing against his chest, playing with his nipples, swirling your tongue around the bud and kissing, “getting all horny just praised like this?” Beomgyu just nods deliriously and desperately, too breathless to speak. “y-yeah… please… keep going…”

You kiss his lips again, harder this time, pulling his bottom lip between your teeth and he moans, pulling away to look at you imploringly, panting, so debauched with half lidded eyes and fluttering doll lashes, “please, baby…need you so bad”, his cock all hard and leaky by everything you’ve done to him especially when you were kissing on his inner thighs, gripping them and teasingly leaving hickeys everywhere, moving your lips up so close to where he needs it most.

And how can you ever deny your pretty boy?

[strange-mage]

POV: Gortash wants you

[baeshijima]

hmmm.... thoughts about composer!reader, whose pieces are always created for and featured in mr reca's films/projects.

people aren't sure when it first started, but in the release of one of his prior films was an ost. of course, it's not unusual to have music in such projects, but that one had felt... different, somehow — in the way its composition struck the chords of many, with billions across the cosmos instantly scouring for who made that piece.

it, of course, didn't take all that long when your name was featured in the credits. however there was barely any information aside from your name and credentials. (seriously, how could there not even be a single photo?!) no one knew what you looked like for quite a long time, only ever recognising your name and your music; even despite the numerous interviews, mr reca had never disclosed anything about you other than your talents. it came to a point where everyone believed they would never see your appearance.

well, until all hell broke loose during the annual intergalactic film awards, that is.

everyone already knew the drill — if mr reca had directed a film that year, it would undoubtedly win the adapted/original screenplay, cinematography, directing, production design, sound, music (original score and song), and film of the year awards, which also led to you winning both the music awards. usually, the composers would be the ones to collect said awards. however, the masses have become used to mr reca being the one to collect them on your behalf with thank you's also on your behalf.

that's how it's been ever since you made your mark in the universe, and so it really is understandable the uproar created by those in and out of attendance when the one who went collect the two awards wasn't the esteemed director, but a completely unfamiliar person; you.

you are definitely younger than they originally thought, having believed it must have been someone of a senior status of sorts to have consistently created such masterpieces. all eyes are trained on you as you step on stage and into the limelight for the first time, the light enhancing your features and formal attire when approaching the mic with a small flashcard in hand. your mouth opens, and the audience leans in with baited breaths as they await your first words.

...only for nothing to come out.

everyone watches a little dumbfounded as you try to talk once more but, aside from gaping like a fish, your efforts remain futile. it doesn't take long for you to clamp your mouth and eyes shut, even raising the awards in front of you in an attempt to shield your face from the crowd.

you... you were just really shy. or maybe a little...socially awkward, perhaps...? if this was the reason you never showed yourself, then they're beginning to understand why...

it passes in a blur — quite literally in that of brown. one moment you are alone on the stage, the next you have the presence of the renown director standing slightly in front of you, as though acting as a shield from the many prying eyes.

"apologies," he begins, his usual smile on display, "but my dearest composer has been suffering with a sore throat these past few days. on their behalf, we thank you all kindly for your support in our work."

and then he swiftly leaves with you tucked under and shielded by his coat, murmuring unreadable words to you as you both disappear backstage and leave everyone in a state of frenzy; to both those inside the ceremonial hall, and to those watching live elsewhere.

(it was only discovered after the awards ceremony concluded what the director had said to you, with the uploader being dubbed as a holy saint for their contributions to society. while the visual aspects of the video itself were not the clearest, barely anyone had it within themselves to complain when the audio was clear as crystal:

"and here i thought you were going to be brave and face your stage fright after all that pep-talk you gave yourself on the way here."

"i'm sorry... i really thought i could do it this time..."

"now, now, i'm merely teasing. you made a big step just making an appearance here today. i know how much courage this took for you, and i'm proud of you for facing it."

"really...?"

"but of course. i'm always proud of you, [name]. there is not a moment where i haven't been.")

(it also was not long until the cosmos was taken by storm when various pictures snapped during the awards ceremony spread. the millions of candids featuring you were one of the most liked and shared, with the top spot joined by the sequence of pictures taken of mr reca's soft expression when watching you onstage, into his realisation of your predicament, into him running onstage and shielding you from the cameras when making your way backstage.)

(...the drastic influx of fan accounts dedicated to both you alone and to you and reca should really be a studied phenomenon.)

[fishcalcart]

Selkie!stone showing off his teeth >:)