#singular (1) key

[crystallizsch]

HAPPY 500TH LOGIN TO US GRIMMY

MY CAT SON IS HERE TO CELEBRATE WITH ME

[okcoolthanks]

MORE KEYS FOR THE KEY COLLECTION

[offthewall1979]

i can't express how insane this is.

[madamechrissy]

Secret OF Star! Nanami

warnings - - masturbation (Nanami ofccc) filming porn, mentions of cum, thoughts of fucking the reader, mentions of oral (f receiving)

Pairings- this is Nanami thirsting after reader from Baby You're A Star!

Mmmkay Baby You're a Star at this point is it's own AU - we have Pornstar! Gojo ofc, pornstar! Sugu, pornstar! Kuna - anddd introducing Secret OF Star! Nanami now. This way you all get a little insight into the man who's very interested in reader hehe <3 This idea was inspired by my mootie @coralbae !!!

Secret OF Star! Nanami is a business man by day, professional as can be, and he works hard, but never, ever past five (if he does, it's a horrible day) but when he gets home, his work is not done, it just changes a bit. Nanami Kento just happens to be in the top 1% of all Onlyfans stars - but it's all under lock and key, only a couple people know. He's completely faceless and incognito, his body and voice alone have carried him right up to the top.

It all started from him messing around with some ASMR, as people just love the sound of Nanami's voice - this was all of course anonymous as well. Soon, he started doing boyfriend audios - how is your day, darling? - fuck, you look so exquisite - he'd murmur in that soft drawl of his, like a caress for all their ears. Then, the ASMRs got just a little sexier, and Nanami started making so much extra money. As someone who is looking to retire early, this is all just extra on top of his 401k.

So how Nanami he get to where he is now, jerking his thick straight cock, with nothing on but an open dark blue business shirt and a silky tie sitting between his huge pecks? Well, it was just the progression of things, and Nanami is anything if not a practical man. The first time he just teased a bit, taking off his black leather belt and smacking it in his hands a few times, murmuring some dominating words softly - and the women went insane for it, leading to him doing more and more.

The ASMRs got dirtier - filthy in fact. Secret OF Star! Nanami loved to talk about how he'd lap at a pretty pussy, since that was his favorite thing to do. But then, he realized he needed sound effects, so the best idea was to have one of his pretty regular submissive girls - little known fact, he loves to dominate, even if he does it sweetly - to let him eat her pussy with a microphone right against it. She spread wide just for him as he did just that, the slurping as she drooled down his lips audible, right along with the squelching when his thick digits slotted into her slick, eager hole, the only thing was she had to keep quiet, though she of course failed here and there, her gasps echoing as pretty background sounds to make the girls feel even more immersed.

That ASMR went viral, as Nanami did an edit - thanks to his field of computer design it was easy - using a mix of him guiding women through their orgasm and sounds of eating them out. Well, the sounds and his words made him so much money it was enough he could just quit his normal job, but of course - why turn down another opportunity for more money? He had her come over and made sure to generously share some of the profits, as he got to eat pussy and make bank. But then, there were people were dying to see more of the mysterious man, who he kept teasing little glimpses of his toned, chiseled body, until they begged for more - and paid for more.

The first reveal of his huge dick on cam was actually just one singular picture that made more than his monthly salary - but Nanami needed those good work benefits too, so he kept on. It doesn't hurt that you're at his job, and you're so pretty to fucking look at too. It's often he catches a glimpse of you bent over, your breasts in that top, catches you taking of your glasses and nervously nipping at the edge of the arms of them. So often you walk by him and smile, bend over to make a copy, and he thinks of new filthy things to speak to his fans that night.

Right now Kento is stroking his girthy length, the camera in landscape mode to be careful to only show his lower body, his thick muscled bare thighs. Nanami spits down on it, using the bubbly clear liquid to lubricate it, making those veins that wrap him positively glisten, reading a few of the comments behind his dark green glasses, amongst the endless tips that pour. They're all dying to have him clearly, and sure that feels flattering, but when he's fisting his cock and moaning softly to the excited, well paying viewers, his mind drifts just a bit to you.

How would love to fuck into your pretty pussy, have you cum all over his cock, the thoughts alone while picturing the feeling of your soft skin under his fingers has him jerking his cock faster, hazel eyes fluttering shut, moaning louder for the adoring fans. He can see it vividly now, you riding him in his car, as he slams his thick cock up inside you - he's so sure he'd stretch you out on his cock. He can picture bending you over that desk of yours and feeling your cunt clench all around him, so vivid he's more sensitive now, pinching his tip and feeling his cock pulsing, so ready to fill you.

Nanami's cum starts spurting hot out of his little hole right on that tip, picturing much better places for it, perhaps he'd tie your wrists with his silky tie, have you on your knees swallowing him - 'Fuck...' - is his only soft word he whispers, he's not so pretentious as many of the OF men on the platform, he doesn't talk all that shit, and the viewers love to watch him grunt, huff and hoarsely moan. The camera gets the perfect view of him, of all of that white cum pouring out, now coating him in strings wrapping his length. After taking a breath, he stands up and walks over to the phone, giving them a close up of the mess he's made thinking of you, before shutting it off. He smirks as he reads more and more comments, he usually doesn't cum that much of course, but thinking of you didn't help anything.

He'd just kissed you last night, felt the heat between your thighs, saw your nipples press against your silky dress that fit you so perfect, but there was one obstacle and also pure enjoyment - Satoru Gojo. A jealous as fuck Satoru Gojo, the top pornstar there was - only because Nanami won't go that far of course. And he clearly couldn't stand the sight of Nanami near you. Just picturing his pouty, bratty looking expression when Nanami asked you out made him chuckle softly in his pretty, sparkling clean apartment. When he'd made deliberate touches along your body, he could feel the daggers being shot out at him.

He knows exactly who Satoru is, if Nanami went full out and showed his face, if he fucked women on set, he knows he'd beat him out for the top spot, his cock was just thicker than Satoru's was. He's stumbled upon clips, they're everywhere of course. But Nanami was thicker than almost anyone in the industry, buffer than most of them, and he came buckets, which he's currently cleaning off, sucking in a breath at how sensitive he was as he cleans the mess he's made up.

Secret OF Star! Nanami wonders if you know who Satoru is, surely a sweet little innocent thing like you wouldn't, right?

Hehe this reader is just SURROUNDED by pornstars my god lol, some of ya'll really like Nanami though so thought I'd show his lil sneaky side!

perm tags- @alt--er--love @nanasukii28 @cuntphoric @loafteaw @n1vi @indiewritesxoxo @miizuzu @beachaddict48 @honeybunnnnie @re-tired-succubus @gojosukuna2268 @waterfal-ling @1brii @wise-fangirl @moncher-ire @orikixx @uhnosav @baepsays @designerpvssy @orixxxana @airandyeah @nina-from-317 @evelynxxo @naammiii @soyokosuguru @espresso1patronum @tomboy-disaster @iam-souless @lanii-i @cristy-101 @doeeyestoji @cvixmei @mutsu422 @ivyvenus333 @g00seg1rl @suki91 @satoao-main @fairygardenprincesss @theonlyjuggernaut @huntyhuntycunty @lovelockdownff @ibreathesmut @s777athv @twinklywinkly @akiii143 @squeezyvalkyrie @cookielovesbook-akie @oinksa @grignardsreagent

[comatosebunny09]

and they were roommates | sylus

sum: sylus responds to an online ad for a roommate. you suddenly have this tall, well-spoken, handsome man living in the attic, playing classical music, tinkering with things he built, and humming off-key while he makes you pancakes in the morning before disappearing for weeks at a time. cw: modern au, roommate au, slice of life, slow burn, mild language, mutual pining, romantic tension, cheesiness, 1.3k wc now playing: still - you’ll never get to heaven part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 5 | part 6

Sleep won’t find you tonight.

You’re hyper-aware of everything, from the wind weaving through the maple leaves outside to the moth fluttering about your room, hurling itself against the windowpane like it pays rent. 

The comforter’s wrapped around your legs in a cocoon. Moonlight bleeds in silver streaks across your body as you sit up. 

With a sigh, you smooth back your hair, studying the wrinkles in your bedspread. 

There is no singular thing that’s got you on edge. It’s a bit of everything—work, life, your future, your roomie back and roaming the halls of your house like an apparition, and that moth nearly giving you a heart attack, flying into your face.

He’s thankfully quiet, Sylus. Always is, mindful of your sleeping schedule despite being a night owl himself. A glance at your phone reveals it’s a little past midnight. You’re gonna be hurting later. 

Maybe it is him. You’ve been all jittery and tongue-tied since last week when he alluded to something you were too stupid to pick up on. When he came so close to kissing you and shifting the tide of your relationship after months of tiptoeing around this budding feeling. But you just had to open your big, dumb mouth and drive that wedge even deeper.

Lately, your mind’s been a whirl of confusion, every little smirk, mischievous glint in his eye, and idle brush of fingers taking on new meaning. 

Figuring some cold water would help ease your nerves, you haul yourself from your bed and shrug into one of your cardigans.

Arms crossed to ward off the crisp whisper of the AC, you pad down the stairs, mindful of each creak in the floorboards, trying not to rouse your roommate on the off chance that he is asleep. 

The jaundiced glow from the kitchen spills into the hallway as you make your way down. Cold beneath your bare feet. You stop at the common area’s threshold when you see him—that hulking figure hunched over the table, tinkering with something too small for his hands. 

There’s a tiny divot between his brows, lips tight with concentration. He’s got his AirPods in. Sweater sleeves rolled up to the crooks of his elbows, fingers shifting between a small Philips head and wire cutters.  

You watch him a little longer, hip propped on the doorframe, waiting to see if he’ll notice you. Come to think of it, his hair’s gotten longer, sweeping over broad shoulders, a little tousled and damp, probably from a shower. He doesn’t look as spent as he did when he first came back. Things must be going well at work.

Done ogling him like a creep, you pad into the dining room. He startles slightly when he catches sight of you, expression easing from mild surprise to an effortless crook of the lips. He tugs out an AirPod, fixing you with those brilliant, boyish red eyes.

“Sorry. Did I wake you?”

You wave a dismissive hand, moving to settle beside him on the table. Rest your feet on the chair, ignoring the static discharge between your bodies, tingling your skin. “Nah. The existential dread did.”

He huffs a quiet laugh, turning his attention back to the contraption out front after taking a swig from his mug. “It tends to do that.”

You eye the mess of wiring and microchips with a raised brow, slightly curled over, nudging his thigh with your toes. 

“That looks like a detonator.”

“It is,” he answers too quickly, matter-of-factly, not looking up.

It takes a beat, but you catch onto his sarcasm. He’s messing with you. Your Sylus, obsessed with Classical music, film noir, talking to a mechanical bird he built like it’s a real one, and helping old ladies pull weeds out of the kindness of his heart, constructing a detonator? 

Yeah. You are tired. 

“You planning to blow up a hospital?”

He holds one of the chips strewn across the table to the light with a set of tweezers, turning it over, scrutinizing it like a gem. “You have no idea.”

You snort, peeling yourself from the table after clapping him on the shoulder. Squeeze, and—has he always been this pleasantly rigid?

“Alright, Heath Ledger,” you taunt, walking into the kitchen. “You have fun with your plans to take over Gotham City.”

You’re halfway to the fridge when the hot scrawl of steam catches in your periphery near the stove. You turn towards its source—your favorite mug on the counter, filled with something dark and earthy, the faint scent of broken apple skin beckoning to you.

“Chamomile,” Sylus’ voice carries from the dining area, “to help you sleep.”

It’s like he has eyes in the back of his head. That, or he knows you too well, and you suppress those delightful little thrills and that stupid smile threatening to break out onto your face when you take the mug between your palms.

You lean against the counter for a sip. It’s warm. Delightfully warm, pooling in your belly, the right amount of sweet buried beneath its bitter bite. 

“Do you always make tea for two?” A shoddy attempt at flirting. A thank you masked by sarcasm.

You watch his shoulder blades swim beneath his sweater as he shrugs. “Only when I know someone can’t sleep.”

You scoff, venturing back to his side, sliding onto your spot on the table that’s still warm. You study him from the rim of your mug held to your lips as the crackle of plastic and copper wiring salts the air—those unfairly pretty lashes, the quiet confidence in his eyes, his sloped nose. 

You’re staring again. A tad too long, blinking away your reverie, the steam watering your eyes, and you sip your tea.

If he notices, he doesn’t mention it. Just smiles that knowing smile, in on a secret you know nothing of.

“You know, I once read that insomnia is a byproduct of avoiding something.”

You stiffen. He doesn’t have to look at you for you to know he’s calling you out in that way that bleeds Sylus. You’re in this picture, and you don’t like it.

Your tone is sagely. “You read that somewhere? I’m assuming from one of those old, moldy tomes in your room?”

He chuckles, and you love that sound. It pinches something in your belly. Reminds you of fall and mahogany and cured leather sliding against your fingertips.

The silence settles again. Comfortable, typical. You’ve moved closer without noticing, his arm teasing your thigh each time he shifts. You could conquer the space between you with a breath out. You’re closer than roommates, both physically and metaphorically.  

You’re both keenly aware of that fact, yet neither of you makes a move to bridge the gap. 

Setting down your mug, you stuff your hands in your cardigan pockets. Drop your shoulders along with your defenses, voice thick in your throat.

“What if I said I wasn’t trying to avoid anything, but instead trying to confront something?”

You don’t know what it is about him that makes you feel so at ease. Gives you diarrhea of the mouth. 

He sets his supplies down with a soft, definitive clack. Slowly turns your way, and you’re holding your breath. His eyes slide over your features like he’s searching for something. Like he’s weighing something in his mind before they snap to yours. 

“Then I’d say you’re not alone.”

The atmosphere between you tilts. Thickens with particles rubbing together so fast, it grows hot. Neither of you looks away, and neither of you makes a move to go. 

You’re just two idiots wordlessly feeling each other out, trying not to burn up like meteors streaking across the stratosphere. 

One step forward feels like another ten back.  

[gloomwitchwrites]

First of all, I 100% know this is an overused trope... but still....

What If 141 2 people 1 bed trope

Who cares that it's an overused trope? It's a classic for a reason!

I will never tire of a one bed trope. It can be steamy and sexy. It can be angsty. It can be tense. It can literally be so many things at once. It's also a wonderful canvas to play around, and I had a lot of fun with this one. I know you've waited for this one for a while. I hope you enjoy it! :)

For the masterlist and how to submit your own request, click HERE

Task Force 141 x TF141 Female Reader

Content & Warnings: swearing, unprotected piv, creampie, multiple positions, rough kissing, vaginal fingering, oral sex, admission of feelings, pretend sex, fake dating/married

Word Count: 6.3k

ao3 // main masterlist // imagines & what if masterlist

John Price

“Fuck,” mutters Price.

You glance over your shoulder. Captain Price stands near the hotel window, the gauzy blinds closed but the thicker ones bunched to the sides, allowing in natural light. He’s staring at something happening in the parking lot.

“What it is?” you ask, starting to walk over to him.

“They might have found us.”

Dread flares hot, clenching the muscles in your stomach until it hurts. “Are you sure?”

Price nods, and then backs away from the window. “There’s no way they saw our faces during the infiltration. We wore masks. Might have tracked the stolen car.”

“We need to leave,” you say, but Price shakes his head.

“There’s too many of them, and they’re likely watching all exits on the main floor.” He sighs. “We need to play this right.”

The two of you are freshly showered, and the clothes you wore for the infiltration have already been discarded. Burned—actually, somewhere in the deserts of Arizona. At the moment, the two of you look like civilians.

“They can’t search the building, John. Not without bloodshed.”

He runs a hand through his hair, his gaze darting across the room as his brain works something over. You fidget, picking at your nails. It’s a terrible habit. One you do when you’re nervous.

Price glances at you and your heart drops. “They look official, and that’s probably all that matters. The scrawny teenager at the front desk isn’t going to put up a fight if the credentials appear legitimate.”

“Fuck,” you whisper, striding toward the window to look for yourself.

Captain Price is right. They do look official. They also look fucking terrifying which would scare anyone into compliance if you don’t know what to look for.

“We’re on the bottom floor,” you say, stepping back.

“I know,” growls Price. He pivots, examining the entire room.

He goes for the car keys and shuts them inside the safe. The only other thing in the room is a duffle bag full of plain clothes and generic toiletries. Price pushes clothes aside and then draws out the pistol hiding beneath it all. He checks the clip and then preps the barrel.

“Take off your clothes.”

“What?” you ask, startled.

Price walks over to the singular bed in the room, tucking the gun beneath the pillows. “Do you trust me?”

“Absolutely,” you affirm.

“Then take off your clothes,” repeats Price, reaching behind his head with one hand to grab the collar of his shirt. He pulls it over and off, tossing it aside.

“Spread it around. Make a mess,” he instructs as he goes for the belt on his jeans.

For a moment, you’re stunned, staring at Captain Price’s bare chest. While he’s muscular, it isn’t from a life in the gym. He is thick in all the right places. A solid wall with a beautiful dusting of dark hair that travels downward.

The belt is gone, and that too is tossed aside.

Without removing your gaze, you tentatively discard your shirt, but keep your bra on. It’s a barrier. A safety net. Price isn’t even glancing at you, but you do notice some color at the tops of his cheeks. A soft pink that makes your thoughts spiral outward to imagine if this gentle blush is the same color as the head of his cock.

Price’s jeans go next, already discarded before you move on to the next article of clothing. He’s only in socks and black boxer briefs. There is so much of him on display that you’re starting to forget yourself.

He glances at you, and that color in his cheeks darken. “You’re still dressed.”

You open your mouth to answer but then you hear a shout from down the hall and sharp banging on a door. They’re far too close.

This urges you on, moving with faster intention, and once you’re down to just your bra and underwear, you finally glance at Price again.

Price—who is naked. Completely bare. And you have a full view of what he’s been packing underneath all that.

Fuck.

He approaches the bed, and tugs back the sheets. The muscles in his arms and back tense as he crumples the bedding to sexed perfection—as if the two of you have been going at it for hours.

Price sits down on the edge of the bed and slides underneath, his legs parting enough that you get a glimpse of everything. This man isn’t even fully hard but from what you can see, it would be a tight fit if you actually sat on him.

Lifting a pillow, Price checks for the pistol and then sets it back, settling into the sheets. He frowns slightly when his attention returns to you.

“All of that has to go.”

“Does it?” you counter, crossing your arms over your chest.

There’s another thunderous pounding on a nearby door followed by shouting.

“It does if we’re going to make it out of here alive.” Price shrugs, and then smirks. “Could help you.”

Sighing heavily and you reach behind your back, unclasping the bra. You hurl it at him and Price catches it out of the air. Crossing your arms over your chest, you hurry toward the bed. But you don’t make it beneath the sheets.

“Everything,” repeats Price.

Reaching out, Price snags the thin cotton fabric and pulls down, revealing you to him and the room. Instinct as you grasping for control, hands splayed over his large forearms as he gives the fabric another yank.

You cannot form a response. Words leave you as Price drags you into the bed with him.

“Sorry about this,” he grumbles, that color returning to his cheeks in full force. It’s cute actually—how sheepish he looks.

You swallow, and lick your lips. “It’s fine.”

Price leans back against the pillows, guiding you with him. “Get on top.”

Straddling his hips, you settle yourself over him. You try—and fail—to not notice the way the hard length of him nestles against your pussy. You keep one arm crossed over your breasts but all it does is hides your nipples from him. Your other hand is splayed wide and pressed against his chest.

“We’re married,” he says, staring into your eyes. “That’s the story. I’ll do the talking. You act like the scared wife when they come barging in.”

You nod, and Price releases a deep exhalation. His hands rest on your thighs. They’re a brand. Warm. All you can think about. They move upward to settle on your hips.

“Pretend you’re riding me,” he murmurs.

With a gentle hand, Price grasps your wrist, drawing your arm away from your breasts. You don’t resist, and he brings your other palm to rest against his chest.

“Pretend,” he reiterates, hands returning to your hips. Price creates the motion by dragging you back and forth, imitating a rocking motion. Though you’re stationary, your pussy still drags against the length of his cock.

You notice the tremor in his jaw as your bodies rub against each other. This is affecting him as much as it is you.

“Pretend,” you say back to him.

Price nods and then grabs for the television remote from the bedside table. He turns it on and then ups the volume. You imitate the motion he created, rocking back and forth, sliding yourself along his cock, pretending you don’t notice how wet you’ve become over the course of the last few minutes.

His hands return to your hips, and then Price sinks back completely into the pillows, his eyelids softening as he gazes up at you. It’s far too intimate of a stare, and it’s only compounded when one of his hands meander upward to slide over your stomach and then between your breasts. You gasp as his thumb traces the underside of your breast.

Head tilting back, you grind downward, finding yourself diving into the warmth that’s starting to pool low in your belly.

A sharp pounding at the door has you snapping to attention. Every muscle tenses. Seizes.

“You’re fine,” coos Price. “We’ll be fine.”

The pounding comes again and then a yell from behind it. The voice is muffled. Not only by the door but from the television.

Swallowing, you try to connect into it again, rolling your hips, imagining that Price is your husband—that you love him—and this is simply an exploration of that love.

When you roll your hips again, Price sits up slightly, his warm breath brushing against your breast. A tingle shudders through you, and Price groans before his tongue grazes over your nipple, bringing it to a point.

“Knew you’d taste sweet,” he says softly at the same moment the hotel door bursts open.

One second, you’re atop Price, and the next his arms are around you, turning you away from the door to hide you from sight. You’re not on your back but Price has shoved you toward the bed as he sits up, creating a barrier between you and the intruders.

The tactical-clad trio entering the room—with a hotel worker nervously trailing behind—

don’t even get a word in before Price starts going off on them.

“Get out! Get the fuck out!”

His accent is gone, replaced by an American one. It’s incredibly good, and his feigned anger even more so. The men entering faulter under Price’s tirade. They likely weren’t expecting this, and Price uses this opportunity to push the advance.

“We’re fucking busy in here. Fuck off!”

The man at the head of the trio clears his throat and holds up a hand, but Price chucks one of the water glasses at the man. The guy ducks and it shatters against the wall. The hotel worker at their back squeaks and pushes forward.

“We’re so sorry. Just a search for some prison escapees. We’re clearly in the wrong room.”

Prison escapees? You want to laugh but think better of it. Instead, you press your face against Price’s arm, feigning sheepishness.

Price’s lips turn into a snarl, and the hotel worker blanches.

“We’ll give you a complimentary stay for the inconvenience,” the man babbles before waving his arms to usher the other men out.

For a moment, you don’t think it’ll work, but they go.

You and Price don’t sigh with relief until the door shuts. His forehead presses against yours, chest heaving.

“Nice accent,” you whisper and this draws a smile from his lips.

“Like it more than this one?” he asks, his regular accent returning.

“Nope,” you say. “This one suits you fine.”

Price’s gaze draws over your exposed body and then lands on your face. It’s soft. Sensual. You’re frozen beneath it, breath catching as his fingers brush along the line of your jaw.

You’re not sure who moves first but his lips are on yours and then you’re moaning. Price rolls you onto your back, each kiss more demanding and fiercer than the last. He tastes of the mint toothpaste he used earlier and smells of soap.

Reaching between your bodies, you find him hard, and there is no other need within you but the one that craves for him to be inside. To fuck you ceaselessly.

You stroke him and Price groans into your mouth, his hand wrapping around your throat. Hooking your legs behind him, you guide him to your entrance. With a light press of your heels, Price takes your meaning.

There is no gentle pretense. No soft kisses or playful coaxing. Price goes all in, and you break the kiss to gasp aloud, nails digging into his back. Price is thick and having him inside you is a deliciously painful stretch.

It is all desperate the way he moves. Price isn’t gentle. It’s skin slapping against skin. It is sweat and groans. A savage hardness that borders on hysteria.

Your hand reaches behind you to press against the headboard as Price fucks you into the bed, but even that is shaking, banging loudly against the wall. It’s clear even over the drone from the television. The people next door will know exactly what the two of you are up to.

Price is relentless. A man starved. He nips at your bottom lip. Sucks it into his mouth. And when that isn’t enough, he goes for your neck and then your breasts, making your nipples smart and throb under his teeth and tongue.

The orgasm comes sharp and hot, bursting forth like a wave. And when you squeeze around him, Price is right there with you, his cum coating your insides as he too finds his end.

The two of you are all heavy breath. Sweaty limbs.

Price nuzzles the side of your neck, placing soft kisses there until he travels up to find your lips again. These are gentle. Not desperate like before.

When there’s a moment to speak, it is you that breaks the silence.

“So much for pretending.”

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick

It’s the middle of the day but you wouldn’t be able to tell.

A storm is raging—the rain thick and heavy. It falls from the sky in large drops that soak clothes and slick the skin. It’s a bit cold, too. A little chilly. The kind of wet chill that hardens the nipples and brings a shiver to your bones.

“Here. You’re soaked.”

Kyle presents a towel. It’s off-white and a bit frayed. But what can you expect from a motel in the middle of nowhere? Having a towel at all is nice. At least it isn’t threadbare.

“Thanks,” you reply softly, gently dapping the rough-textured material against your face.

Kyle strides over to the heating unit. It’s dirty and barely anchored to the wall. He hits a few buttons and then the thing turns on. It’s loud. Clunky. But heat starts to seep from the slats, warming the room.

After drying your face, you begin to remove outer pieces of clothing. Kyle might be your teammate, but there isn’t really anywhere to hide but the bathroom. Knowing the state of most motels, you don’t really want to find out either.

Kyle has the same idea. He dries off with his own towel, removing soaked articles of clothing as he goes. You try not to look—to be discreet—but it’s hard not to steal a peek. Kyle is all toned muscle and firmness. There’s a light dusting of hair on his chest. It’s a bit thicker around his navel. It trails downwards, and your mind wanders to a place it shouldn’t.

You glance away but not fast enough. His gaze roams upward, finding you, and there he pauses, observing you as you did him.

Pretending is best.

You attempt to act like you don’t notice him at all, turning your back like you’re incredibly interested with the wallpaper that likely hasn’t been replaced in years.

It’s his heat that draws your attention—that steals your breath, and makes every muscle in your body tense with anticipation.

“You’re shivering,” he murmurs.

Kyle is so close. Close enough that his breath brushes against your bare shoulder. You’re just in your bra and underwear, the only items that aren’t completely soaked from the rain.

He inhales, and that exhalation teases your flesh again. Giving in, you close your eyes, sinking into Kyle’s presence.

When you open them again, you notice a mirror hanging on the wall. It’s great if you were trying to plan an outfit, but that isn’t what you notice.

Instead, you see yourself. And Kyle.

The backs of his knuckles lightly caress the side of your arm. His head is tipped forward and turned inward like you’ll turn around any moment to kiss him.

The urge is there. Tugging. Wanting you to do just that.

The two of you are always walking around the other, seeking comfort and closeness but never seizing it. Maybe you should. Maybe—turning around is the best thing you can do for yourself.

“Kyle,” you breathe, and his little hum in answer tightens that string.

Without hesitation, you do turn.

Kyle’s lips are right there. They’re parted slightly. Inviting.

His arm drapes across your waist, hand splaying wide against your stomach, pressing until the two of you are sandwiched together.

It’s not like you don’t want this. You do. You want Kyle. Have since the moment he introduced himself to you. But the two of you have always remained professional in every space you occupy.

And now there is no one around.

No one to see.

No one to know.

Your head tips back in answer, and Kyle leans into it, pressing his lips to yours. It is sweet. Gentle. More of an ask than anything else.

And you reply, meeting him in equal measure. The pressure on your stomach increases just as Kyle’s other hand wraps around the front of your throat, holding you still. Each kiss is a claiming, one you freely submit to.

Kyle is all sugared-warmth, and you want to rot your teeth.

Draping your arm around the back of his neck, you pull him closer. Kyle nips. Bites. Sucks your bottom lip into his mouth before soothing the burn with a few tender kisses. Heat blossoms in your core before morphing into an aching slickness.

You’ve been putting him off—brushing him aside.

Why wait any longer when Kyle is all you crave?

“Fucking hell, love,” he groans against your mouth.

Your lips part, and Kyle slides his tongue inside. His taste is everything, but you want to know him everywhere.

Your hand seeks, brushing against his hardness through his boxer briefs. When you slip your hand beneath the elastic band, Kyle’s only response to kiss you harder.

Wrapping your fingers around him, you start to stroke what you can with the little room you have. Your thumb brushes over the head of his cock and Kyle draws back.

“I’ve wanted this since I met you,” he says, voice a bit rough.

Twisting in his grip, you turn to face him. “Can I show you how much I’ve wanted you, too?” you ask, pressing your breasts against his chest.

Kyle loosens his hold and you drop to your knees, taking his boxer briefs with you. His cock is gorgeous. It curves upward slightly, and a pearly bead of precum blooms in the slit.

He whispers your name, and then you have him in hand. Stroking once. Twice.

You lick off that bead. Savor his taste. Go back for more.

Kyle grabs the back of your head, drawing you to him. You open your mouth. Swallow him down. Throating him until you gag.

“Fuck,” he groans, elongating the vowel.

You work him with hand and mouth, keeping a steady rhythm that has him weak and wanton. You have all the control—until you don’t.

“Let me fuck your mouth, love. Please.”

The please is what does it. You release his cock, placing both hands on his thighs. With a pleased growl, Kyle keeps your head stationary. You anticipate the first thrust, and it is sinful. The movement goes straight to your pussy as you imagining him fucking you there like he fucks your mouth.

Fingers dig into muscled thigh. You want to touch yourself, to tease your clit while he does it. He is a god above you—Adonis.

“Can’t wait to taste your cunt, love,” rasps Kyle. “Can’t wait to make you drip for me.”

His desire fuels your own, and you urge him on, gently cupping him with one hand, thumb lightly rubbing the sensitive strip of flesh there.

Kyle’s hips stutter, and you relax your throat, humming around his cock as your lips meet the base. He holds you there, and you take it all, thighs chaffing from the friction of you rubbing them together in anticipation.

You blink up at him, and Kyle wipes away a tear with his thumb.

“My turn,” he murmurs.

You’re on your feet and then on your back in seconds. All the wind is knocked out of you, and then Kyle’s tongue is there, sliding through your slickness. Parting. Teasing the opening of your vagina before trailing upward to circle around your clit.

Gasping, your hands reach for him. Kyle grabs both wrists, keeps them planting on your stomach as he fucks you with his tongue. His shoulders dig into your thighs, keeping them wide. He’s stronger than you even as your thighs quiver, wanting to close, wanting to shut.

Kyle groans against your pussy, and then he’s on your clit, moving in such an easy, languid way that everything explodes outward. A shudder passes from the tips of your toes to the top of your head. Your pussy clenches. Unclenches. Clenches again.

Kyle doesn’t let up. He doesn’t cease. Every stroke strikes true and then your body betrays itself, overstimulation setting in, and the urge to wiggle away is paramount.

But just as you push at him—just as your body draws back. Kyle is releasing your wrists, pushing himself up and over you, spreading those legs even wider to slide inside.

The bed creaks beneath you, and then he’s thrusting.

Your moans of pleasure become one with the rain.

John "Soap" MacTavish

Single lamp. Lone bed.

Peeling paint. Dusty corners.

“Something’s on your mind.” Your voice is the only sound in the room other than the AC unit.

Soap’s sigh is soft and small as he takes a seat on the edge of the bed.

It’s the last night before the potential end. Before victory or failure. Just the two of you now with the plan to meet up with others later.

He nods, and you take a tentative step forward. “We attended the briefing. You know the details.”

“Aye.”

“Then what has you worried?” you ask, taking another step in Soap’s direction.

A warm, orange glow emits from the singular lamp on the bedside table. It’s not enough light to illuminate the cheap peeling paint or the dirt in the corners of the room. It only gives life to the bed and the side of Soap’s face.

It’s not like you have an unlimited budget. A motel room is the best the two of you could manage for some rest before moving on. The man at the desk didn’t even glance up when he asked if they only wanted a room for an hour.

You had asked for two beds. The man at the desk replied that no one who stops here asks for that.

One bed it is.

One bed.

Somehow, you’ll have to sleep beside Soap while simultaneously shoving down the urge to reach out to him.

Sighing, Soap leans forward, forearms resting on his knees. His gaze drifts slightly as if he’s not focusing on anything in particular. Running his fingers through his short mohawk, he tugs on the ends, mussing the freshly washed strands, creating a wavy mess.

Just that one movement as you leaning forward, nostrils flaring to inhale that clean scent.

“Adaptability,” he answers. Finally.

Instead of sitting on the bed beside him, you sink to your knees, resting your arm on the bed, and your chin on your arm.

The two of you have been on missions before but never together like this.

Never alone.

Keeping your gaze downward, you notice just how close you are to him—and how Soap leans in your direction, the edge of his knee brushing against the side of your hand.

It’s a small contact, but he’s warm, and that warmth is transferring into yourself, unspooling outward. It’s a difficult thing—because all this time you’ve harbored feelings for him, and yet have never acted on them.

“You’re quick on your feet, Soap,” you murmur, one finger absently extended to brush over the curve of his knee.

The corner of his mouth twitches. “You can call me Johnny.”

Johnny. You’ve never called him that. Soap, sure. Sergeant MacTavish? All the time.

“I thought Ghost only had that right.”

Only Ghost calls Soap ‘Johnny.’ That’s understood by everyone.

Soap shrugs. “He did.” He glances at you, his smile widening. “But I’d like to hear you say it.”

Something swirls in your stomach, twisting like a knife.

“How would you like to hear it?” you reply.

Johnny’s smile, which is so wide and teasing, softens into a sultry smirk. “I have options?”

“You do.”

Johnny’s usual playfulness emerges. “Say it like you’re angry with me.”

“Johnny,” you say, deepening your voice to sound like Ghost.

He bursts out laughing, falling back onto the bed, clutching his stomach. “Oh, aye. I’ll give you that.”

“What else?” you tease. “I demand more.”

“Say it like you’re annoyed with me.”

You do just that, and Johnny sits up, turning on his side.

“Again,” you prompt.

The middle of Johnny’s brow creases and then his hand cradles the side of your face. He closes the distance, kissing you deeply—as if you are his lover and not a friend.

But you don’t pull away. You indulge yourself, kissing him back just as sweetly.

You’re not sure how much time passes, just that it does, and his small retreat after it’s done is all you have in acknowledging its passing.

The withdrawal is short. Johnny doesn’t move away. He keeps his hand on your cheek. The tip of his nose nearly brushing yours.

“Say it now,” he breathes, voice raspy.

“Johnny,” but it’s not what you intended to say.

He sighs. “Again.”

“Johnny.”

This time he groans, and then your lips are fusing, becoming one. You’re dragged off the floor and into his arms, tangling in his heat, forgetting yourself completely.

“Johnny,” you repeat, and then your shirt is gone, followed by your bra.

He nips at the curve of your breasts before sucking your nipple into his mouth. His teeth graze flesh and you say his name again until it becomes a strangled moan.

The front of your jeans is open, and his hand is there, cupping your sex, fingers dragging through your wetness.

“Johnny,” but it’s to stop him, to remind him that this cannot go on.

“Fucking hell. Love the way you say my name.”

This melts your resolve. Makes your legs spread wider. Makes you shove at your pants and create plenty of space.

Johnny knows. He understands.

He yanks them down even as he peppers your breasts with little nips and kisses. Your fingers drags through his hair as he sucks the other nipple into his mouth, bringing it to perky attention.

One finger slides inside, and you groan loudly, legs falling wide as Johnny settles himself between.

“Beautiful,” he murmurs, claiming your mouth and pumping his finger. You whimper as he inserts a second. “Wanted you so bad.”

Your pussy flutters, squeezing around him. It is Johnny that groans this time, and it is a primal sound.

“Can I fuck you?” he asks. “Please.”

“Johnny,” you breathe. “Johnny.”

“Need a yes or no. Tell me. Do you want me? I’ve wanted you.”

You answer by finding him—guiding him to the place you need him to.

With a low growl, Johnny pins your arms above your head, slotting his pelvis against yours, the head of his cock sinking in until you’re taking all of him.

“Johnny!”

“That’s what I want to hear,” he croons, starting to thrust.

Simon "Ghost" Riley

“I can’t tell what blood is yours and what isn’t.”

“Can fucking do it myself.”

“Ghost—”

“It’s not a problem.”

“Simon,” you snap, and he stops fidgeting.

Behind the plain balaclava, you see the fire in Lieutenant Riley’s eyes. This man is your superior. At least, right now he is. But the mission is done. It’s over. Yet the two of you are stranded, and making contact with Price is going to take time.

Not to mention that Simon is injured, and you have no fucking idea where at.

“Let me help you,” you say as soothingly as possible.

You don’t want to fight with him. All you want is to help Simon, to clean him up, and get him into bed. Rest and healing are what he needs right now. Contacting Price can wait. Base can stew for a while longer.

The two of you are in a motel room in the middle of fucking nowhere America. It’s shit overall, but it will have to do. There’s no way anyone is searching for the two of you out here. You drove until you nearly ran out of gas, and then you refilled and drove some more. Simon was in the back of the car, covered in blood.

But he was awake. Moving. Not a head injury, and not enough to get him immediate medical treatment. Not like he would have allowed you to take him to a hospital anyway. Lieutenant Riley is fucking stubborn. Sometimes infuriatingly so.

Simon stares, hard, his dark eyes intense behind the balaclava. He blinks, and then pushes up from the chair, keeping his gaze trained on you.

“Lieutenant,” you mutter, annoyed.

As Simon stands and attempts to take a step forward, his left leg wobbles, and he nearly topples forward. Your arms go out to catch him, holding him steady. He’s a big guy, and he seems to know this because he tries to prop himself up using the chair.

“I’m fine.”

“You’re not,” you snap.”

“Listen—”

“I’m not arguing with you Simon Riley.”

Using his full name shuts him up. It’ll likely earn you a reprimand later, but fuck it, you’re over this.

“Stay there.” You shove him back down into the chair and head into the bathroom.

There is a single overhead light. Flipping the switch turns it on and the fan. It’s a tight space, but thankfully the shower isn’t also a tub. That would be a nightmare getting him in. Instead, there is a sink, a toilet, and a dividing wall that cuts the room in half. It’s more like a locker shower but it’ll work.

Reaching in, you turn the handle. You jump back as cold water shoots out of the shower head. After waiting for a few seconds, steam starts to rise.

You take a deep breath, knowing what you have to do. “You got this,” you murmur, heading back into the room.

Simon leans forward in the chair, forearms resting on his knees.

You hold out your hand. “Let’s go.”

Lieutenant Riley’s head swivels in your direction. “Seriously?”

“Yes,” you reply, holding firm. “Come on.”

With a deep sigh, Simon reaches out and slides his hand into yours. It’s warm. Calloused. You squeeze it and step forward, extending your other arm to wrap around his torso. Simon stands. Wobbles. But you snake your arm around him, and then it’s a slow trek into the bathroom.

Simon is limping, but he’s showing no other signs that his injury hurts him. Might be minor, or he’s just good at covering up the pain.

Once the two of you are inside the bathroom, you realize just how small the space is. Maneuvering Simon to the shower is difficult, a weird dance to wiggle around the door and toilet to the opening of the shower.

You retreat slightly, and Simon leans against the wall, his eyelids closing as he takes a deep breath.

“You good?” you ask, concern creasing your brow.

Simon nods. “I’ll manage.” His eyelids open slowly and then he stares into the shower. “You want me in there?”

“You’ll need to remove a few things first,” you reply, gesturing toward his uniform.

Simon snorts. “Trying to get me naked?”

“You wish,” you retort, even as your cheeks heat with embarrassment. “Need help?”

At first, Simon doesn’t say anything. He just reaches for his belt, removing it slowly with one hand.

“I’ll leave you to it,” you mumble, starting to turn away.

“Wait.”

You freeze, and then glance over your shoulder. “What is it?”

Simon shrugs. “What if I slip? Might need you to catch me.”

This bastard.

“Then I’ll stay,” you reply cooly, pretending that this doesn’t affect you.

But it does. It’s reshaping you, and Simon’s slow undressing isn’t helping things. He keeps his gaze on you the entire time, and you purposefully keep your eyes averted, when really you want to look. You want to know what he’s like under all that.

The belt goes. So does his tactical gear and jacket. Next is his shirt followed by his balaclava. You sneak a peek then, and Simon grins at you like he knew you’d look eventually.

“I’ll need some help with these. Getting them down that is.” Simon gestures towards his pants and you feel your face grow so hot you fear it might explode.

“Sure.”

You reach for him, silently chastising your shaking fingers. This is too much, even though you like it, and want more from it. You undo the button and zipper. Sliding your hands beneath the band, you shimmy Simon’s pants to the floor. He kicks them away and all that’s left are his boxer briefs. They’re tight and you notice the massive bulge in front.

Fuck.

“You can do the rest,” you reply, glancing away.

Simon removes them, and then he starts forward, arms outstretched to balance himself as he enters the shower.

“Fucking hell,” moans Simon as the hot water hits his body.

The groan that comes after is deep, and so sultry you feel a bolt of pleasure spike from your pussy.

“Should join me.”

“No thanks,” you say, averting your gaze away from Simon’s muscled backside.

One moment you’re facing the wall, and the next you’re under the spray of water.

“What the fuck,” you shriek, stumbling backward as Simon chuckles. Muttering under your breath, you stare down at your soaked clothing. “Goddamn it.” You start removing articles of clothing, the wet fabric peeling away from your skin.

“Fucking fine, Simon.”

You shed everything and storm under the spray, only for Simon to wrap his arms around your waist and pull you against him. There is no pause between then and the moment his lips find yours. It is sweet, and warm. You instantly melt, enjoying every second.

But it’s fleeting.

You draw back, heart hammering in your chest.

“You’re covered in blood. Remember?”

Simon shrugs and then offers you the soap. “Clean me then.”

You do it, and when you’re done, he does the same for you. It’s far too intimate, and Simon’s gentleness is surprising. Once finished, you dry and bandage the wound on his leg. It’s not terrible—and will likely need stitches—but it’s not bleeding anymore.

The singular bed in the middle of the room is far too small. Not with Simon in at, spread out and naked under the sheets.

You slide in beside him, not knowing where you should settle. Simon is large, taking up most of the best. The only place is curled up next to his side.

Turning your resolve to steal, you settle in. You begin to turn away from Simon, but his arm shoots out, grasping your waist. You’re yanked across the bed, only to find yourself in Simon’s arms.

“What are you doing?” you ask.

“Stop pretending, love. We both know what’s going on. Don’t deny it.”

Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck.

“Simon—”

“We’ve been making eyes at each other for fucking months. And now we’re alone. You think I don’t see the opportunity?”

Simon’s hand slides over the curve of your ass, and then dips beneath your shirt. You’re not wearing underwear, and when his fingers brush over your pussy, you gasp, pressing into him.

“You’re already wet for me,” growls Simon as he drags a finger through your folds. “So fucking wet.” He presses in, and your pussy parts for him.

“We can’t, Simon. You’re injured.”

“Not so much,” he coos. “Especially since I can do this.” On this, Simon drags the tips of his finger along the inside your pussy, hitting that sweet spot.

You moan, fingers digging into his chest as your back arches to press you further down on him.

“It’s just my leg that’s injured.” Simon’s lips brush against your cheek and then the edge of your ear. His breath is warm against your skin. “I can still fuck you. Have you on top. Bounce you on my cock.” Simon gives the curve of your ear the faintest kiss. “Would you like that, love? Do you want me to fuck you?”

“We—we—”

With his other hand, Simon grasps the back of your neck, drawing you against him, silencing whatever it is you’re trying to say. He seizes your mouth in a fierce kiss. You open for him, and his tongue slides inside. He tastes nice, and you want to sink into the feeling. Have him devour you completely.

“Let me in,” he murmurs against your lips.

You push up, doing exactly as he wants you to do. You settle on his lap, his hard cock pressed up against your thigh.

With a low growl, Simon removes your shirt, leaving you completely bare to his gaze.

“Much better,” he says, cupping your breasts as you lean on his chest, lifting your hips.

His cock slides through your folds, and then you start the descent, moaning as he splits you in two. The stretch is intense—nearly sharp with pain, but laced with pleasure. Simon’s eyelids flutter slightly, and his groan is pure sin.

Simon lightly squeezes your breasts one more time before his hands find your hips. He lifts you up, and then back down, bouncing you on his cock. You cling to him, allowing him to use you, to fuck you in whatever way he wants.

Each grunt and growl from him only makes you wetter. Hungrier.

“I’m gonna come inside you.”

It’s not a question. There is no other option, and you wouldn’t take anything else even if there was.

“Please,” you whimper.

Simon’s hands tighten, his hips thrusting upward to meet every downward movement. He sits up, his mouth clamping around a nipple to nip and suck. Your orgasm roars up from nowhere, and then you’re clenching around him, milking Simon’s cock as his own end greets him.

[angelinthefire]

I think the way the camera treats Caitlyn in the first act of season 2 is really interesting. It cuts off her eyes at some very key moments.

The eyes are how we connect with someone. Cutting them off cuts off the ability to sympathize with them. And depending on how the mouth is shot it can make the character seem more base or animalistic in a given moment. I think the show did this quite a bit with Silco in season 1, and they do it with Caitlyn in season 2.

The first one is from s2e1 when Caitlyn says about Jinx, "I want to rip that laugh from her throat forever.

Up until this point the viewer has been quite embedded in Caitlyn's POV when she's on-screen. The musical segment was showing her perspective. We witness her fantasy of being able to take down Jinx. The show is making sure that we understand where she's at mentally.

But here, the first time she's expressing violent thoughts, we're decidedly not in her POV. Her eyes are cut off, we don't get that connection with her. But what we do get is Jayce's reaction. And he's concerned. It's the first kind of "uh oh" moment, where you get a sinking feeling about where Caitlyn's headed.

2. After the memorial attack, she calls the attackers "animals" and we get this uncomfortably close shot of her teeth.

She's calling others animals, but she's the one who's shown snarling in this animalistic way. Again, her eyes are cut off, cutting off that avenue for sympathy when she says this, cutting the viewer off from her perspective, distancing her. Instead our attention is directed at this ugly, unsettling expression of hers. The camera is presenting her as something to be worried about rather than someone to feel sympathy for.

3. After interrogating Heenot, when she's gearing up to go after Jinx, and Vi is about to ask to talk to her.

Throughout the preceding scene, we were getting a lot of shots of Vi reacting to Caitlyn's behaviour, with a quite open expression, and a lot of shots of Caitlyn looking hardened and aloof. And then we come to this shot, and though Caitlyn is centre-frame, it's still Vi's POV. We see how Vi is feeling and reacting to things, but Caitlyn's eyes are again cut out of frame. She's distanced from the viewer, just like Vi is feeling distanced from her. Vi's position in the frame communicates how she's feeling, like she's being edged out of Caitlyn's life by Cait's singular focus on revenge.

And just like with that first shot with Jayce, by focusing on the reacting character, the camera is showing the viewer how they should be reacting to Caitlyn too: unsettled, disturbed, alienated.

4. When Cait and Vi are fighting, and Vi grabs Cait's arm, before she jabs Vi with the butt of her gun.

It's a reaction shot, Vi just grabbed her arm and told her she's acting like Jinx, this cut should be showing us how Caitlyn feels about that. But we don't see the reaction in her eyes, we just see her mouth.

In this case, I think it's not just about presenting Caitlyn in a way where she's cut off from the viewer. Because it is a reaction shot, I think this communicates that Caitlyn also feels cut off from herself in a way, cut off from the sympathy she had for others that was such a part of her character in season 1.

And then it's interesting to compare all this to when Vi and Caitlyn cross paths again, and Vi calls Caitlyn "cupcake." And we get this shot:

We get the closeup on her eyes. Whereas before, the audience was repeatedly cut off from having that connection with her, now it's like, boom, big connection. And just as before, I think the shot is not just about the audience being able to connect with her, but Caitlyn being able to connect with herself. That despite everything, she's still the same woman who fell in love with Vi, that part of her is still there. She's been on this whole awful journey, and she's done awful things, and allowed awful things to be done in her name, but she's still the same person, and she can't pretend anymore that it's all fine. She sees clearly again.

[milkoomi]

curating your signature scent. ᥫ᭡

one of my favorite compliments that i receive is, “you smell so good!” i strive to be that person who walks into a room and have people think, “oh my god, what are you wearing?” or “wow, you smell amazing!” and i’m sure a lot of you do too! smelling good is a big chunk of what makes me feel beautiful. having my signature scent just gives me that personal, little touch about myself that makes me feel so gorgeous, stunning, and ethereal. it’s taken me some time to perfect my signature scent, so i want to share some quick tips on how you can achieve that for yourself too!

let’s begin …

୨ৎ — what’s your favorite scent(s)?

there’s so many scents out there, but ask yourself this: what scent, or combination of scents do you lean towards?

let’s talk a little about a few different scent categories!

florals ; jasmine, rose, lily / soft & powdery

— floral scents give, in my opinion, very feminine but sophisticated vibes. it’s a wonderful fragrance that can make you feel fresh and give that romantic spring aura around yourself.

fruity ; strawberry, citrus, tropical / fresh & juicy / playful & sweet

— fruitier scents have this summer freshness to them! they’re also perfect for layering with other scents, which makes this specific scent category very versatile!

gourmand ; vanilla, caramel, chocolate / sweet, decadent & delicious

— gourmand scents are perfect for anyone who wants to smell delectable and rich! this is another one of those scents that can layer nicely with other scents. it’s perfect as a stand-alone thanks to those richer and more decadent smells, but it could also be great as an underlying scent amongst another main fragrance!

amber ; warm, rich, exotic, vanilla / hints of wood, musk, & spice

— amber scents can provide comforting fragrances along with a feeling of luxury laced within it. this scent offers a more mature vibe to whoever wears! i think it’s that perfect gender-neutral scent while still offering more feminine or masculine-leaning options!

there are a plethora of different scents out there including clean and fresh scents, more woodsy scents, and even scents that remind you of the ocean!

the key takeaway in this section is just to figure out which scents you feel more drawn to, which scents make you feel beautiful, which scents make you feel like that girl; what scents do you love?

୨�� — experimenting

when i’m curating my signature scent, i always ask myself these two questions: 1) how does this scent make me feel? and 2) how are others reacting to this scent?

i always strive to boost my own confidence, and having a scent that makes me feel like an absolute angel helps! also, taking into consideration how the scent(s) i’m wearing gets other people around me reacting also gives me an extra confidence boost. and who doesn’t love being told they smell good?

the experimental stage is my favorite part! it’s just all about playing around with different fragrance combinations and seeing which ones just make you think “oh my god, this is everything!”

fragrance layering — essential to your signature scent

having one cohesive scent is amazing, and maybe that’s what some people want! but think about it: wouldn’t it be more likely for other people to have that same singular scent as you if you stick to one type of fragrance? this is exactly why i believe layering different scents is absolutely essential in creating your signature scent!

when you layer scents, you’re actively creating a scent combination of your very own! chances are, when you layer scents, no one else is going to smell like you. other people may have similar fragrance notes, but they aren’t going to have the exact combination that you have!

some good scents to layer…

gourmand + fruity scents

floral + fruity scents

amber + gourmand scents

fresh & clean + fruity scents

citrus + florals

my current scent layers…

Burberry Goddess — scent type: gourmand + amber

Orabella Blooming Fire — scent type: warm floral

EOS Body Lotion Strawberry Dream — scent type: fruity + soft gourmand

you want to make sure that the scents you’re layering combine well together. you can see that the scents i’m layering have similar scent types, but there’s still a nice difference between all of them to still provide that “signature scent” feeling!

**tina’s tip: if you’re at the store and trying out different scents, use the little tester strips and hold them together and take a whiff! it’s a real easy way to see what scents you like together and what scents should probably keep a distance from each other!

consider your body chemistry

keep in mind, how the fragrance smells from the bottle can change when it’s applied onto your body! all of us are different, so some scents are going to smell differently on our person. i wore billie eilish’s perfume (the gold bottle) a lot in the winter, and my coworker loved how it smelled on me and i convinced her to get it for herself, but she ended up hating how it smelled on her and she even told me she had to return it because it didn’t smell like how it did on me.

if you’re really leaning towards a couple scents at the store, don’t be afraid to try it on yourself! spray a little on your wrist, let it dry down, and then give your wrist a sniff. see how you like it! see if there’s any differences you notice! you might be obsessed with how something smells in the bottle, but there might be a chance you might hate how it smells on you.

keep tabs — which scent is getting the most attention?

i’m not saying you have a keep a journal and make tally marks on which scents are getting the most compliments, but i just mean make mental notes for yourself!

like i said earlier, who doesn’t love being told they smell good? so when i’m finding my signature scent i like to make mental notes to myself of which perfume(s) are getting the most compliments!

as a little disclaimer: i know i’ve talked a lot about not caring about what other people think, and i will always stand by those statements i’ve made about that, but when i talk about not valuing other people’s opinions i mean that i don’t want to give any value to other people’s opinions of myself; of me as a person, how i live my life, and how i view myself. and that same thought process goes out to you lovely angels! i wouldn’t want you guys to put any value into what anyone has to say about you and your life, but when it comes to something as small as how i smell, well, it doesn’t hold as much importance to me versus how someone thinks about me as an individual, you know what i mean? now, back to the blog post!

see which scents are making people go “you smell so good!” or “what are you wearing? it smells amazing!” but keep in mind of how that scent makes you feel. maybe other people absolutely love the perfumes you wear, but maybe you’re not the biggest fan of the scents, so maybe you want to find different fragrances of the same or similar scent types of the ones that other people are complimenting and find ones that you really love!

having a non-official “vote” of which scents get you the most compliments can actually help you find scents that give you your own personal confidence boost while still getting to hear that beloved “you smell so good!” comment!

୨ৎ — seasonal scents

another fun way of finding your signature scent is by also having a designated scent for each season! i personally have a spring/summer scent and a fall/winter scent!

you can associate florals & fruit with spring/summer and warm vanilla & amber/gourmand with fall/winter, but it’s all up to you! think of the vibe you want to give off during the different seasons. maybe in the spring & summer you want something more fresh, playful, and juicy and maybe in the fall & winter you want something warm, cozy, and sweet!

i’m all about associating smells with memories and vibes, so my biggest piece of advice for seasonal signature scents is to pick fragrances that go along with the energy you want to give!

final notes —

curating your signature scent doesn’t have to be a stress-inducing endeavor! make it fun for yourself and take time to experiment with different smells! when you find that scent or combination of scents that you feel like really embodies you and your energy, really own it. it’s your signature scent, it’s the scent that’s going to make people remember you by, it’s the scent that makes you feel like that girl!

with lots of love, faustina 🌷

[sstrwbrryccke]

— bullying him pt.4 | sub soobin

part 1 | part 2 | part 3

tags: loser!nerd!soobin x bully!mean!reader, gn reader, sadistic reader, masochistic soobin, dubcon, hate fingering, sadist x masochistic relationship, mutual pining, mild violence, hurt w comfort, mean dirty talk, reader's genitals are unclear and can be interpreted as either a cock or a strap, misunderstandings, public bathroom indecency, bdsm, happy ending!!!

the long await part 4 is here!! i tagged everyone who wanted a part 4 i hope you aren't too irritated by the tag >.< i did this very tired and sleep deprived so i hope it makes sense HAHAHA

tags: @yaegerphobic @strwbrryjaem @ke4s @sk104kx @bennybenten @queer-n-here @sleeping143 @browni-bin @skinnyzlegendz @roturo @zuzuhasablog

something changed after that date, you could feel it, soobin could feel it and the other classmates felt it too. it was the lingering touches, the maintained gazes during class. the way he dared to stare for just a second longer. you didn't want to admit it, and it was initially easy to ignore the problem. it's not like you weren't used to overlooking soobin. he was simply an accessory in your eyes, what's the use in admiring the shine of a singular gem on a sapphire bracelet?

though, perhaps your dismissiveness was your greatest achilles heel after all. in the end, an undeniable itch would creep up on the back of your neck. like a minuscule mosquito sting that would bloom into large red welts. it started irritating you to a degree. sure you were blatantly ignoring the man, but can a contradiction not be such opposing parallels?

because how dare he, even for a second, ignore you back?

maybe it was the small sigh of relief he let out when you passed by, or the way he kept his head down low when he exited the class. when did it start to bother you so much?

no way. he would come running back. he always did and he always will, you know it in your bones, he will come back he will. what's a victim without a bully? a nerd without a jock??? a locker without a dim-witted loser to push into????????

you will wait it out, wait for him to come out crawling and kneeling, grasping at your leg like a devout to their divine deity— prayers forcing their way frantically out of his mouth.

but seconds tick by, days even, and suddenly it's been two weeks already with no movement. all silent on the battlefront. is this what it's like for drinks to fizzle out at the bottle of a can? when a songbird no longer sings for the morning sun? and the stars no longer shine for the moon? and whatever next poetic quote that rhymes with moon?

damn, what a sad and pathetic way to conclude it. so this is the ending chapter of the depressing story of a mega fluke and his cool fling.

is what you would say if you were the cowardly choi soobin!!!

because you weren't a pussy, and you certainly weren't one to give up on your pride. so be it, if he wants you to come to him, you'll give it to him.

☆★☆

your glare bore holes into the hunched back of choi soobin. now see, normally you wouldn't even gift that loser a glance in his direction, too risky to pay him attention and blow the cover of your unconventional connection after all. but this was a special occasion, and you felt like your nerves were lit on fire, like a hormonal teenager going through puberty again. it was abnormal for everyone else too, many did not even know the unimportant side character soobin was even associated with you, arguably the most interesting (or maybe the right word is known) person in the classroom.

the metal keys weigh heavy in your uniform pants (retrieved from the staffroom after many great excuses to convince your teacher), waiting for the right moment to pounce. come on soobin, you dare him to move. fall right into the metal prongs.

"—dude, hey— HEY!" one of your friends, kiwoo, shook your shoulder, hard enough that you broke your gaze just for a second. you snap your head at him, giving him an irritated look that makes him retreat his hand.

"what's with you?" he says, suspicious, "you've been glaring at soobin ever since he entered the classroom. what? he gave you bad head or something?"

"not funny." you roll your eyes.

"is there something happening between the two of you? it doesn't feel like a simple errand boy situation anymore. you're not nonchalant and mysterious for ignoring the question by the way."

you groan, this really wasn't the time for it. what kind of excuse can you even give him? that the weird situationship you had with soobin backfired and now you're acting like an angsty possessive insecure spouse trying to get him back? tough shit.

"it's not even that deep, kiwoo. he just pissed me off this morning, that's all." you scoff out an excuse, hoping that's enough to deter your nosy friend. you look back at where soobin was seated— shit where did he go?!

"what did he do now?—" "not the time, he's gone, where did he go?" you look around, irritation seeping into your voice.

"chill, he probably just went to the b—"

you stand up, muttering another alibi before dashing out of the classroom. you catch a glimpse of his white shirt turning the corner, bingo, he's headed to the restroom! your heart thumps in your throat as you approach the bathroom, was the dominos actually falling into place? you can't believe your stupid plan was working.

once you reach the entrance, you silently take a breath, getting ready for the confrontation. you step in, closing the restroom door behind you with the keys, and you hear an all too familiar gasp as the lock sets into place.

"oh, you, the door,"

his stupid voice stutters out (you missed hearing it), shaky eyes meeting yours. he was sweating visibly, like this was a horror game and he just came face to face with the final boss.

"so—sorry wrong room!" he turns around like an npc reciting a practised line, only to be met with the tile wall, what a dumb bunny. when he pivots back around, you are already eye-to-eye with him. his voice hitches, a pathetic excuse for a squeal, and the world spins— you pin him into the wall right behind him. he would crumble onto the floor right there if it weren't for your hands holding his wrists up.

there was a moment of silence between you two, his eyes scattering around as if the gum on the floor was suddenly so much more interesting than the person in front. he bites his bottom lip in fear.

"oh stop it i told you before to not bite your chapped lips." the first words exchanged, a command that he obeys immediately like following your words was as natural as breathing. you forgot how satisfying it was to order him around.

"care to explain why you're avoiding me?" your tone sharp and cutting; as if you were physically pressing a knife up against his chest. he tries to talk. lip trembling, eyes closing, but all that comes out is a fearful whimper. you click your tongue in irritation, releasing one of his wrists— which limply drops to his side like a ragdoll. using your free hand you grab his face, forcing him to look at you.

"answer."

he tears up, sniffling as he tries not to sob. "m' sorry... i—i'm sorry for ignoring you."

you felt a pang in your heart, you can't tell if it was guilt or anger. "shit quit apologising and just answer my question. why were you avoiding me."

his shoulders were raised all the way up as if he was expecting you to smack him across the cheek, his whole body was wrecked with trembles and you're impressed he wasn't full-on sobbing yet. his face was red and holy shit no fucking way he was hard. what a strong sense of deja vu, wasn't this exactly how this whole mess started in the first place? you just stare at him for a minute, shaking and quivering with a bulge, no answer on his tongue.

"are you fucking for real? what'd i expect from a masochistic dog. of course, you're getting off from this." you grit your teeth, was he just using you for a quick jerk? that this was his kink this whole time and he only ever saw you as a fuck partner? did he ignore you simply so you would snap and give him exactly what he wants???

and for some reason, you felt betrayed, as if there was actually some relationship between you two. how hypocritical too, did you not also see soobin as sexual relief? wasn't he supposed to be an obedient mouth that opened for your dick? why was your fist clenching and veins pumping as if you caught your long-term partner cheating???

"maybe the only way to get shit through your thick skull is to fuck it out of you huh? bend you over in front of everyone with your ass out as you get fucking drilled by a big fat cock? is that what you want?" your words come out forced and throbbing red with anger.

"i—"

you clasp a rough hand over his throat, though you didn't actually squeeze, he shuts up immediately, eyes wide and fingers quivering. you almost rip his pants down, taking his underwear as well in one swift motion. he snivels pathetically, helplessly being led around as you savagely grasp his hair. you pull him to the sink, forcing him to bend over in front of the mirror. he desperately clutches the edges of the sink with a grunt, otherwise he might be toppled over by your rough handling. his body leaning down with his elbows bent onto the sink edge.

you grip his hair, painfully hard, his scalp must be killing him. you lift his head up until he's staring at his face in the reflection. it was like a brush with scarlet paint used his face as a canvas. his cheeks red and trembling. tears bulge on the edge of his eyes, threatening to slip out any second. his lips long-bitten and bleeding.

"keep staring at your slutty self. watch how pathetic and ugly you're gonna look when you get your organs fucked out. if you break your gaze even for a second i'll fucking kill you."

you cuss with every malevolence in your soul, for a second soobin thinks you might actually kill him. he holds in his breath as if one more sound from him will settle the hatred in your heart and murder him. you spit down onto his ass, watching as it dribbles down, you abruptly prod at his hole. not waiting like you would before. breaking through the rim and forcing your finger in like an intruder.

he loudly groans out in agony, body shuddering and wavering. you smack him over the head. "quit moving so much. shit, i wasted so many stupid gifts on you. and to think i was saving up the actual fucking for something more special. like we were actually a couple or something. but now you're gonna get your organs reorganised in a public bathroom. i guess that's suiting for a whore like you."

he grits his teeth in pain, trying to endure the pain and the humiliation for you. he stares at himself in the mirror in despair, brows furrowed and his vision blurry, his glasses were knocked off his nose from all the movement, but he keeps looking at himself just like you commanded. not trying to disobey you. why did he do that for you? it pissed you to new heights. why was he still acting like he was a goodie two shoes who didn't want to displease you?

you thrust the finger in and out with no care, barely being assisted by your makeshift lube to slide against his walls. his soft whimpers barely slipping out. you press another finger against his hole and this time he does stir, he jerks away. incoherent protests come out when he feels the second finger try to enter.

"break! a break! please give me uh a break b—before the second!" he begs, on the verge of breaking into full sobs.

"what makes you think you can bargain?"

he shivers at your harsh words, head hanging in shame. it was so pathetic, you feel a small semblance of pity, spitting more on his ass to assist the second. but you weren't merciful by any standard and promptly slid the two fingers in.

his shoulders shake, feeling full already with the two fingers. tears finally slip out in both overwhelming pain and pleasure. he hadn't touched himself ever since the last time you two met.

your ruthless fingers pump in and out of his ass like you were digging for his stomach, violently pressing against his prostate. it hurts like crazy. a primal and animalistic type of pain. but oh man, the electricity zipping through his body was hitting all the right places. it felt so wrong yet so right. like he belonged here pressed underneath your feet and hands. this felt like pleasure. his dick was tall and alert, pent up and ready to burst. his body begged for more while his mind was praying for mercy.

he thrashes around with each new thrust, being unable to control his body as a guttural wail forces its way out of his mouth. the slopping of skin slapping skin fills your ears. you grunt as you tighten your hold on his hair, trying to get him to stop moving. the more you ram your fingers into his prostate, the more frantic he becomes, one of his hands coming up to weakly pry at your hand holding his hair. you let go of your grip on his scalp to instead pull his body flush against your chest, hand snaking to the front and onto his throat. your fingers ceasing to stop with its insane momentum.

"please— no more— have me—mercy! i'm so sorry i'm so sorry i'm sorry—" he begs endlessly, sobbing and shaking his head, struggling against your hold.

you ignore his pleas, hand trailing down from his throat to his lower stomach, you can feel the movement of your fingers. suddenly, you push your palm down on his lower abdomen, right above his prostate. just as your two fingers press into the glands. he cries out, head blanking into sparks of light and stars. his cock spasming as he spurts out white stripes, shooting onto the mirror. his hands that were frantically prying at your wrists limps down.

your lips curl into a cruel smile, a sense of satisfaction raking over your body. you slid your two fingers out of his hole. a scoff comes out, naturally.

"hah. you came? i wasn't even trying to pleasure you, and you came like a little..."

your nasty words drift off as you look at him in the mirror. the room is now uncomfortably quiet, only the weeping and sobbing of soobin echoing in the restroom. he looks like a wreck, not in a sexy, sweaty way. but in a heart-hanging, guilt-tripping way. his face was painted with tears, snot and substance. eyes closed and afraid to look up at you. his body exhausted and leaning against you, he didn't even have the energy to quiver.

you did this to him, you absolutely ruined his pretty face and his sweet eyes. you actually deserve hell. what was wrong with you? how could you do this to someone so cute and precious? soobin deserved the world and so much more, he deserved everything good and nice and sweet and right on this earth. but what happened at that moment, how did you get here?

suddenly it was like your throat was constricted and swollen, lips dry with unsaid words. what do you say? apologise? promise to leave him alone forever?

"i..."

"i'm sorry..." he beats you to it with shaky words.

"holy shit no— no no, don't apologise." you quickly mumble, holding him up.

"i— i was scared, i didn't know how you would react. because i think, i think i'm insane, i don't know what's wrong with me. i'm scared you would be disgusted" his words tumble out breathlessly, you just stare silently in shock.

"i'm sorry— i don't get myself either, because everything about you drives me crazy and i can't be around you— i know i'm a masochistic dog but i just can't help it— no matter what you do to me makes me like you more, d—don't hate me please. i'm such a freak—" his words are barely coherent as he sobs.

"shh shhh shh it's okay, calm down soobin, calm down." you try to comfort him, beyond confused and shocked. he's crying so hard he's hiccuping and stammering. you help him lean on a wall and he slides down, you frantically kneel down to try and ground him.

"i— i don't want you to hate me— but your attention just feels so good to me— anything— any attention you give me it just shakes me to my core... i couldn't do it anymore—hic— i had to avoid you hick—" he hides his face in his hands. you try to understand his words, your head spiralling in turmoil. he what? he avoided you because you gave him too much attention? what kind of fucked up logic was that? this was starting to sound like those cliche misunderstanding tropes in romcoms. nevermind that, you had a sexually confused pile of fluff to comfort.

"soobin breathe, hey, come on." you say as softly as you can, like you were trying to approach an injured bunny in the wild. no matter, your heart pangs with guilt as he keeps crying. you pull him into a hug on your lap, wrapping your arms tight around his frame. this seems to make him cry more, but he leans into you, knees bundled tight against his chest as he savours the warmth. you two stay on the floor in this strong embrace. you coo sweet and reassuring words into his ear as you rock him back and forth, doing your best to console him. kissing each tear as it falls.

his sobs quiet down with each passing minute until there was only silence and mute sniffling. it was bizarre to cuddle on the restroom floor, but it was nice, and you have to admit that you do like soobin in your arms. not embracing him in sex, but in comfort and simply to make him feel good. this was crazy hypocritical to say, considering he was partly crying due to your assholery.

after a few more minutes of silence, you glance at soobin, still hidden away by his hands. "soob, come on, look at me." you coo into his ear, and he makes a small noise of acknowledgement. your hands gently pry at his hands and he lets you remove his shield from his face. he looks at you pitifully, eyes red and puffy from the crying, pouting. you kiss his cheek, you don't know why you did it, but it felt right to. "do you want to talk to me now?"

he nods, but hides his face in your shoulder.

"i... i'm crazy and a freak. you hurt me, you humiliate me, you cause me so much pain."

you grimace, stroking his hair. yeah, that sounds about right. if there was one thing consistent about your inconsistent personality, it was how much of an asshole you are. if soobin was your salvation, it was like the angels gave you a second chance at life. but you honestly wouldn't blame them if the ground caved beneath you right now and sent you straight to hell. was it bad to say you enjoyed all the sadistic acts? probably. you can't lie and say you regret being a sadist. but if it makes it better, you do regret the pain soobin is feeling right now.

"but... please don't hate me for this..."

"i won't hate you, soobin." you encourage him to keep talking, shushing his worries away.

"i like all of it, i like it so much it drives me crazy. i'm abnormal, i know. and i get it if you think i'm disgusting. but i'm so obsessed with you. i think about the things you do to me every night, i replay it in my head over and over again until i'm touching myself again. the more you hurt me, the more i like you... but... but you kept avoiding me, and i thought you knew how i felt and you were disgusted... and if that was the case... i didn't want to get hurt anymore..." he confesses fully, face buried deep in your neck and you feel your shirt slowly wet with his tears again.

it was silence, absolute, bewilderment from your side. the quiet seems to gnaw at soobin's heart, because he lifts his head up, gaze lowered as he stutters. "i— i get it if you're disgusted, my feelings are so strang—"

"soobin, you're a proper, proper masochist, wow." you breathe out. lifting his face up gently with two of your hands. wiping away his tears with your sleeve.

"oh..." he just mouths, mind seemingly blank. confused by how mundane your reaction was.

"wait, so how'd you feel about what we did just then? did you like it?"

"i... didn't like you being angry at me..."

"but what about the feeling? the fingering? the rough treatment?"

he blushes. "i liked the rough treatment." he pauses for a moment. "and you paying attention to me again."

the both of you fall quiet and he crumbles at the scrutiny. you knew soobin was masochistic and that he liked you. this was not new information. shit, you knew this from the beginning. so what changed? why did you freak out and go ballistic? why'd you corner him and demand him to tell you why he avoided you? why'd you force him to endure all that pain?

"i... i was so mean to you today... i... because you kept, looking away from me, and, ignoring my gaze and avoiding me. i thought..." the words fall into noiseless void. burning on the tip of your tongue.

"i thought you didn't like me anymore,"

you admit, shame and humiliation weighing down your heart. for a self-proclaimed smartass, you were sure stupid and dense to your own emotions. when did it start? when did you actually start caring about the loser? maybe the answer was simpler than that, you never felt the feelings creeping up to you, because, in truth, you've always been looking at him. maybe that's why you picked on him so easily, always eyeing for his reaction. shit, what a twisted way your heart works. but damn did you have a lifetime of sins to atone for.

soobin was blinking up at you blearily, clearly confused and oblivious to the conclusion in your head. you pick up his cracked glasses from the ground, gently inserting them behind his ears. (you'll buy him another pair later.)

"you don't hate me?" his voice was weak and hopeful. you scoff.

"you're too easy to bully and pick on. it's the complete opposite idiot. i just have a shitty way to show my feelings, and you're unfortunately the victim." it takes a moment for him to process your words, and his face morphs into a cute kind of shock, he is ecstatic, you can tell by the way his dimples deepen. you really didn't deserve this man or any of the feelings he has, for some reason, god was merciful and sent the perfect masochistic man to slot into your sadistic tendencies.

"but... isn't our relationship weird?" he frowns.

"we crossed that line the moment i fingered you dude." he chuckles at this, caught off guard. and you appreciate the clear ringing of his laughter without any more denial.

"honestly, you picked such a shitty person to crush on. i'm the worst, i like being mean to you. i like humiliating you, i like the feeling of having you grovel at my feet."

his face reddens with each word, hiding his face into your shoulder again. you lean into him, appreciating the silky softness of his hair.

"i don't deserve you. i'm an idiot, it took what? months of sexual tension and emotional buildup for me to realise i actually like you instead of hating you?" you ramble, he snorts.

"but i'll make it up to you, i promise." you can tell he was blushing by the heated tips of his ears. this was nice, him in your lap. he's still a loser, but he's your loser. (gross, you reconsider taking everything back with this one thought.)

"let's get out of here first. screw class, we're gonna graduate anyways, what are the teachers gonna do?"

"and i should wear some pants..." he comments.

"that too."

☆★☆

you do a final check over at soobin, ointment applied and bandaged up. he looks out of place in your fancy bedroom and it makes you snicker. once a loser, forever a loser.

"okay, that's it. does it hurt anywhere else?" you ask, setting down the ointment. he's only injured slightly, it was mostly his bitten lip and some bruises from the rough handling.

he nods and you instantly look at him with concern. "where? where and what hurts?"

he exaggeratedly points at his heart and you scoff, rolling your eyes, trying your hardest not to smile at his antics. "what does the big baby want?"

soobin is pensive and shy at first, he wasn't expecting you to take his dramatics seriously. but soon his lips curl into a cheeky grin. "...cuddles, and kisses." you blush at the idea, grimacing. you stand up and walk away from him towards the bed.

soobin panics at your reaction. "s—sorry! i was being stupid, you don't have to take it seriously, don't leave me!"

"shut up, do you want it or not?" you say, sitting on the edge of the bed. arms stretched out. he grins widely, hurrying up to jump into your arms. you two roll over into the bed as you stretch the blanket to cover your bodies. you admire soobin's joyful expression, stroking his hair.

don't get it wrong, you still think such blatant displays of affection were cringe, and soobin was still a loser. but maybe it was never that deep, and you could definitely see yourself get used to this.

you lean down, your lips connecting with his, he feels so plush and soft underneath you. he's still a masochistic dog definitely, and you still think he's a pervert, but he's also so precious and lovable, there was so many things you could list about him.

you two separate. he seems beyond pleased with himself, burying his face into your neck. "i feel like this is all a dream, and i'm going to wake up."

"don't insult me, dream me could never kiss this well." you roll your eyes. he snickers.

"yeah, you're right. no one else could make me feel this way except real you."

you feel yourself grin, really grin. not out of malice, a grin of genuine satisfaction and joy. you feel your eyelids drooping as soobin drifts to sleep in your arms. if you told younger you that this was how things would turn out with soobin, they probably would've cussed and flipped you out.

oh well. they will come to accept it eventually anyways. this wasn't so bad after all.

end.

☆★☆ BONUS SCENE

soobin drools, senses heightened. tied up, gagged, blindfolded and a vibrator pressing at his cock. he wasn't going to last much longer. you were cruel, so fucking cruel. and he had no idea where you even were. did you leave him? how long has it been? minutes? hours? did you leave the room?

he was snapped back to reality by a harsh slap on his thigh. he trembles and sobs, curling into himself. he feels a pressure at the back of his head before the gag loosened up, allowing him to breathe and talk.

"pl—please, can't, can't— gon cum, can't hold it in. mercy, please mercy." he cries out, voice broken. he sobs and thrashes around. hoping he can charm his way out of this. he was going to burst any moment and he was going to be punished harshly for disobeying you.

"colour?" you whisper by his ear, making him jump with a whimper.

"g—green." he sniffles.

"good boy." you coo, stroking his chest, circling around one of his nipples. he cries, nerves jerking all over the place. "beg for it."

"please..." he begins, swallowing down a sob.

"please fuck me... please give me permission to cum— i— i can't last any longer— hic!"

you interrupt him with a large intrusion in his ass, he almost mewls in both pleasure and pain. "a—ah! so big, feeeels good, uhhg feels so good. love you, love you."

you grin cruelly, thrusting into him hard and accurate. the pleasure he was in twists into panic as he realises you hadn't given him permission to cum yet. and if you kept going at this pace, he was surely going to cum before your permission.

"w—wait ple—ease let me cum! i've been good, i've been good! please let me cum, i've been so good for you!" he snivels, were you going to be nice or heartless today? the closer he reaches to his climax, the more he frets. grovelling down at you, begging relentlessly for permission. before long, he feels his limit.

"i'm going to oh god i'm going to! i'm sorry i'm sorry i'm so disobedient i'm going to disobey you! i feel it— hic—" he cries louder, and just before he climaxes, you press down on his lower stomach, whispering in his ear.

"come for me baby."

with that, his body violently convulses, and his back arches as his mouth opens in a silent scream. cum forces its way out of his painfully hard dick, a guttural groan digs its way out as he empties completely onto the bed.

after his ejaculation, he huffs heavily, whines mixed in with his wheezing. you let him ride out his orgasm, pulling out of him. you untie him and take off the blindfold. kissing him sweetly.

"you did so well, you were so cute soob." you cheekily grin. he smiles tiredly up at you. body sore and thoroughly ruined. he stretches his arms out and you take it as a signal to lift him up into your lap.

he settles into your embrace like it is the most natural thing in the world. giggling into your shoulder. "that was amazing, i love you so much."

"i gueesss i love you." you tease.

"hey!"

you chuckle, kissing his cheek. "just kidding, i love you." soobin whispers a quiet 'i know.'

you two enjoy each other's company for a second, only interrupted by soobin's growling stomach. "greedy." you jab at him with a grin and he pouts.

"i'll get you something to eat at the convenience store." you shake your head, getting up to leave but soobin tugs at your sleeve.

"i'm going to be lonely, take me with you!"

you roll your eyes at his dramatic antics, but oblige anyways.

☆★☆

at the convenience store, you buy a simple bread bun for soobin, your hands warming up in your pockets as he enjoys his snack. it was a cold winter, and you wanted to return back to your apartment as soon as possible.

"yo!"

a vaguely familiar voice calls out, you turn around to be met with a recognizable face, a gasp on your lips—

"holy shit, kiwoo! i haven't seen you since graduation." soobin vaguely identify the man as one of your old high school friends.

"it's been quite a few years, hasn't it," he chuckles, though confusion was evident in his eyes as he recognises soobin.

"soobin? what are you doing here?" he pauses, glancing between you, and then soobin, and then you. like the gears of a clock slowly turning.

"you guys are still friends?" he asks.

you and soobin exchange a look. "not really." you chuckle.

he tilts his head and you dutifully wrap an arm around soobin's waist. a cheeky grin on your face as you show off the glinting gem on your finger.

"he's my fiance, obviously."

★★★ end ★★★

an: i hope you guys enjoyed the fic and the ending!!! it took a lot of contemplating on how i was going to end this highly anticipated series... i do have a lot of inbox asks for alternative realities and spin-offs, so i will probably work on them next!!! also so sorry for disappearing for like multiple months... i had been so busy with life help!!!

anyways... reshares and comments are always appreciated! please do let me know how you felt about the fic....

[lovelytsunoda]

my fun // oscar piastri

(gif is by @/oscarcito!)

summary: it’s not every day that a first date lands you in the emergency room, or gives your date a concussion before the food has even left the kitchen

pairing: oscar piastri x female reader

warnings: hospitals, blood, the awkwardness of a first date. low key inspired by season 1 episode 3 of the big bang theory when leonard and penny go on their not-date

yn yln must have been dreaming.

as she sat on one side of the wooden table inside the smokehouse, arms crossed in front of her as she looked over at her date, there was a part of her that kept telling her that there was no way it could be real.

she was quiet and smart, and could recite the entire periodic table in order from memory, and the boy sitting across from her was leagues prettier, with an athletes body and the ability to control a room with one singular lame joke.

he’d moved in across the hall from her earlier that year, and she and her friends had immediately dropped everything to watch shamelessley as the young man and his chiseled athlete friends and carried cardboard boxes up four flights of stairs.

oscar piastri was thinking the same thing. how a big famous athlete like him got someone as sweet and humble as yn to agree to date with him. sure she was awkward, and sometimes very shy, but at her core, she was sweet and funny and kind. not to mention the simple beauty of someone who never wore makeup (not to say oscar wouldn’t have adored it if she did, he just knew that she was pretty without it as well).

neither party really knew what to say, sitting in a nervous silence with the menus spread in the table, a glass bottle of water from the waiter sitting next to two half-full glasses.

oscar reached for the popcorn, a sweet and salty mix he quite enjoyed, trying not to tip the bag over as he contemplated what size brisket to order.

“hey, do you want to see something neat?” oscar blurted, picking out for decently sized pieces of the sweet popcorn. “do you know how to juggle?”

“juggle?” his date asked hesitantly, eyeing him over the popcorn. “you do?”

“went to a circus camp when i was seven.” oscar shrugged. “there’s not much to do in my part of australia to be fair.”

it took a few tries for oscar to get started, but soon enough, he was juggling with the popcorn, the kernels delicately passing through his pale, calloused hands.

and believe it or not, yn was impressed. she broke out in a wide smile, giggling from her seat as she watched the young man in front of her. he had a goofy smile on his face, and seemed well in his element. he caught her eye across the table, stuttering his movements as he shot her a wink, losing two kernels. the kernels rolled under the table, and the boy cursed.

“don’t worry about it, that was really impressive.” yn laughed. “nobody has ever juggled popcorn for me on a first date.”

oscar laughed. “glad to be of service.” he took a small bow before accidentally knocking the steak knife off the edge of the table, wincing at the sound of metal hitting floor.

he cursed, pushing his chair back. “I should probably pick that up, shouldn’t I?”

“can you reach it with your foot? it might be easier.”

“don’t worry, I’ve got it!” oscar insisted, slipping off the chair.

“are you sure?” yn asked hesitantly, bare knees pressed against the cool cast iron that was holding the slats of the table together.

oscar slipped under the table, on his hands and knees in the dark smokehouse as he fumbled around the the steak knife, crushing two kernels of popcorn underneath his khaki pants in the process.

yn, meanwhile, was hyper aware of the fact that her date, who she barely knew, was crawling around under the table, in public, near her slightly parted legs.

oh my god, she thought. do they think he’s going down on me?

there was a bang under the table, the slats shaking. she reached over the menus to grab the glass water bottle as it threatened to topple over.

“oscar?” she shouted “you alright?”

“yeah.” his voice came out strained, almost as if he was hurt. “hey, did you happen to spill any ketchup?”

she felt a sinking feeling in her stomach, as a droplet of something warm fell against her toe through the lip of her sandals. “no. there isn’t any on the table.”

“fuck. I think I might need an ambulance.”

————

the emergency room is not where she wanted to spend her first date. it smelled like antiseptic soap, the lights too clinical and the plastic chairs too stiff. her neighbour looked pale, skin stained red from where he had bled.

as she understood it, oscar had hit his head on the cast iron hard enough to draw blood, but not enough that he was at risk of trauma or hemorrhaging.

or at least, that’s what the off-duty medic seated two tables over had said.

“how much blood do you think I’ve lost?” oscar wondered aloud, almost certain he was concussed. “if it’s less than a pint, I should be fine.”

yn laughed, rubbing him on the shoulder. “oscar, you’re fine. you still have most of your blood.”

“I’m so sorry our date ended like this. I ruined everything.” he exhaled, leaning to rest his head against the wall, still clutching g the bag of frozen peas given to him by kitchen staff against his cut.

she smiled to herself, reaching for his free hand. “what makes you think you’ve ruined anything?”

“the fact that there’s blood streaming down my face? or that were in the emergency room instead of sharing a hot chocolate fudge cake?”

they both laughed at the sheer absurdity of their situation, and yn resisted to urge to rest her head on his shoulder.

“you’re quite the man, oscar piastri. maybe you can make it up to me? I’m sure the smokehouse will be tripping over themselves to give us a free meal after tonight.”

oscar laughed lowly, a look of pain crossing his eyes. “you’d still want to go out with me after tonight?”

“of course I would, you adorable idiot.”

oscar looked like he was about to say something else when a tired-looking nurse in pink scrubs came rushing out of a hallway.

“mr and mrs piastri?”

yn flushed, her face heating up under the nurses gaze. “oh no, we’re not married. not even together, really.”

with all the energy he could, oscar winked at her before shakily getting to his feet in the sterile room. “wait for me, my love.”

yn laughed, watching him walk towards the nurse.

as far as first dates go, this one wasn’t bad at all, was it?

[cautious-soup]

Bully!(Only I make you like this) Satoru Gojo x Fem!Reader

Part 2

Part 1

CW// Noncon, degredation, physical abuse, implied choking, destruction of personal property :( Satoru isn't very nice, ooc Satoru Gojo in that he's an evil bastard

Summary: Satoru has lots of fun at your expense, and tries not to think about his feelings.

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Satoru never had a hard time talking to people. Most considered him easy to talk to, pleasant. He was a little baffled, honestly, to see just how differently other people were treated compared to him, but it made sense. He was amazing, after all.

It was because of this that he never had any trouble getting into your dorm building.

"Hey, my bad I forgot my key, can I go in after you?"

Like usual, the person nods and lets Satoru in without a second glance. He hums on the elevator up to the 4th floor, gets off, and strides to your room.

He knocks three times, and when you don't come to the door, he sighs and texts you.

Satoru: let me in

Y/N: Im not here, go away

Y/N: *there. Im not there, so leave

Satoru: lolololol

Satoru: hey this is actually a great opportunity for me to show u something

You squint down at your phone in confusion, then panic when you hear a key turning in the door. Sure enough, Satoru walks in like he owns the place.

"These hard keys are really outdated huh?" He says, "Such a security risk, waaaay to easy to make copies," he twirls said copy around his finger, and you sag in defeat.

"You hurt my feelings Y/N," Satoru sighs, "I mean, lying, really? You don't wanna see me that bad?"

"I wish you were dead, that's how much I don't wanna see you," you say. It doesn't matter how you provoke him, it'll be awful either way.

"Aaah, such a rude thing to say," he says, "Now I'm real hurt, Y/N, and the only way I can feel better is if I hurt you back,"

Your breathing quickens. Scooting back on your bed, you squeeze your eyes shut as Satoru closes in on you.

Then, your door opens again, and you nearly sob with relief.

"Oh!" Your roommate tilts her head at Satoru, "Woah, aren't you on our basketball team?"

You can see Satoru's jaw tick, and you scramble for a response.

Getting out of bed, you smile at your roommate, "Hey! Are you headed to the library? I was just about to go myself, wanna head out?"

Your roommate looks between you and Satoru, "Um, if I'm interrupting--"

"No! No no you're not interrupting anything, come on, if we hurry we'll be able to grab smoothies on our way there,"

As you both stand in the elevator, your roommate peers at you curiously.

"Was it ok just to leave him in there like that?"

You shudder, but play it off as a laugh, "Yeah he uh, the library's crowded so he wanted to use my room to study hahaha,"

"...so why'd you suggest going to the library then?"

You give an answer so half assed you don't even remember it. As you stiffly walk towards the exit, your phone buzzes.

Satoru: ur so funny

Satoru: dw ill getcha next time 👍🏻

Satoru: its gonna hurt btw lololol

Satoru pocketed his phone and hummed. He'd gone through the trouble of learning your roommate's schedule, but evidently that wasn't enough.

♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♠︎♤♤♤♤♤

He did, in fact, make it hurt.

It was as if all of the effort he'd ever put into anything was focused down into the singular purpose of wrecking you.

Your grip on your sheets slackened as Satoru caged you in from behind, draping himself over you.

"Tired already?" He asks, you feel the heat of his words against your cheek, "I've got plenty of time, Y/N,"

But not enough.

Lately, Satoru's been making up reasons to see you. It was getting close to midterms, and he told himself he'd be done by then.

Really, he just expected to get bored with you.

But you kept giving, kept feeding something inside of him he didn't even know needed to be fed. Every time you whimpered, cried, begged, pleaded, and bled for him, that odd chasm in his chest shrunk just a bit.

You shudder as Satoru noses the damp nape of your neck, and wait for it to be over.

Some time later, Satoru's phone buzzes.

Sho: party's lit

Sho: u still coming?

Satoru pants, running a hand through his hair and sitting up. You shift on your mattress, turning so you're on your back, and stare up at him.

Satoru tapped his fingers idly on the side of his phone. He looked down at it, then down further at you, at your puffy eyes, at your hair splaying over your pillow, at the bruise around your neck.

Satoru: nah. u guys have fun tho

Tossing his phone aside, Satoru resumes, grabbing your hips and sinking inside of you. You whimper, and he's thankful it's too dark for you to see his eyes rolling back into his head.

"Hngh, nnf, ugh,"

Satoru grins at your blubbering, leaning down to lick up the tears streaming down your cheeks.

"Better hold on tight babe, I'm nowhere near done yet," he whispered.

Your bed frame rocked against the wall so hard that night, you knew it would be impossible to explain away the noise tomorrow.

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What would be the appropriate reaction to losing a laptop with years' worth of essays, creative writing pieces, poems and school projects, and watching it sink to the bottom of a duck pond?

You're not sure, you honestly can't react at all.

Satoru is laughing his ass off next to you, still holding your bag and letting the remaining contents fall to the ground. He reels his arm back and chucks your bag into the pond too.

"Heehehehe, oh man, I wish I could keep that look on your face in a bottle," Satoru panted, trying to catch his breath.

You make a lot of expressions that he likes. Sometimes, when he's bored in class or with running drills on the court, he'll cycle through them in his head.

Lips pursed and brows furrowed means you're thinking about how to solve a problem (and Satoru isn't a problem that can be solved.)

Eyes wide and lips slightly parted means you're scared. He always loves making this look melt into one of anguished pleasure, tears streaming down your cheeks, lip bitten raw, eyes squeezed shut.

But he realizes something in that moment, watching your bag soak up the dirty pond water and start to sink.

He looks over at you, at the expression on your face--or lack thereof.

He's never seen you smile before.

Sure, he stalked your friends' social media (you don't have social media) and saw the group photos you took with them, saw your smile, but you never smiled around him.

He looks over at the pond, then back at you.

Maybe you're ticklish.

He tries it the next time you're under him, your bra pushed up and your panties around your ankle. He grins when you're off guard and runs his hands over your sides.

You stare incredulously at him.

"Eeh?" He pouts down at you, "You're not ticklish at all?"

You scoff, "Sorry, being bullied and sexually assaulted regularly doesn't really put me in a laughing mood,"

Satoru sneers, "Kch, ok. I guess all that's left is for me to put you in an even worse mood then huh?"

Unsure of what sore spot you hit, your pussy endures another hour of being well and truly fucked.

And when you think he's done, Satoru heaves you up by your thighs and walks across your room to the full length mirror propped up by the door.

You gasp, impulsively covering your face with your hands, but Satoru drops you to your feet, grabbing your wrists with one hand and keeping them twisted behind your back.

"You're going to look," he murmurs lowly. You meet his blue eyes peering over your shoulder in the reflection, "You'll look, and you'll see what I do to you,"

You sob as Satoru grabs your chin and forces you to look at yourself, he realigns himself with your entrance and starts punching moans from your throat. You struggle against his grip, but he tightens his hold, and fucks you harder.

Eventually, you're begging. You're humiliating yourself and begging to cum, each thrust leaving you dumber than you were before.

"See, there's no need to act all high and mighty Y/N." Satoru purred, turning your chin to face him, "In the end, you're nothing but a dick hungry whore,"

You sag against Satoru as he slots his mouth against yours, letting his tongue past your lips. The ensuing orgasm lights up your entire nervous system; it almost hurts.

Satoru lets go of your wrists and lets you drop to your knees in front of the mirror. You lay on the floor panting, vaguely registering the sound of rustling clothes.

Satoru appears in front of the mirror again, tidying up his hair and tugging his shirt down, before turning and leaving your room.

"See ya around," he says without looking back.

You stare at the door in silence.

Part 3

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A/N: Hello! Sorry if any of this is formatted weird, I just decided to do everything on my phone this time lol. Hope you all enjoyed reading this :)

[raceweek]

hello. alexalblondo's rude anon coming here to humbly and politely beg for galex primer because i dont understand their history. george said he lived at alex's family's house at one point? how - weren't they already racing? sorry thank you humble thank you 🙏🙏

hello!!! thanks chris for the referral FKFJDKD

i have overwhelmed my alex and george tags so much that i fear i could never capture all of it but my galex key moment anthology is under the cut!!

karting/early single seaters

Alex thinks they met in 2011 but the footage in georges flip phone says he knew alex back in 2009.

Their first actual interaction (so far as they've told the world) was when alex was world champion with the intrepid karting team and bc he was their reference driver he was asked to help pick the drivers who were quick to replace him when he moved up and he picked george (and charles) so they were then part of that same intrepid driver programme for a while. Interestingly, alex was always at least one year above him bc of their ages and george says the fact they didn't really race directly against each other before 2016 was probably why they became such good friends.

They did a deep dive of their camera rolls from this time on twitch a couple years back and talked about the oldest pictures they have of each other in their camera rolls (1:25:36) which was cute.

2017

2017 is the year george basically lived with alex. They were also sharing a trainer whilst alex was competing in gp2 and george was in gp3. George was doing mercedes sim work at their factory so rented a flat in milton keynes near where alex lived but according to alex that rent was wasted money bc george had more meals at alexs' house than he did that year. Also as detailed in those links, the Great Mountain Biking Incident of 2017 occurred at this time so we have the fun mental image of george literally wheeling alex into a&e on a wheelchair bc that is an actual event that happened.

2018

George and alex both in f2 fighting for the title year wooooo!! They never really fought on track but we did get fun tidbits like when alex pipped george to the win at silverstone bc george had a slow pit stop and giggled about it in parc ferme (5:42) & these post session interviews.

also some incredible photoshoots.

2019

Promotion to f1!!! We started the year at winter testing and this nugget that they have both accepted that they are actually tied together by the strings of fate. They're doing fun media stuff like karting and bullying each other over percentage of apexs hit at the skypad (video). 2019 also the start of the umbrella sharing. They were just together a lot… more skypad analysis!!!

2019 also has MY personal favourite galex moment which was hockenheim 2019 and the 45 minute phone call galex had on the way home after george missed out on scoring what would have been his first point in f1 and only point of the season.

There was also the summer break and enjoying a training camp together, exchanging infections etc. Alex also took george to meet lily for the first time, bc that’s a normal thing to do.

There was also the rookie of the year vid, and the rookie season review vid at the end of the year. Much was happening.

2020

The year started with f1 trying to race during a global pandemic. Fun! On the singular media day before everyone realised just how stupid that was they were being annoying. The lockdowns did give us the twitch streams. George was initially so bad at virtual racing he had to secretly consult alex's brother for help behind alexs back. George was also actively seeking alex out like a missile at any given opportunity and at one point felt necessary to declare that he wasn't alexs boyfriend when someone asked if alex was going to be streaming that day. Anyway my lockdown twitchscapades tag has a post with a playlist of all the streams that haven't been lost or deleted if you want to feel joy and have a spare million hours.

Racing resumed in July with the covid team bubbles and within two races and one qualifying session george was defending alexs honour to sky sports and the world in a truly remarkable fashion.

At the end of the year alex was unemployed....even more tragic than this loss was that alexs career difficulties were so extreme he started ghosting george, which devastated him to the extent he needed to publicly drag him for it.

There was also george asking lily to post alexs n*des on instagram and lily responding with if anyone has them it would be you which was perhaps the last time george had access to his own social media password.

Despite george not liking it they celebrated alexs first podium by going golfing! and reverse! George was also gifted an alex albon signed autograph card for christmas and said that he'll put it somewhere special x

2021

The beginning of 2021 was during lockdown and there was more fun virtual gps except the only two drivers doing it were george and alex so they were just bitching and gossiping and threatening to steal strategies and abu dhabi 2016 each other. Particular shoutout to the time they had a virtual race on valentines day and alex put a suit on for it and george was baffled. Immediately after valentines day was georges birthday which lily used to thank george for letting her borrow his boyfriend from time to time.

Then the season started with george enduring the season alexless and not letting anyone forget about it. Alex was turning up to races after being locked in the simulator until the early hours posting stuff like this on instagram and otherwise stumbling over his words after getting whipped on the ass.

Perhaps the defining moment of the galex 2021 season was george pushing the williams board to sign alex so heavily that they had to actively shut him out of proceedings. Also at this time there was this cute congrats from alexs family and one from alex to georgie about the mercedes seat.

anyway here's some more random 2021 nuggets:

i've seen him topless a few times

george getting alex a good deal on a merc x

yet More golf

the handover

georges driver room

2022

They truly lost every inch of personal space in 2022 like. Hello. Hello. Hello. Hello. Hello. Hello. The back signing Hello.

2022 had alex having his appendix out, nearly dying and alexs family updating george whilst alex was in the icu and then when alex returned for the next race in signapore a couple weeks later (insane behaviour) george was like mmm audacious of him to be here.

Elsewhere alex discovered georges photoshoot and was making screensavers about it. Alex also discovered hair dye and george was making instagram stories about it.

other random 2022 nuggets:

george is alexs fave f1 driver excluding himself

this skit williams did of lily finding a huge picture of george in alexs driver room

whatever this image is of lily george and alex

private plane carpool

double date

2023

@onadarklingplain covers the whole year for you much MUCH better than i ever could here!!!!!

and that brings us to present where they're just as weird and freaky with each other as ever!!!

[opashoo]

askayaso! I’ve been looking to see if you’ve ever made a Watcher/Nightcat ref for Undergrowth, and couldn’t find one. I was wondering if you had any ideas?

even if you don’t respond, I’d still like to say your art and the scuglang document are incredible.

askasa! I actually didn't have any references or specific design decisions in mind for the Undergrowth version of Watcher, aside from a few key details that I won't elaborate on at present. I'm also going to be revising this design and reworking the reference soon, but it's nice to have an initial design out there, so thank you for asking and inadvertently convincing me to draw this. Funny enough, Watcher DLC doesn't interfere with the plans I already had for Watcher, so I don't have to change anything in that respect! For now:

Watcher is from Luna, or somewhere very close by. Her title, banolnak yopwa "Atop the Watchtower" was given based on her attitude; aloof and troubled, prone to lashing out, much preferring to stay on the outside. The isolation of sentry and patrol suit him just fine. What few friends he has call him banno "Watch".

She's been plagued her whole life by feelings of anxiety and absence, a sense of having no real identity or personhood. A local mystic examined his kohga and revealed the problem to be spiritual in nature; an absolutely bizarre occurrence, that Watcher has had only one, singular past life, but one so vast that it spans hundreds of thousands of generations. Surely this must be the source of her troubles, that her juhei must bear the brunt of this massive spiritual burden. After that point, Watcher became obsessed with trying to learn more about her past life.

Eventually, while in Metropolis, he learns about a shelter of slugcats in the nearby drainage system, run by a furred slugcat from a far-off retaining wall, home to an order with a much stricter spiritual dogma, very likely connected to the mystery of Watcher's kohga. It's not long before Watcher comes to Saint's shelter seeking answers.

kohga vn continuing / 1. continuation 2. one's whole, continuous self; the thread of self that ties one's multiple lives and selves together

juhei n the current, living version of oneself amongst all the different past lives and cyclical possibilities within one's kohga

isoyja adj spiritual / n spirituality; matters pertaining to the spirit, religion, and the metaphysical, such as samsada, kohga, and hoda

damae n that which bleeds / 1. wound; ulcer

While much of Undergrowth is inspired by east and southeast Asia, my wife suggested that Watcher (and by extension the residents of Luna) have a more Scandi aesthetic. I thought that was a bangin idea.

[iwritenarrativesandstuff]

Theory: LX intended for CXS to dive to save LG

Preface and disclaimer: this is kind of an out-there theory; more a few loose thoughts that I found interesting to think on - I fully expect that some or all of this will turn out to be totally wrong. Link Click loves showing us scenes only to later have them be revealed as either a) shown out of order, or b) recontextualized by further info we weren't initially privy to. I fully expect this will be the case in s3.

For now though, concerning Cheng Xiaoshi's death, Yingdu arc is what we have to work with. And there's a particular scene that really, really bothers me: the very opening confrontation against Vein.

(Actually, there's a lot that bothers me. There are multiple timeline inconsistencies that can't simply be explained by animation error - the most egregious is CXS figuring out his powers by diving alone when he had to figure that out in s1, well after the point many timeline changes had already occurred that would directly lead to the events of s2, our current timeline. It makes my head hurt. That's why this post is not about the inconsistencies, even though it bothers me that I cannot come up with a good explanation for this atm. My best guess is that multiple possibilities or potentials are collapsing in on a singular timeline due to LX, SYY and/or LG's actions but I really don't know. Whatever. On with the theory.)

Let's start with a key assumption. If this assumption is proven to be wrong later, then the theory very much falls apart, but I feel fairly confident about this for now.

Assumption: CXS's death scene from Yingdu episode 1 is the original timeline, as is the dive back to the basketball court.

The reason I think this is from both a narrative standpoint and a character one. From a narrative standpoint, it makes sense to show us either the first timeline or the most recent one after s2's cliffhanger ending. These are the timelines that actually have consequences for our story. Here, we see a lot of focus given to the transfer of Cheng Xiaoshi's power, and his dying request of Lu Guang. This dying request, to save everyone, is referenced in a later nightmare sequence, where Lu Guang is reminded that everyone has died. I don't think it makes much sense to focus on Cheng Xiaoshi's final words in a repeated timeline, unless they were framed as something Lu Guang has clearly heard before, which, they weren't.

Which brings me to the main reason I believe this is the original timeline: Lu Guang's reaction.

He's in shock for much of the events here - doesn't look at all like he knows or knew what was about to happen. If this wasn't the original timeline, I would expect him to look more desperate and sad than shocked. His reaction after diving also doesn't make much sense to me if this isn't the first dive he's attempted. Again, I'd expect him to look more haunted and sullen if this is a repeat. Instead, he looks around at his clothes and at his surroundings for a bit before getting hit by the ball, sees Cheng Xiaoshi, gasps and immediately tears up. <- Not the reaction I'd expect from a man used to diving.

Hopefully, you either agree with me or can at least suspend your disbelief enough to hear me out.

Let's go over what's odd about the initial Vein confrontation, yes?

Vein never actually shoots or even aims at Cheng Xiaoshi

"This is the punishment for you changing the past."

Vein doesn't finish off Lu Guang afterwards

Point 1: Vein knocks Cheng Xiaoshi back and twirls his gun. A few seconds pass in which Vein does not aim at Cheng Xiaoshi at all, just stands there, maybe to make sure he stays down. Lu Guang rounds the corner and Vein immediately fires a shot at him.

If Vein wanted to kill Cheng Xiaoshi, he could've already done it here. He's fast. He fired that shot at Lu Guang in a split second. The implication here is that Cheng Xiaoshi was not the target - the target was Lu Guang.

Point 2: Vein tells Lu Guang that his actions are punishment for changing the past. If we go by the assumption that this is the original timeline, this... doesn't make much sense. Lu Guang doesn't have the power to change the past without Cheng Xiaoshi's ability. It suggests that Vein is not after them here because of Lu Guang's attempt(s) to save Cheng Xiaoshi, but for some other deviation.

Conclusion? This is a shared punishment. In the original timeline, it seems very likely that Lu Guang and Cheng Xiaoshi made some kind of change, or changes, to the past. <- This may actually explain why Lu Guang in the current timeline is so adamant about Cheng Xiaoshi not changing anything.

It is possible that the combination of their powers resulted in some kind of significant deviation, or else that they were mistaken for or had the blame pinned on them for someone else's actions. Either way, Vein seems to only gun for one of them, but it's not the one I'd expect.

After all, if this is a punishment for changing the timeline (and presumably, you wouldn't want them changing anything else), why wouldn't you shoot the guy who actually... makes the changes? Why try to shoot Lu Guang?

Well... maybe you would if you actually wanted the exact opposite outcome.

Vein misses Lu Guang several times in this scene. It's a little strange, given that he's been backed into a corner and his attempt to fight back does him no good at all. You can see in his fight against Shao Yuanyuan/Wang Qing in episode 6 that he does have good aim and is actually fairly efficient with his objectives. You could say he's toying with him, and maybe so! Vein clearly loves a good fight. Much like Liu Xiao, he has the vibe of a "hunter". But Vein also is stated to have a certain set of principles. To me, it feels like he's putting on a show.

This brings me back to the main question: why didn't he try to shoot Cheng Xiaoshi? Why kill everyone connected with them and attempt to kill Lu Guang, ostensibly as "punishment", when Cheng Xiaoshi is the one who can actually dive?

Point 3: Lu Guang helps Cheng Xiaoshi into the darkroom and locks the door. Vein fires a shot but then just kind of... stands there, grimacing. He doesn't even try to break the door down, which I'm sure he easily could. <-This is the weirdest part of the scene.

I don't think this was supposed to happen. I don't think Cheng Xiaoshi was intended to take that bullet.

I think Vein put on that show, wanting Cheng Xiaoshi to see him shoot Lu Guang. I don't think Vein expected Cheng Xiaoshi to dive in front and die.

You could say that Vein just decided to wait outside for Lu Guang to come out instead of exerting energy, but that's strange because in the time afterwards, from 23:11 on September 12th when they stumbled into the darkroom to just a little before 00:05 on September 13th when he leaves, Lu Guang gets injured, but is left alive, and Vein is nowhere to be seen. There is absolutely no way Lu Guang was able to fend off Vein, and the only other possible sign of a continued skirmish is more blood on the photo and its positioning (this could be an animation error, truthfully - everything else in the scene is the same as before - but if it is an error then that helps my point even more - there are no further signs of struggle).

The police didn't arrive and force Vein to leave. The implication is Vein left Lu Guang alive after waiting patiently outside the door for him to come out. Why? Why wait?

Well, one possible explanation: he didn't want to interrupt the power transfer.

Think about it. Why leave one alive, but kill everyone else? If it was to avoid them making changes, only one of the pair with the actual powers needs to die. Not everyone connected to them. This situation seems explicitly orchestrated to make it so Cheng Xiaoshi cannot resist diving back. I suspect he was already intending to - if you look at the scene where Lu Guang glances down at the shattered photo, his breath hitches - I suspect Qiao Ling is already dead and they know that.

Cheng Xiaoshi's last request is to save everyone, since he is now unable to - he cannot take the shot himself, so he passes the ball to the person he trusts most. And I think this was the goal all along. In a situation like this, how could he not try to save them? Especially if, as I suspect, the rules regarding past and future weren't made quite as strict in this timeline as they are in the current one.

Except this didn't go quite according to plan, because in epic Cheng Xiaoshi fashion, he did something that wasn't anticipated and died in Lu Guang's stead. Not ideal, clearly, from Vein's reaction, but it doesn't actually matter.

All that matters is that one of them dives back. The outcome is the same.

Why kill everyone, but leave one alive, and with a power that will allow them and inevitably tempt them to try to save their loved ones? The most obvious answer is if this is exactly the outcome you wanted.

--

Now, why do I say Liu Xiao intended this if the main actor here was Vein? Well, for one, Vein doesn't seem aware in Yingdu arc of changes to the timeline, except in this scene. Needless to say, he is definitely not privy to Lu Guang having future knowledge - Lu Guang is suspicious to him, but it does not seem to occur to Vein that he could be from the future. This information likely comes from Liu Xiao, who Vein works with during the arc to obtain Cheng Weimin's book and who unzips his body bag at the end of the season. Out of anyone who could've orchestrated this, our favourite puppeteer manipulator is the most likely candidate.

I won't claim to know what's going on with Liu Xiao, nor what his goals actually are, but I suspect he has at least some future knowledge or is somehow able to catch glimpses of parallel lines. He comes across as much older in the flashbacks with him and Li Tianchen as children. There is an odd bit in Yingdu episode 2 during the roulette scene where there is a flash to the gun killing him. Metaphor or vision? It's hard to say.

Interestingly, in the Bridon pv, Liu Xiao looks back at Cheng Xiaoshi and Lu Guang in the airport and smiles but does not approach them. Lu Guang even mentions that they didn't run into Liu Xiao in the past timeline.

At the end of episode 1, in the current timeline, Liu Xiao says "Finally, we can start the game." It implies that all the pieces are finally in place. This may be why he approaches Cheng Xiaoshi in the airport and asked Xia Fei to trail him, expecting him to have dived back from the future.

I suspect his knowledge isn't perfect. Liu Xiao is a gambler. He's not like Lu Guang, who needs to have perfect control and anticipate every outcome. He wasn't really paying much attention to Lu Guang at all until he noticed something strange - ostensibly his heartbeat. Again, I suspect the person he intended to have dive was Cheng Xiaoshi. Lu Guang was not expected - but he can still work with this, and clearly does, because at no point does it seem like any of Lu Guang's actions or knowledge disrupted his plans. Instead, it seems like everything is going smoothly because of his actions.

Everything Lu Guang does, including his decision to stall Vein and try to get him killed, seems to work out in Liu Xiao's favour. I suspect, inadvertently, that Lu Guang is doing exactly what he wants him to. Lu Guang's only real moment of "masterminding" is therefore implied to have been anticipated. Liu Xiao smiles when Xia Fei receives the call about Vein's "death", as if he knew.

"You might have seen something interesting."

It checks out. This frame from Train Trail during his verse says "the puppets are standing" over everyone's silhouettes - including Lu Guang. Lu Guang is also frequently shown as either trapped or drowning in official art and in Yingdu - if he was intended to be a mastermind on equal footing with Liu Xiao, I really don't think we'd see so much of his feelings of helplessness, nor his repeated assertions that he essentially has no idea what he's doing and doesn't actually expect the outcome to change. Liu Xiao doesn't seem to have any such compunctions or concerns in this sense.

If Lu Guang does turn out to have been essentially manipulated into this situation, it would follow a particular pattern seen in Link Click. There are characters who enact control over others but are ultimately being puppeteered or manipulated (Liu Min trying to control what is said about him comes to mind, as does Li Tianchen's literal control, to an extent), as well as characters who, through desperation and/or love, and the limited options available to them in their shitty situations, become complicit in something immoral and suffer for it (Emma taking the money from Zhu, Li Tianxi being the other half of the remote control, Vivian becoming a scammer). If Liu Xiao really did orchestrate Lu Guang's dive, then Lu Guang would follow both these patterns, as a puppet with the power of future knowledge that can (and perhaps has) hurt others, and as a victim who made a desperate choice and is now trapped by its consequences.

One last bit of evidence - this time explicitly about Liu Xiao.

^Everyone is familiar with 091305 by now. September 13th at 12:05 am. The date and time Lu Guang dived back from. However, something interesting here: the year is blurred out.

Moreover, I see people say sometimes that this is Cheng Xiaoshi's death date - it isn't. Remember the time from when they were in the darkroom? Cheng Xiaoshi's death occurred on September 12th, just a little past 11:11 pm.

Here's one last fun thing before I close out this post:

Liu Xiao, why does the date on your Tetris game-over say September 12th, 2024 when Yingdu arc takes place in 2019? I wonder whose game-over this could be?

[bnnysweets]

COME BACK TO WHERE YOU BELONG

ex!abby x ex!reader part 2

♡ ྀི pt. 1

author’s note: english is not my first language. again, this is inspired by a asmr.

warnings: a lot of tears. both of them are MISERABLE after the break up. but this is fluff i promise! reader is only called baby so gender is unspecified.

a week passed since you moved back to your old apartment, everything was sad and blank, so apathetic that you felt at a hospital, and every time you thought about that, you remembered abby. you two didn’t talk, besides texts saying what you forgot at your once shared house. now, less angry and less scared you thought about the situation and you were regretting, you let a singular comment without context shake all your relationship, the relationship that you and abby loved so much, that you fought with your entire family because you loved her more than anything, that both of you built with such care and love, and all was just dust now.

abby was miserable. she couldn’t eat because she just wanted to eat your food, she couldn’t slept because she wanted your body on hers, she couldn’t work because her mind would always remember what you said at her office that day, she was barely living, just existing. the truth that why abby didn’t told you about the new secretary was because she was temporary, only for a few days and lucy was truly a pain in the ass, always flirting with abby and trying to get inappropriately close to her, and abby was full of work because she wanted to ask you to marry her that year, she was just ensuring that she would have the money for guarantee that you had all the luxury you deserve.

you arrived at abby’s building and when you were at her floor, mr. thomson was leaving his house “hi sweet pea! it was so long since i last saw you, is everything alright?” you nodded your head because if you said something you would cry, he said goodbye and you were in front of your abby’s home, with the hands trembling, holding your keys, you finally opened the door and she was taking a shower. you came with her shirt in your hands, just to have a excuse of your visit, the place was a total mess, like a tornado went through the room, you smiled, you weren’t the only one suffering, abby was always neat and organized, if the living room was like this, is because she’s not doing well.

you sat on one of the armchairs in the room and waited, your heart was beating so hard that you could hear in your ears. abby entered the ambience and you shivered, you were so stuck in your head that you didn’t listened her steps. she didn’t acknowledge you, went straight to the kitchen and poured the first alcoholic thing she saw, “what are you doing here?” she asked and sat at the sofa, you extended the shirt for her, she looked at you with a confused face and let a unamused giggle, “this wasn’t even my shirt anymore, only you wore it.”, you were crying, silently, but crying a lot. “i’m s-s-sorry… i-i know m-maybe you don’t want to f-forgive me b-but i wanted t-to try.” you hiccuped so much and talked so softly that if abby wasn’t really paying attention she wouldn’t listen, she took a deep breath, “why did you didn’t listen to me? why did you trusted a random thing more than your girlfriend? why?” she asked deeply hurt, a tear ran through her beautiful face. “i-i was j-just so full of emotions, a-and that woman was so r-rude with me when i-i said i was your g-girlfriend, i-i don’t know w-why i did, but i’m remorseful, r-really. i-i’m s-so d-dumb, so f-fucking dumb, abby, i l-love you m-more than anything else in the w-world.” abby gestured to you come closer and you did it without think twice, she put you in her lap and hugged you, securing your body.

you truly sobbed now, and she finally was crying too, abby is the type of people that only cry when things really affect her, she hates feeling vulnerable. when you calmed down, she held your chin and forced you to make eye contact with her, “you’re going to promise me to never do it again, understood?” you nodded really hard and she hugged you again, with your head in her neck, “you were so dumb, baby, so dumb.”, “i knoooow.” you mumbled, smiling. you got off her neck and looked at her face again, admiring all the little freckles that you had counted a million times, “all this time alone made me think how i never want to lose you, never. everything hurt, every little thing that i did, reminded me of you and how i would be happier if you were with me. my heart was so heavy, like a ton, i could felt it thumping against my chest, aching for you.” you said and abby was enamored with your words, with the rawness of everything, “i will never never never never doing anything like that again, i promise you.”

right when you stooped talking abby attacked your lips, kissing you with urgency, neediness, the kiss was aggressive but filled with tender, she held your waist like you were about to jump off her, you grabbed her hair like it was your last grip on reality.

now you rested your forehead on her’s, giving each other littles eskimo kisses, “i never want to lose you again, never. i know this might sound a little alarming but i don’t know who i am without you, without the biggest love in my entire life. these days were a living hell, i couldn’t stand wake up and don’t feel you hugging me so i just stayed in the bed, hopping that maybe it would offer me a little of empathy and swallow me.” you laughed without humor after you realized what you just said, you looked down a little ashamed and abby guided your face to look at her with her fingers “hey, no need to be ashamed. i was miserable without you too, i love you more than anything else in the whole world, okay? we’re all good.” she sealed your lips, “i love you too, abby. sorry i acted like a dumbass.” she laughed lightly, “we’re definitely never going to take a break again.” “i hope so!” you pecked her lips again, and rested your head on her neck, looking up to her while she was looking down to you, a million of words were shared just by that look, and that was the moment you both realized that what you had, is forever.

dividers by @fairytopea

[towotones]

HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO ONE OF THE MOST WILDLY MISCHARACTERIZED INDIVIDUALS IN MHA !! 🩸🗡

A lot of people don't understand Chizome's ideology or reason for existence in MHA because that is what Horikoshi intended with his character. Very little information is given about him despite his influence throughout the MHA universe because he's supposed to be nuanced. He's not meant to be completely understood in MHA or in our universe as watchers.

It takes a lot of deductive reasoning and intellectual ability to be able to grasp his intentions, ideals, behaviors, and the complexity behind his character in general. Most of the fandom will water him down to a crazed lunatic who just likes the idea of slaughter, which is blatant misinformation.

Most of the people who continue to mischaracterize him:

1) Didn't pay attention to anything he says or just don't have the intelligence necessary to comprehend the complexities of his advanced language.

2) Didn't pay attention to the "Aftermath Of The Hero Killer Stain" episode.

3) Didn't pay attention to his interaction with All Might.

4) Have not watched or read Vigilantes.

5) Deliberately ignore the meaning behind his actions and words as Stendhal in Vigilantes.

6) Do not know what happens in season 8 or further in the manga.

Those who get him, GET him. It's a shame that Horikoshi practically only gives us scraps of him, but again, that is intentional.

He plays a very important role in one of the six key points in My Hero Academia, joining ReDestro, Endeavor, Overhaul, the PSHC, and Shigaraki.

ReDestro: Freedom of quirk usage, mutant acceptance, complete liberation from the current hero society.

Endeavor: Quirk eugenics and the progression of quirk singularity.

Overhaul: The elimination of quirk eugenics through the use of the quirk doomsday theory - wished to erase quirks as a whole.

Shigaraki: The complete destruction of the hero society so that something new can be born from the ashes.

PSHC [Employers of Hawks & Nagant]: Limiting quirk use and creating several regulations on heroes such as the licensing and ranking system - while eliminating corrupt heroes and irredeemable villains behind closed doors.

Stain: A reformation of the current hero society to bring back the old age of heroes - true heroes - while eliminating both false heroes and villains who contribute to the corruption of the hero society (also the job of the PSHC).

Anyways, happy birthday, Stain. You did not deserve to be done dirty in season 8. I'm dreading it getting animated. ༼ つ ಥ_ಥ ༽つ