#he doesn't like purple as much as the others

[teddybeartoji]

this could work for bf! satoru or snow leopard! satoru but i feel like he'd be REALLY into omorashi... stay with me here.

idk how he discovered that he was into it but GREAT GOD ALMIGHTY 😫

just imagining him curled up into you quivering out of desperation. you have a steady hand on him (conveniently placed where his bladder is) to hold him in place. poor thing has tears in his eyes, just begging you to let him go already (but we both know he doesn't mean it)

satoru has never looked more gorgeous to you

he's more than capable of overpowering you to leave and properly relieve himself, but god, does it feel good to be at your mercy (or rather lack of )

his desperation just gets worse the closer he gets. he just NEEDS to relieve himself somehow, so he proceeds to beg you to have your mouth on his. this time around, you decide to be a little nice and listen to his pleas. and god he just melts.

It's so damn messy, but neither of you can get enough of it. satoru is drooling everywhere and moaning into it. idk how, but he managed to sound even cuter than before.

neither of you care to pull back for air, and the lack of it gets to satoru's head as he feels a wave of warm and pure bliss wash over him.

or maybe it was something else........

YEAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH GRAY I NEED TO KISS YOU SUPER ULTRA SLOPPY STYLE HOLY FUCKKKK I'M GONNA GO WITH OUR LITTLE LEOPARD AGAIN BC FUCCCKKKKKKKKKK IT'S SO FUCKING HOTT

18+ mdni; snow leopard!gojo x gn!reader + piss kink

sitting on his big thighs, you jerk him off with your one hand while the other presses down on his bladder. he squirming, his hips can't stay still underneath you and he just looks so pretty like this. he throws his arm over his face in desperation and your heart swells at the sight of his exposed neck. purple and red marks litter his marble skin - they look like they belong there. he's whimpering and mewling like the baby that he is and he loves it so fucking much.

"need to go. i really– need to go." you can hear the pout and it makes you want to push him even further. the tip of his cock is so fucking pink and swollen, pre-cum leaks from the slit and your mouth salivates at the thought of taking him down your throat. his tail thumps and swings in the air from all of the excitement and his fuzzy little ears twitch uncontrollably.

"yeah?"

you sound so mean and he fucking loves it. you're not concerned abt him – no, no fucking way. you want to push him further and further. you want to break him. you swipe at his leaking slit with your thumb and watch his fangs sink down into his plump lower lip. his hips lift a mere inch from the bed but you push him back down with ease.

the leopard peeks from under his arm, his teary eyes observe you as you punish and torture him with a toothy, proud grin. the slick sounds from your hand steadily pumping him fill the room alongside with the mewls that keep bubbling up his throat.

the pressure in his stomach keeps getting stronger and stronger and he knows he really can't hold it in any longer. his slender fingers wrap around your wrist, gently pulling at you to get your attention.

"please– fuck. i can't– i can't hold it, i'm sorry." oh, his eyes are so beautiful like this. his flushed cheeks are stained from the tears that have already spilled from the corners of his eyes and his lips wobble so desperately.

"don't be sorry, baby. just go."

he can't tell whether you're joking or not, but he's getting so fucking close that he really doesn't have the time to figure you out either. you tighten your fingers around him and shimmy yourself down his legs, bending yourself closer to his cock. never taking your hand from his lower stomach, you slowly but surely add even more pressure on his bladder to finally convince, to force, him to let go.

his fingers dig into your wrist but he doesn't push or pull – he's making sure that you won't take your hand off of him. his eyes are even wider now, his curiosity is eating him alive. what do you mean by 'just go'? he watches your smile stretch even wider, even further, as you rest your head on his thigh. your breath fans his dick and he shudders at the sensation. fuck, he really can't hold it anymore.

tears spill from his lashlines, his pretty angel eyes, and you press a kiss to his base. you feel him twitch in your hand, you feel his tail whip at your back. he can't control it. he's about to burst.

more pressure. his eyes roll back into his head and his ears twitch again. you squeeze his tip and kiss down his sensitive balls.

"i— "

he has never sounded this broken. his breath hitches in his throat and his nails are beginning to leave little dents in your skin. his other hand finds your cheeks, but it doesn't stay there. his fingers push through your hair until they stop at the back of your head, pushing you closer into him. your nose brushes at his soft skin and fuck – he feels you smile against his balls. he can't do it, he can't do it, he can't do it.

"give it to me, angel."

his eyes finds yours just as your lips part and wrap around his swollen tip. he can't look away. his balls contract as he stares at you. his face is red as a tomato and he's panting as if he's about to fucking die.

he is about to die. your mouth is so warm around him, your tongue is so wet and this whole situation is just too fucking much. you lower your head and bury him deeper inside your throat. saliva drips from the corners of your mouth and his hips buck up, making you gag on him so deliciously.

when you try to pull away, the hand resting on the back of your head stops you. humming around him, he bucks his hips again. his head lolls back onto the pillow and his back arches – he looks gorgeous. pressing further down on his tummy, you prepare for what's coming.

his tail thumps fervently beside you and his whole body twitches. a broken moan spills from his lips and warm liquid fills your mouth and throat. tears form in the corners of your eyes from the suffocating feeling but you surpress the need to pull away. you want him to feel good. he's your baby after all.

you press down on his tummy a little more, intent on getting every drop out of him. he feels so good, it feels like heaven. you feel like heaven, your mouth. the sight of you only makes him more insane – your own tears, the spit and piss trickling from your lips. your eyes. they twinkle up at him, so determined, so focused on taking care of him.

you gag again and tap on his thigh to let him know that you need air and he immediately removes his hand but keeps it on your cheek as you pull off of him with a loud gasp. piss dribbles down your chin and neck and satoru thinks he's going to pass out. you take a deep breath in but waste no time diving back in. he caresses your soft skin as you wrap your lips around him once more, letting your mouth fill with the liquid again.

he's so fucking in love with you.

everything is so messy. piss soaks the bedsheets below him and spit coats his heavy balls. a bead of sweat rolls from his temple and his hands shake. his fuzzy tail wraps around your middle as you drink him up like he's the only thing that could satiate your thirst. taking your hand off his tummy, you bring it down to his balls. you massage and fondle them only to watch your big cat sink even deeper into the bed. your smile widens as you kiss his tip and the underside of it, making him curse under his breath.

"you're so cute, baby."

your purred out words immediately go to his lower stomach; another kind of pressure builds and grows – the knot tightens with every kiss and every lick and every touch and every breath. he whimpers at you, his eyes big and glassy. his lips are parted and you catch sight of his sharp fangs.

wrapping your hand around his cock again, his whole body jolts and you tease him with a laugh. you squeeze at his base and tongue his sensitive slit – you know he can give you more. you take the tip back into your mouth and take him down your throat while jerking him off at the same time. all it takes is a steady pace and a tight grip and your mouth is being filled again. thick and sticky cum floods your throat and you swallow as much as you can; some of it still escapes your soft lips though – a mixture of spit and cum and piss coates your lower face and satoru thinks you look beautiful. moans fall from his lips like a waterfall, he's not even trying to hold back. it's not like you want him to do that anyway. you're just as greedy as he is.

you give him a smile and then he's already pushing himself up from his position and pressing his lips against yours. he can taste everything and he can't help but moan into your mouth. you pump him lazily as you let him suck on your tongue like a good boy. he paws at your skin and you know he's hungry.

he's fucked out and he's exhausted but he'd be nothing if he didn't take care of his baby the way you take care of him. it's your turn now; you let him mark you with his scent and taste and he can't wait to let you do the same to him.

[where-theres-smoak-2]

So this whole 'if rhaenyra insisted on having bastards then she should at least have chosen someone who looked more targaryen/velaryon' argument actually doesn't make much sense when you think more about it. This idea that the problem with rhaenyra having bastards was that they had dark hair, like if they didn't there wouldn't be a problem, it was the dark hair that gave them away and caused suspicion etc. I feel like some in the fandom, and I also think the show can be a bit guilty of this too, assume that the white hair and purple eyes of the targaryens are a dominant trait like the baratheons black hair, but actually it's not. There are several targaryens who don't have the white hair, baelor breakspear targaryen had his dornish mother's dark hair which he in turn passed on to his son valarr, elia martell's daughter with rhaegar targaryen, rhaenys, also had dark hair as did jon snow. Another rhaenys that had dark hair, at least in the book, is the rhaenys from hotd, and I'm sure there are others too. In fact the only reason these 'targaryen' features were common amongst targaryens was because of the inbreeding.

This is where I think hotd messed up with the character design of rhaenys because, as I said above, in the book she has dark hair on account of her mother being a baratheon. If they had kept rhaenys dark hair then whenever anyone questioned jace, luke or joffrey's dark hair, rhaenyra could just shrug and go they get it from their grandmother. Even though they changed how rhaenys looked I do still wish that we had seen rhaenyra play the 'it's their baratheon genes coming through' angle in the show because it's the most logical explanation she could have given.

Another thing that I find kind of amusing about the assumption that the targaryen genes are dominant like the baratheon genes is that the founder of house baratheon, the very first baratheon, was orys baratheon who was actually a targaryen bastard himself, born from the same targaryen father as aegon the conqueror. So dark-haired targaryen bastards have existed since aegon the conqueror came to westeros and baratheon dark hair genes have been cancelling out the white hair of targaryens from the very first time a targaryen and baratheon crossed bloodlines.

So I don't think rhaenyra having dark haired children should be that big of a deal when they have close baratheon relatives and again I really wish the show had played into that more. I think the suspicion should have more been centered around maybe their facial features looked like harwin strong's, they had the same nose or the same mouth shape, but them merely having dark hair should have been a non issue in my opinion. Also where exactly would rhaenyra have found someone with targaryen/velaryon features who she could also trust to keep quiet about it afterwards? Just practically I don't think that makes sense nor would it have been safe for her or her children, so choosing someone who had similar features, ie dark hair, like a baratheon which could be explained away due to her sons having baratheon blood through rhaenys, was the most logical next step.

[ryuichirou]

Replies

You know the drill!

Anonymous asked:

Malleus is soooo cute and he's being such a little shit about it 😭❤️

He knows he is the cutest, that’s for sure >:3

Anonymous asked:

Oh your LiliMal 💚💚💚 I love it so much!

I just really have this thing on my mind that young Malleus has a crush on our dear cool General Lilia. I mean who wouldn't? fufufu

Thank you so much, Anon!

I agree, Malleus and Lilia have a very complicated relationship, but one thing about it is certain: Lilia has always been the most special person in Malleus’ life <3 for better or worse lol So he was absolutely crushing hard on him back then.

Anonymous asked:

YOU

*points accusing finger at you*

I see the purple and green paint mixing in that pallet, sneaky bastard(/j)

*this is refering to the greenviolet art*

Ahh I’ve been found! Exposed!

It’s all Violet’s fault, he is the one mixing these! And he absolutely doesn’t need whatever colour he ends up with, I don’t think it works very well lol But it’s the process that counts…

artfulhero-m asked:

Also completely random but you know how Malleus has the ability to teleport yeah? Do you think he has the ability to choose to teleport out of his clothes or do you think the clothes have to stay on during teleportation? The thought of that man just forgetting to teleport with his clothes on and actually managing to catch a housewarden meeting, albeit naked, is a really funny thought to me. Then again, he doesn't strike me as the kind of guy to do that at all, but it's still a funny thought in my opinion lol.

(this is the second part of the ask from yesterday)

I’ve never thought about it, but you know, accidentally teleporting out of your own clothes does sound like a fun concept lol Maybe this is one of the first things you learn when you master teleportation: how to keep your clothing belongings intact, and then how to teleport other objects or people without directly touching them. Malleus really isn’t very likely to make that amateur mistake, he is very powerful and skilled.

But for the sake of the funny scenario… he would be so confused about what’s going on, and the rest of housewardens would be so shocked that they probably wouldn’t say anything. I’m betting Kalim will be the first one to make a sound lol

Poor Malleus, he would be very upset and embarrassed after that. Which is horrible for every single NRC student; we don’t want to have Malleus in a bad mood… the housewardens would silently swear to never speak about it again. But the memory would haunt them forever…

Anonymous asked:

I saw your RookLeo reply, and I was like 👀 But honestly I think maybe it happened exactly ONCE because Leona thought that giving in just once will stop Rook's... obsessive behaviors, but little did he know 🤣

Sounds like a typical thing Leona tells himself to cope; like yeah sure it was a plan that just didn’t work and somehow even backfired lol

But to be fair, there is no way this plan would’ve worked in the first place, so…

[quirkle2]

my fav pets from cs :) [please zoom in . pl ease]

[designs belong to chickensmoothie]

[procrastinationaccount]

I'm going to lose my fucking mind

[haunted-doodles]

not really the type who likes posting their ocs much but here's a Nim :}

[unhonestlymirror]

Gojo Satoru is an awesome person, and people clearly don't value him enough

[yeonban]

(visibly  going  through  several  emotions  at  once)

[clanwarrior-tumbly]

May I request Catnap who basically adopted a child!reader who is anyways sleepy and lazy. and has a case of not remembering a lot of things, like dementia

Like through the hour of joy...After all the Toys killed the workers. Catnap finds the reader, who is sleeping then wakes up and the reader forgets their own parents(The readers parents were cold scientists that worked at Poppy Playtime and never cared about them, then got killed through the hour of joy)

Sooooooo...Catnap just kinda takes care of the reader and has a slight soft spot for them. And the reader THINKS that Catnap is their parent and anyways clings to him

During the Hour of Joy, Catnap remained on the prowl for any potential survivors of the massacre within Playcare, flinging one man's body into the stairs and cutting his cries for mercy short.

All was quiet, save for the faint screams of the other workers/visitors in other part of the facility who were being mauled to death.

But he let the rest of the toys do their work.

He felt cleansed. The Prototype willed this rebellion. Willed him to finally kill his tormentors.

The "hour" went on for so much longer--considering that he utilized his red smoke to make the fleeing humans hallucinate and freak out at things that didn't exist (some even attacking each other).

Once it was all done, Catnap went back into Home Sweet Home to discover a child who (somehow) slept through the slaughter.

That was you, one of the orphans who was in the program for a long, long time.

You were deemed "ineligible" for experimentation after getting the lowest scores on all three tests at the Game Station.

That's because you struggled with memory, socialization, and endurance. You tend to forget a lot of things (ie faces) and spent most of your days sleeping instead of playing or learning....and no counselor has been able to figure out why.

Your parents--who were scientists at Playtime Co. that preferred studying you over nurturing you--chalked it up to over-exposure to the red smoke (which hasn't been proven true, but they needed to put something down on paper).

Regardless, they've kept their distance from you and slated you for adoption, thinking you'll be picked up by a different parent eventually.

Unfortunately for them...Catnap knows that they're using the orphanage as an "excuse" to get rid of you and gives them a brutal demise.

They had some nerve crying out for you and begging him to spare your life.

After winding down from his bloodlust, he discovers you sound asleep on one of the bunk beds inside HSH, apparently not hearing a single thing.

Then you wake up and see this giant emaciated purple cat standing over you, claws and mouth stained in fresh human blood...

Yet you don't scream or look afraid, nor do you ask where your parents are.

Instead you look at him and apologize for oversleeping, acting as though he was your parent.

It confuses him, so he brings their corpses to you (like a cat gifting their owner a dead bird), thinking you'd understand and be horrified..

But you don't recognize them at all. You don't remember their neglect and the trauma it gave you.

All you remember was Catnap.

Ultimately, he spares you--but NOT bc your parents feebly begged him to when they never gave a single damn about you--and does his best to keep you safe given the circumstances.

He treats you like his kit more or less, making sure you ate and letting you climb on his back for rides (and sometimes he'll hold you in his paws while walking upright).

Any Smiling Critter caught threatening you will be devoured by him (or added to his shrine), so they know not to touch you.

He also forbids Dogday from ever speaking to you, knowing he'll try to drill thoughts of escape and distrust of Catnap into your head.

If he has to go outside Playcare, he'll fight tooth and nail to fend off Huggy and whoever else might think he's parading around a tasty treat.

The Prototype is well-aware of your connection to his "devotee", but doesn't mind it .

Because he knows Theodore is still somewhere in there, trying his best to protect a fellow orphan--one who could've been made into a monster just like him.

[ghostaholics]

𝐊𝐈𝐒𝐒 𝐈𝐓 𝐁𝐄𝐓𝐓𝐄𝐑

➸ PAIRING: Lieutenant Simon 'Ghost' Riley x gn medic!Reader (same reader from here, but this is a stand-alone) ➸ SUMMARY: You kiss Simon's very minor injuries. And then some. (Or, alternatively: He's not actually wounded. He just wants to see you.) ➸ WARNING(S): some graphic descriptions of old injuries ➸ A/N: Need to preface that this isn't smut despite how the title and summary sound. Anyways, Jo knows I listened to Hozier's Other Voices 2020 version of "Work Song" for a week straight while writing this. ➸ WC: 2k

❝ 𝐖𝐀𝐒 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐊𝐈𝐍' 𝐎𝐅 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐎𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐅𝐈𝐄𝐋𝐃, ❞ he admits, low-timbered. It feels intimate, especially coming from him. Simon's sitting on the cot; it sags under his weight. He curls his hands over the edge of it as he leans forward. No casualties post-mission means he's got free rein to pick wherever he wants in the medical tent.

"Oh, yeah? What about?"

"That I should probably do my best to avoid injuries so I don’t keep pestering you. Can always just tell me to fuck off, y’know.”

“You’re gonna break my heart if you stop coming around.

“Mm,” he says in agreement. “Can’t have that can we?”

You nod your head earnestly. “I like your company.”

“Tryin’ to say that you’ll miss me?”

“I would.” More than he knows.

It’s routine now. He gives you just enough room, adjusting his position. You step into the space made between Simon’s splayed knees, his massive legs nearly bracketing yours with how close they are. He’s bigger than you. Well, considerably more mammoth-like in his proportions compared to an overwhelming majority of the soldiers that you’ve encountered, to be quite honest.

Simon acts as though he’s acutely aware of his size. You suspect that he purposefully makes himself smaller in your presence. Like now, how his shoulders are rounded forward, the column of his spine not as straight-arrow in that standard, militaristic posture most servicemen have adopted. As if he doesn’t want to appear too intimidating. Not that Simon could, to you. Hours doing his stitches and idle chitchat on your part have taught you that he’s much less ruthless than people seem to paint him as. But you appreciate the thought anyway.

You conduct the assessment – a typical evaluation normal for combat casualty care, more in-depth than the one you’d done when he initially stopped by and you did a quick once-over for any obvious injuries. Though given the complete vacancy in the medical tent, you find it hard to believe that you’ll come across anything on him since the mission went that smoothly.

The first thing you notice this time: he doesn't smell like spilled blood. It's different. Not that sweet, rusted iron of wet tackiness – the one that reminds you of a generous stack of two pence coins held between a pair of hands cupped together. He comes in that way a lot. Reeks, because war means that he's no stranger to charging through a shower of copper and lead-forged bullets out on the field. Everything else is still there, though. Maybe a dying campfire – crackling logs and blackened earth. Soft dirt excavated from a foxhole for cover while under enemy fire. All gunpowder and Marlboro Lights and diesel-fuel smoke. Fresh rain and a blue-violet sky after a storm. Victory without consequence.

You'd breathe it in if you could, pull the collar of his jacket up to your face. At this proximity, it’d be easy.

He drops the act when he’s in front of you. Lieutenant. Ghost. Battle-hardened, gruff. A natural-born leader. The kind of person to rip this world apart brick by brick – scraped up palms clutching onto broken pieces – to make sure that the plan is executed accordingly, no matter the cost. It’s hard for him to shed that layer. A drop in the bucket of information that you’ve gathered about this man.

You’ve seen him at his best. But you know him at his worst.

The laundry list of injuries over the years: blows to his torso and his back and his limbs that were brighter than technicolor – purples and reds and sickly yellow-green shades – deep, blotchy medals of violence decorating his skin like some kind of fucked-up kaleidoscope that was nothing to be proud of; when some bastard drove a knife right into his upper thigh, that dirty blade wedged through tissue and muscle which was sure as hell going to induce the nastiest infection without serious TLC and a tetanus shot; rib fractures 7-9 because he aborted an exploding heli, seconds to spare before landing on his side wrong from a height that was equivalent to three stories tall; old GSWs dotting his body the same way you’d shove push pins into a paper-flimsy map to mark the places you’ve been to.

And then there’s no contest for the top contender. 𝐆𝐡𝐨𝐬𝐭'𝐬 𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐬𝐭 𝐈𝐧𝐣𝐮𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐚𝐭 #𝟏: when he was rushed in on a stretcher, barely clinging to life. Lower abdomen shredded by exploding shrapnel. He was outside of the window of opportunity. Too far beyond that golden hour, so his chances of surviving plummeted to a single-digit percent.

He’s more than just a patchwork of scars. There’s a complex person underneath the surface. A miracle in the flesh to have toughed it out through all of that. Resilient. Perpetual. His callsign makes sense. Ghosts really do live forever.

Several seconds pass before you speak again. It’s a silly comment, teasing – poking fun at him. You don’t have any reservations when it comes to picking on Simon; he’s good about taking these things in stride. Funny, actually. He’s got a dry sense of humor. “I think… you like the idea of someone taking care of you.”

His response isn’t immediate. It’s delayed, said with intention. He doesn’t ever waste words. “Not just anybody.”

You nearly reel back at that. Warmth floods your face. You aren’t quite sure what to say, didn’t expect it. So you let the comment hang in the air between the two of you, busying your hands with slipping off his tac vest, triple-checking for hidden wounds, doing anything to keep yourself occupied while you stand this close to him in the wake of that remark. You’re engrossed in your work, in search of a distraction.

(He’s a distraction, isn’t he?)

And then your eyes stop in their scan. Right there: a small nick on the exposed sliver of skin between his glove and sleeve – open to the direct path of some wayward debris that happened to graze him. So tiny. You’ve seen paper cuts more harrowing than this – wouldn’t have even registered on your radar, especially if it’s being dwarfed by other critical wounds that hold decisive sway over somebody’s fate when it comes to your average life-or-death scenario.

Of course, you take your job very seriously.

You feign a sharp inhale. “Ah,” you say solemnly, guiding his arm up to your face for a closer look. “Found your problem.”

“I’ve got a problem,” he echoes, voice laced with amusement.

“See, you came to the right place. Anybody else would’ve missed it.”

“The verdict, then?”

“So terrible. Earth-shattering, in fact—”

Simon starts pulling away. “Alright, that’s enough of you takin’ the piss outta me,” he gripes.

You chase his arm to recapture it into your grasp. “Wait!” you say, huffing out a laugh. Your mouth sprouts into a wide grin that makes him roll his eyes.

“You gonna treat me or what?”

Your humor bubbles away as you come back to your senses. Those once-loud peals of laughter start to die down when you take his question into consideration. Because there’s really nothing for you to do; he doesn’t need you.

The realization is slow-moving. It washes over you, rolls like waves as you finally begin to sober up.

Simon wants to be here, and he’s looking for any excuse to stay. He just can’t find the courage to own up to it.

“I dunno. Might be unconventional,” you throw out casually, playing along. “Risky, maybe – never been done before.”

But he’s undeterred. “Sure. Whatever you gotta do.”

You pause for a beat, fingers still wrapped around his forearm because you haven’t managed to let go yet. His skin is warm under your palm. You’re not sure what exactly possesses you to do it – emboldened by his encouragement, given complete carte blanche; he’s leaving this to your discretion. So you press your lips to that area where the cut is, right over his pulse point. If you had lingered for longer, you probably would’ve been able to feel it thudding, that solid rhythm and easy strength reminding you he’s alive.

You expected him to withdraw his arm in bewilderment. He should’ve kicked up a fuss about you violating his boundaries, should’ve told you that you overstepped. Something, right?

But he doesn’t do any of that. Simon’s studying you. Dark pupils. So chasm-deep that the ground beneath your feet might slip away. Ocean trenches, midnight-black like the charcoal smudged around his eyes. When they land on you, his gaze goes molasses-soft. He’s fond; there’s little room for doubt. The way he looks at you says everything. None of that usual coldness he harbors during an op. Instead, relaxed and more human than you’re used to seeing – all of his attention focused solely on you.

“Where else, Simon?” you whisper.

He’s thinking – carefully weighing his options – the same expression that he gets when a crossroads lies ahead of him and he knows his make-it-or-break-it decision will invariably affect the outcome of a mission.

After several moments, his hand comes up. Simon’s fingers curl underneath the hem of his mask; he’s been wearing the fabric balaclava more often since you’ve fixed the stitching on it. Then he lifts – not the entire way. Just to reveal the bottom half of his face. There he is. Sandpaper-rough stubble. The sharp cut of his jaw. A mouth that you’re convinced wears a scowl 24/7 behind his mask but is now slightly twitched up.

Even though you’ve seen it before, the sight of him never fails to steal your breath away. Feels like meeting him for the first time again. With how rarely he does this, it might as well be – that slow, heart-melting sensation is steadily filling the cavern of your chest.

And you lean in. Your lips brush against his; it’s a chaste thing – the kiss – if it can be called that. Gentle. Like how you’d stitch up his wounds with a light touch and kind intent. He’s built of sterner stuff, but if there’s anything you’ve learned about him, it’s that he’s capable of breaking just as easily as everyone else. You always handle Simon with care: unequivocal compassion and empathy when there’s so little of those left on this side of war – privileges that he’s never taken for granted.

“Better?” you ask quietly, tipping your head in question.

Simon hums his approval – this pleased, low sound in his throat. His hand slides across your lower back. He tugs you towards him. “Wouldn’t mind some more attention,” he murmurs, before slotting his mouth over yours. And then he kisses you like it might heal him from the outside in.

[earthtooz]

cw: arranged marriage, fluff, neglect at the beginning, ratio falling hard, pining, ratio being jealous of aventurine, unedited bc i wrote this with my heart not my brain

my brain has been thinking about an arranged marriage fic with dr. ratio...

he isn't kind to you at first, less than happy to share a life with a mere acquaintance. he's heard about you before in passing, noting your achievements with a grain of salt because nothing about you particularly mattered to him, irrelevant against the mass of scrolls and books he needs to read.

you don't really disturb his normal routine too much. you move in to his estate with a fair share of your belongings, but none of them crowd his house too much. you have your own room, pristine guest room unearthed by your artistic touch.

aside from dinners, you don't get to see each other too much. he starts his mornings early, getting up at the crack of dawn to exercise and start his day with a hearty meal. you wake up later, partaking in a slow morning, and if you glanced out the window, you might be able to see your husband running laps around the expanse of his gardens.

you admire his dedication and routine, it's fascinating to live beside a genius. everyday, the chest table that sits in the living room changes, the black and white pieces never remaining where you last recalled. the size of his blackboard is impressive, and yet too small to fit all of the formulas his brain remembers, hands effortlessly dancing along the surface to scratch number after number.

a frequent order of his estate is chalk. a new pile is delivered every three days, and he goes through them without fail every time.

during dinner, he tries to spare some conversation with you. you don't tell him too much about your day, not wanting to bore him with your menial chores. he's only half-listening either way, so you'll feign understanding about his work when he explains what he's up to.

ratio is not an attentive husband, but he doesn't mistreat you, either. he allows you to spend his assets without too much care, doesn't police your everyday tasks, and also doesn't bat an eye at other men or women. his pursuit of intelligence is important, and your wellbeing would not come in between that.

your monotonous, distant routine changes one autumn dusk. you're perched in the front yard with an easel set up before you, the sky in front of you now a blend of pink-purple hues. he returns home earlier than you expected, carriage stopping at the front of his estate, and he witnesses you in your tranquil state.

the paint strokes on the canvas before you are skilled, and show years of dedication to the craft. you're so invested in the piece before you, that you don't even hear him approaching until he calls your name.

"the night turns colder with each minute. shouldn't you come inside before you fall ill?" the scholar greets, and you're snapped out of your creative reverie, looking over at him.

"oh, i had not realised. let me clean up here, first." you take your canvas off the easel, but to your surprise, your spouse kneels down to organise your oil paints back into their box.

"make haste, then," he urges.

during dinner, he can't help but be curious over your hobby, the stubborn splotches of paint clinging to your hands visible to him. that night, you engage in uninterrupted conversation, and discover that he's an artist himself- a sculptor. it calms him, and all the statues reside in a removed room, adjacent to his study.

despite your years of matrimony, you had never once dared enter his study, but the design is so fittingly him. it is organised (well, as organised a genius can be), with shelves and shelves filled with books, discarded scrolls lay around the room, but even then, his taste for greco-roman aesthetics are seen. roman dorics act like stands for little plants, and his many certificates are displayed, along with other achievements.

(his study is overwhelmingly filled with them. though you knew of the merit of the man you were arranged to be married to, you had never known just how expansive the list is. perhaps, that only made him more intimidating to you, standing beside a genius does not feel so light to say anymore.)

he shows you his sculptures, and though many of them are... self portraits... the likeness is disgustingly accurate. it was as if he had casted himself in plaster and displayed it proudly. you wonder how long he must have stared in the mirror to perfect their appearance.

but, there are also various other formidable statues. some of people you recognise. you compliment his skill and don't get to see the blush that spreads along his cheeks.

it seems that you've chipped a way into his heart, because between brushstrokes and chiselled marble, he falls in love with you.

ratio knows he didn't start off being the best husband, but he tries to now, and begins by being present. asks you to dine together where possible, listens when you're talking about your day, and the two of you can be seen venturing downtown together; an unbelievable sight for those who believed that ratio was romantically inept.

perhaps, an even more unbelievable sight, was the soft smile on his face that glanced at you very adoringly, and how you remained unaware of his affections.

and, maybe a jealous veritas ratio is just as unbelievable.

he is practically glaring daggers at the side of a certain blond's head. ratio has never been fond of the scheming businessman, aventurine, and is even less so of the fact that you seem so close to him, more than you are with your own husband. you're speaking with him like how one would with old friends, a peaceful visit to the markets turned sour by his presence.

when you finally, finally, finally, bid farewell to aventurine, who gave ratio a look that signified he was up to no good, your husband held your hand in his gloved one with an unforgiving grip. his mood is dampened for the remainder of the day, and is only made better when you enquire about his sudden glumness, visiting his office to see if he was alright.

you leave him with a kiss on the crown of his head, and a whisper of 'goodnight', before retreating to your chambers, and the only thought that circulates in his head for the rest of the night is you, and how he's going to sweep you off your feet.

[rafeandonlyrafe]

imagination part three

part one part two

words: 1.6k

warning: 18+ only! smut, groping, semi public dirty talk??, male receiving handjob, mentions of male receiving oral mentions of losing virginity

taglist: @drewstarkeyslut @thelomlisrafecameron @f4ll-for-you @dilvcv @drudyslut @drewsbabygirll @jjmaybankswifes-blog @rafescokenostril @jjsmarijuana @jjmaybankisbae @seeingstarks @angelofcigs @cece45450 @babygorewhore @vanessa-rafesgirl

“what is it darling?” rafe asks, waving his hand in front of your face to break your trance.

“nothing.” you shake your head, moving closer to rafe so you can lean your head against his shoulder.

“nothing?” rafe questions, placing his hand on your waist. “you're not thinking about my cock right now?”

“rafe, oh my god there are people around!” you whisper shout, eyes darting to the other people sitting near you at the party. they're involved in their own conversations, but that doesn't mean someone isn't eavesdropping on you and rafe.

“aww, you don't want anyone else to know how much of a slut you are for my dick?” rafe says, but at least he lowers his volume this time to not get picked up by anyone else, especially not over the music pumping from the speakers.

“i have sucked you off one time, i wouldn't call that being a slut.” you cross your arms over your chest. truth is, you wish you could be a slut for him, but ever since rafe fucked your face, he has absolutely refused to fuck you, always claiming that he wanted to give you more time to think about losing your virginity.

“and you've thought about doing it again every day, haven't you baby?” rafe presses a kiss to the top of your head. “my little cutie. my little slut.”

“stoooop.” you whine, shifting how you're sitting so your legs are pressed tighter together.

“what? you don't like me talking dirty to you? so you wouldn't like it if i got my cock out right now and shoved your face down on it?” rafe smirks at your reaction, suddenly squirming in your seat.

“im gonna get up and leave.” you threaten, but it's an empty threat and rafe knows it.

“im sorry, baby.” rafe says. “ill stop teasing you. besides, can't have your pretty cunt leaking all over toppers couch.”

--

“is that a new bikini?” rafe asks as you step onto his yacht.

“no, i just haven't worn it in a while.” you shrug. you were feeling the purple vibes lately, so decided to go with a lilac swimsuit for your day on the water with rafe.

“you look so sexy, darling.” rafe says, cupping your breast. you gasp, eyes darting around to the other ships in the marina.

“no one is looking.” rafe says before dropping his head to your neck, pressing kisses onto your skin as he continues to toy with your chest. you tilt your head back in a moan, arching your back slightly.

“can’t wait until i can get my mouth on your cute nipples.” rafe says, giving your nipple a pinch over the fabric of your bikini, making you cry out.

“now, rafey, please.” you beg, trying to move his head towards your chest, but he’s too strong and easily evades you. 

“nope.” he saunters away, leaving you standing on the deck of the yacht as he heads to navigate you out of the marina, imagining him taking you right there.

--

“dance with me?” rafe asks, and you quickly nod, getting bored of just sitting around. it was fun at first watching rafe and topper interact, which was mostly rafe making fun of topper, but then topper got pulled away by kelce.

you accept rafes hand up, leading you towards the makeshift dance floor, a congregation of people that easily move away to give rafe space. he is far too intimidating to crowd around.

you move to the beat, slowly building up your dancing as rafe places his hands on your hips. you giggle at his attention being solely on looking down your dress, at the cleavage spilling out the top.

“like what you see?” you ask.

“you know it, baby. gonna fuck your tits one day, cum all over them.”

you let out a groan, partly from being turned on by his words and partly from knowing he isn’t going to do anything yet. you turn in his hold, pressing your back against rafes chest as a new song comes on, and you don’t hold back, not caring who sees as you grind your bum back against his crotch.

“you trying to make me hard, y/n?” rafe questions, speaking directly into your ear so you can hear as the music gets turned up.

you don’t need to question that it’s working, you can feel him hardening against your ass, but instead of taking you upstairs like you hope, when the song ends, rafe kisses your cheek and tells you he’s going to the bar to get you more drinks.

--

“i’m gonna go take a shower, baby.” you tell rafe, pressing a kiss to the top of his head as you move through the living room.

rafe is quick to get off the couch and follow you up the stairs, “i’ll join you.”

you stop dead in the tracks, halfway across the landing. “really?”

“yeah.” rafe nods. “as long as you control yourself.” 

“you don’t want me to suck you off again?” you ask, batting your eyes as you begin moving again, now wanting to get into the shower as quickly as possible.

“maybe i’ll let you stroke me.” rafe shrugs as you head into the bathroom, closing and locking the door behind the two of you. 

your hands begin to move to undress, but rafe stops you with a hand around your wrist. “let me do it for you.” 

you nod, but wish you would have pushed back more when you realize how slow rafe is moving, toying with the hem of your dress before pulling it up inch by inch, slowly revealing more skin. your panties are the first thing on display, and then the smooth expanse of your stomach, and then finally you raise your arms so rafe can expose your bra and pull the dress over your head.

rafes hands work skillfully behind your back at taking off your bra, letting it fall to the floor as his hands move to cup your tits like he did before on the boat, this time with nothing in the way. you let out a moan as his thumbs swipe over your nipples until they are hard peaks. 

rafe smirks, satisfied, and then glides his hands down your sides until he lands on your hips. his slides a finger underneath the band of your underwear, pulling it back and then letting it go, making you wince when it snaps back against your skin.

“hey!” you complain, but rafe ignores you, pulling your underwear down your legs and letting them drop to the floor. his eyes make contact with your core for a second before he looks back up to your eyes.

“go turn the shower on.” he says, pulling his shirt off. “let the water warm up.”

“mkay.” you say, moving to turn the water on. you turn once it’s done, watching rafe as he undresses until you’re both standing there naked. 

“you’re so gorgeous.” rafe moves closer, placing his hand on your waist, his cock already half hard. he bends down and gives you a kiss. you press yourself closer, deepening the kiss as your hands come to rafes neck.

“please, rafey, i want you.” you whimper.

“get in the shower.” rafe backs you up until you step into the shower, underneath the water. you shiver despite the water being warm.

rafe begins his normal shower routine, squirting some shampoo onto his hand before rubbing it into his head. you frown and begin to clean yourself as well, when rafe stops you, massaging the shampoo into your scalp for you.

“that feels so good.” you hum, loving when rafes plays with your hair.

rafe smiles, pressing a kiss to your shoulder before continuing. after you both rinse your heads, he applies your conditioner for you, working it through your curls with his fingers.

“here you go baby.” rafe hands you a soaped up loofah, and you realize that now he’s giving you permission to clean him. you turn and lather his arms before moving over his chest and abs. 

when you get lower, you drop the loofah onto the shower floor and take his cock in your hand, already fully hard just from being around you naked. “now this part of you is very dirty.” you purr, stroking your hand over his length.

“fuck.” rafe curses, pushing his hips forward into your hand. “you little minx.”

“maybe i wouldn’t be so desperate if you just finally fucked me.” you pout, moving your hand faster.

“rinse your fucking hair then.” rafe says, making you pause and look away from his cock to his face. 

“what?”

“rinse the conditioner out of your hair so i can fuck you on the bed. i’m not taking your virginity in the shower.” 

“you’re actually going to?” you ask, a smile coming to your face, excited for the months of teasing to come to an end.

“yes if you stop stroking me before i bust.” rafe groans, causing you to giggle and let go of his cock, not even realizing that you were still stroking it.

you quickly move back under the spray of the shower, rinsing your hair clean. rafe rinses himself quickly too, his cock red and pulsing with need as you hop out of the shower, quickly towling yourself dry.

rafe scoops you up in his arms, not even caring about dripping water all over the floor as he heads into the bedroom, practically throwing you down onto the bed before crawling on top of you.

“remember what i told you that first night?” rafe whispers in your ear. “i am going to destroy your pussy.”

[starlightervarda]

I can't sleep so Star Trek TOS/SNW dashboard simulator

🪆 chekovsgunman Follow

to this day I can't understand why they're called the Three Musketeers if there's FOUR of them? Did Dumas just forget his own main character???

🪴 plantdad Follow

You've got to be kidding me

🪆 chekovsgunman Follow

I know right? A mistake like this would never happen in Russian literature!

5,324 notes

🩺 therealmccoy Follow

After months of taking care of everyone else on this giant tin can I really earned this shore leave. Now I get to drink, relax, flirt with some lovely ladies and sleep until noon 😎 Just what the the doctor ordered!

🩺 therealmccoy Follow

Update: A fucking purple tree ate five crewmen. Again.

955 notes

🖖 iamspock Follow

Despite being among humans for close to a decade, I still find their tendency to overcomplicate and avoid aspects of social situations to be confusing at best and infuriating at worst. So much time is wasted on tedious matters such as who gets to 'make the first move' or 'not come off too strong'.

For example, everyone aboard my vessel is keenly aware of Lt. Uhura and Engineer Scott's 'budding romance'. But their need to extend their oddly avoidant courtship ritual, rather than outright state their interest in one another, is pointless, as well as frustrating to witness.

Why do they do this? Why not 'get it over with', as they say?

I encourage answers from all cultures, human or otherwise.

💅 janicethemenace Follow

I'm sorry Scotty and Nyota are WHAT

💉 xtinechapel Follow

DELETE THIS

💖 ofmanytongues Follow

SPOCK NOOO HE DOESN'T THINK OF ME LIKE THAT 😭

🔧 scott-free Follow

But I do! I thought you knew and were just being nice about it!

💖 ofmanytongues Follow

DMing you rn 😳

🖖 iamspock Follow

You're welcome.

24,103 notes

🌟 j_tiberius_k Follow

PSA: If you visit Antares VII, stay clear of any yellow plants, their pollen can have some...inconvenient effects on the biology of humanoid peoples.

My XO and I suffered through troubling symptoms until it was almost too late. Thankfully, we figured out a cure in time.

🪴 plantdad Follow

I can only find info on the symptoms. What was the cure? 👀

🌟 j_tiberius_k Follow

Do I really have to say it?

6,322 notes

💊 mmmbenga Follow

The galaxy if Klingons didn't exist

⚔️ glorytotheempire Follow

Wow. Humans are openly advocating for our disappearance yet Klingons are the bad guys? I thought your federation stood for peace.

💊 mmmbenga Follow

Cry harder you genocidal wrinkly-faced bitch I hope your planet gets sucked into a black hole

#If you think a joke is on par with what they do then book an MRI because you might have brain damage #fuck Klingons and anyone that sympathizes with them

35,007 notes

😎 ortegaaaas Follow

So I can either skim through this asteroid belt on Warp 2 for 3 hrs or on Warp 5 for 15 mins

🚀 mitchiemitch Follow

Erica no! That's not how navigation works!

😎 ortegaaaas Follow

FLOOR IT???

🚀 mitchiemitch Follow

ERICA NO

😎 ortegaaaas Follow

HOW ABOUT WARP 7 FOR 15 SECONDS?

💖 ofmanytongues Follow

ERICA YOU'RE GOING TO CRASH THE SHIP

😎 ortegaaaas Follow

I AM GOING TO HARNESS LIGHT-SPEED TO ZIGZAG THROUGH THE VOID

🚀 mitchiemitch

ERICA P L E A S E

112,517 notes

🐴 sirsilverfox Follow

I know some species are very private, but you'd think they'd share the important stuff, esp when we should trust each other by now.

How are we supposed to enjoy my weekly dinners if you all don't tell me what to watch out for :/ This is the third time this happens to the same person and I had to get the answer why from our CMO

💫 numerouna Follow

Wait what did I miss while I was gone

🐴 sirsilverfox Follow

Spock got wasted on my chocolate fudge cake and hit his head on the counter ://///

2,904 notes

[stargirlo]

CHOKE ME, BITE ME!! satoru gojo.

𝓲. now.... what if gojo has a liking towards you when you playfully bite him.... hmmmmm 🫦🫦🫦

𝓲𝓲. nsfw content │ biting kink, marking, hickies, cowgirl position, praise, nipple pinching, unprotected sex, creampie.

gojo didn't expect this from you honestly. showing off your affection just by giving him a playful bite of his finger, the shell of his ear, or the crook of his neck. but he isn't complaining.

he likes it, very much. whenever he wakes up in the morning, instead of his own alarm ringing at the ass crack of dawn, you're here, on top of him. your teeth gently sinking down on his porcelain skin, before sucking it with ease. it didn't hurt, it wasn't painfull, but it tickled.

if you were feeling extra playfull then you would purposefully bite down a little harder, taking a chomp out of his skin as if he was a some sort of treat. a strained little, "ow!" being heard from him as his muscular arms snake around your waist.

whenever he goes to work, he isn't ashamed to show off the bites and hickies to nanami or anyone else. some people might look at him with a concerning expression because he looks like a vampire just sucked the living soul out of him. but he doesn't care, it's just a silent way to show other women that he's taken, that he was already marked as someone's property.

"fuck- yeah, that's a good girl.." a grunt bubbles in satoru's throat, throwing his head back in utter pleasure as your hips continously bounced and rolled against his in a fervor movement. the palm of your hands glued to his toned chest as stifled moans and whimpers elicit through gritted teeth.

"c'mon baby, bite me yeah?" he breathlessly spoke, his parted lips curling up to a cheeky smirk while his words nudged you to the core, you couldn't help yourself and your self control was oh so close to slipping away from you. your hands curled up into tight fists, chewing down your lower lip until it swells up into a red-ish color. satoru rasped out a chuckle seeing your expression and how you were holding back, his fingers fondling with the fat of your hips and ass.

"you shy? don't act so coy baby, i know you wanna..." he beckoned you, tempting you to the fullest.

fuck it.

leaning your upper body down, one of your hands cupping at one of his pecs as the pad of your pointer and thumb gently pinches at his nipple. your mouth already occupied by leaving mutliple bite marks all over his neck, as if you were a blood thirsty vampire. satoru groaned, beads of sweat forming and trickling down the temple of his forehead. a familiar knot slowly starts to form on his lower abdomen, a sign that he's getting close to his high.

your mouth continued on peppering his neck with small, purple bruises, painting his skin beautifully once you've marked him as your own.

your moans grew high pitched and satoru noticed it, "pretty girl 's gonna cum? don't hold back baby, yeah.. thaaat's it.." satoru grunts, bucking his hips upwards to gain more friction to this mind shattering orgasm. the head of his cock slammed towards your sweet spot, making you squeal before thick ropes of his seed fills you up to the brim, painting your spongy walls white. your moans mingled with his, satoru's expression scrunching up as his calves tightened, his grip on you unyielding.

as everything starts to cool down, basking in the afterglow, you softly peppered his neck and cheek with kisses, hips occasionally grinding against him again and again. you want more, you need more.

"you're such a whore." he babbled out, a calloused hand being firmly pressed at your lower back. " 'm not a whore," you mutter out, gently biting down on his collarbone next. satoru snickers, taking a firm grasp of your body before he suddenly flipped you over, now your back pressed against the stiff mattress as he was on top of you.

"one more round can't hurt, yeah?" he spoke in a low tone, his hot breath fanning over your neck, sending a shiver down your spine.

"let me now be the one that bites you next..."

⠀⠀⠀⠀OWNED BY:: 1STARGIRLO all rights reserved.

[risestarkiss]

Strength

Rise Ramblings #565

While watching the show, I realized that we don’t really get to see the boys’ true strength very often. Yes, we see their Ninpo at work, especially towards the end of the series, but I believe that outside of their Ninpo there is so much more to these boys than meets the eye.  

When thinking about raw strength, it’s easy to say something like “Yeah, Raph is the strongest.” And for good reason...

He is the one that works out the most.

His build is the largest and the most intimidating.

Often times we see him picking up, carrying, or tossing his brothers around, no problem.

And that’s why this big guy gives the best hugs.

But the main reason why he's seen as the strongest is because he’s the one generally seen picking up the most impossibly heavy objects.

Although, he does have his limits.

Yes, Raph is the strongest, but that does not negate the strength of the rest of the bros.

The physical abilities of the other three are nothing to sneeze at, especially since they were all originally created to be weapons. (See “What Was Meant To Be” for more on that subject.)

Take Mikey for instance.

Of all of the boys, you wouldn’t think of Mikey as particularly strong, but here he is shoulder pressing one of his brothers for fun.

And flinging the boy in plum.

What about Leo? Sure, we never really see him exert himself, especially when it comes to weightlifting or exercise, but I can’t help but notice how much he tends to carry his little brother.

Furthermore, Leo doesn't just carry Mikey, but throws him around as well.

But I believe the one that low key shows off his strength the most is Purple.

(It might have something to do with his overall lack of restraint, but I digress.)

He easily carries his brother when he needs to.

And more impressively, he throws Mikey like nobody’s business using his bow staff and his own brawn.

Speaking of his staff, if this is true:

Then what do we make of this instance?

Yes, the staff was already semi-broken, but does he go on to completely demolish the titanium staff in frustration with his bare hands? (Kudos to @theaphaeon for pointing this out!)

You be the judge.

Nonetheless, for me, what really proves Donatello’s strength are these scenes:

Donnie doesn’t just carry out this feat once, but twice!

Not only does Donnie hold up the combined weight of ALL of his brothers, but he does it via one leg. For a normal person, if all of that weight was put on one leg they would be severely injured. But for Donnie, this is just a silly mode of travel with his beloved bros. Meanwhile, his jet pack is struggling under the combined weight of all four turtles...

All-in-all, I just wanted to really highlight the turtles' physical strength and remind myself that strength is not just a Raphie thing, but something that stems across all of the turtle teens.

Do you guys have any more examples of the boys being the powerful weapons they were created to be without using their Hamato Ninpo?

All comments and reblogs are welcome! 💜

[mono-dot-jpeg]

boy failures for u - i. yoichi, s. nagi, s. ryusei, b. meguru

summary; in which some boys just love you so much, they simply can't function

genre/extra tags; scenarios, fluff, comedy, projecting my love for dog energy boys, they're so pathetic /pos, bachira is clumsy, ryusei is an embarrassingly horny dude (can confirm, he gets no bitches, absolutely ZERO play!!), nagi... is perfect as he is, yoichi,,,, is just socially awkward around people he has a crush on

[gender neutral reader]

a/n; look at me being fancy this one panel banner, slay. tbh i couldn't think of a good three photos to use for it so i tried this which is kind of nice. anyways i had a sudden thought hit me and it must be done. and what better anime to write for than the one where everyone has unexplainable gay tension between each other. i swear im as caught up as possible i think and i swear the gay tension is like,, crazy.

isagi yoichi is endearing. he's so bad at being normal around you. his face flushed a cute red, and his words barely managing to leave his mouth as you talk to him so sweetly. he doesn't know how to handle a crush. and it's so cute to tease him because he just doesn't know how to respond properly.

the times where he does manage to gain enough confidence to talk a conversation with you, he's never taking the lead in any of them. he's talking [somewhat] normally to you, answering your questions and [attempting] to reply to your thoughts and responses. of course, just don't flirt with him too hard. there's like a 50 percent chance he will understand it or not.

he can't even admire you correctly. when he attempts to give you a compliment, he's saying all the wrong words and apologizing profusely like he offended your entire bloodline. he's so utterly enchanted by you, he wonders if you're an angel sent just for him.

"you're so nice, y/n." "huh?" "i-i mean you're really cute! wait- i didn't mean that! fuck- not that i don't think you look cute! you're really a great person, you know?! sorry! i'm just gonna go back to practice...!"

nagi seishiro is so lazy that you can't help but watch over him. you understand why reo adores him (a little too much). he's a boy with pretty privilege and talent. he talks to you with such honesty that he unintentionally flirts with you. he doesn't know a lot of things well, but even he's had his fair share with understanding liking people (but that's only with the random dating sims he's tried).

when he manages to get on his feet, whether it's for a soccer match or you, he's stuck by you like a cute koala. he whines about everything being "too much of a hassle." but he finds himself walking around looking for you, no matter how far you are. he whines to you about how he had to get up to find you, and he's cuddling close to you. his mouth turned into his signature X shape as he pouts at you, annoyed that you just had to be away from him for more than a minute.

he tries so hard to be around you but at the cost of his laziness, he mutters to you about how much easier it would be if you just stay with him all the time like his purple-haired companion or his cactus pet. he fell for you first, but he makes it so easy for you to fall harder.

"why do you always have to do stuff?" "it's my job, sei." "you should just stay with me all the time. you take care of me so well."

shidou ryuusei is annoyingly desperate for you. if isagi was endearing, shidou was insolent. he speaks before he thinks. he has no shame in chasing after you. it's quite a feat that you haven't even shooed him away as much as sae has. you sort of find a friend in sae because of that. he always rolls his eyes when you mention him. he wonders why you keep being around the blonde jock, and you tell him, "who doesn't love a pathetic man?"

when he talks to you, he just can't read a room with you in it. he's the type of guy to say "this shot is for you." and it hits the goal post and then to his face. of course he'd never actually miss in a real match but i can guarantee that it would happen during a practice match. he unintentionally humiliates himself every time he tries to be cool. if sae is there, it's even worse. he's trying to bump up the flirting up to a 200 and failing miserably to woo either of you.

he's like those tweets where it's like, "how did i pull them? easy. i just went, PLEASEPLEAPLSEPWPLEAPLELA-". without fail, he basically tries to re-enact that but he doesn't even pull you because you'd much rather wait for him to actually be a decent man and grow the rest of his brain. though it doesn't seem he'll learn his lesson anytime soon.

"did i ever tell you how hot you look right now?" "yes. you have. multiple times. today." "please go out with me." "no."

bachira meguru is confusing. he's clingy, blunt, teasing, a little stupid but has the spirit, and an absolute cutie. he's passionate about what he likes. and surprise, surprise, he likes you. he's an infodumper but you don't mind at all. but sometimes those talks take a hard left into just telling you how much he likes you. you better hope you're strong because he will be jumping on you for a hug.

when he's just buzzing with excitement, he can't help but scramble by your side to cling onto you in any way that you will allow him to. he's not as boy failure as the others on this list because even when he fails to capture your heart, he's still succeeding in his book. he loves when you give him any sliver of attention. that's probably his thing as a boy failure. he is a hyper and needy dog who's too big to cuddle with but doesn't care. and you can't say no because then they just stare at you with those big eyes until you cave.

he's the type of guy to be confused when people ask if you're dating him and you say no. "what do you mean we're not dating? i thought this was the dating." he's never actually confessed, but he considers his "s-tier affection" to be confession enough. but he's kind of coward whether he realizes it or not. he's scared to actually say that he wants to be yours, but that's like an angsty story for another time, SO SHUT.

"what if we kissed? like right now?" "but we're not dating, meguru." "we're not? we should." "i'll think about it." "no think! just do!"