#so im practicing with these imagines

[igzsatelier]

Saw the RE4R gameplay and I thought I might as well watch RE2R playthrough too, and now its just Leon brainrot all day everyday baby

Imagine RE2R Leon waddling through the dark sewer water as you watch his back moving further into the murky tunnel. His shotgun held close to his chest so he could protect you both. The piles of trash in the corner makes your nose curl, both the smell and the sight. Gross.

You cried out your disgust dramatically while trying to keep up with Leon. He merely chuckled at your distress and he assures you that you two won't stay here for long. Flashing you an amused smirk over his shoulder.

"If I keep following you for more than a minute I might die to shit," You grumbled bitterly as you glared back at him.

He barks out a laugh.

"That's too bad,"

He turned his body to you, a certain and boyish grin on his handsome face.

"You won't get rid of me that easily."

💛

Imagine you and RE4R Leon dashing through the blurry chilly air. The cold smoke makes your skin crawl with anxiety.

It doesn't quite help you two much since it was ridiculously freezing in this maze-like freezer room, and playing hide and seek with a durable exoskeleton zombie with a tail as sharp as a blade.

As soon as you both hear the,

Ding!

You both ran for the elavator, as quickly as your adrenaline can carry you. Cold sweat dripping down your forehead while puffing cold air.

Leon slides through the elavator with you right behind him, he slammed the lighted button on the wall. The metal doors staggered the zombie's tail attack and stumble on its feet. You both sighed a moment of relief once the door calmly closes and carries you to the upper levels.

Although, the relief was gone when Leon dropped to his knees and clutching his head. He was groaning and grit his teeth, shaking his head to try and give him some ease from the numbing pain. The Plagas showed itself through Leon's arms, creeping through as black veins.

Like he was caught in a spiderweb.

Concern etched on to your face. You mimicked his stance and held his shoulders firmly, calling out his name. Determined to snap him out of it, and worried how it was making him worse.

He doesn't notice you, but you kept holding him. As if your comforting touch would help him.

As if to remind him that you were there with him.

[drgnflyteabox]

can't get much better

pairing: ghost / simon riley x fem reader summary: simon is forced to take some time off - he makes the most of it. tags/warnings: very soft, pregnant sex, size difference, softdom!simon- he's a masculine man who doesn't let his lady lift a finger :'), oral (f), one (1) butthole kiss, dacryphilia, daddy kink (sigh), minor minor foot stuff, allusions to injuries and chronic pain, title from an adrianne lenker song w.c: 2.5k

You try very hard not to think about it, but it's hard not to notice how massive he is.

Even shirtless, he somehow looks bigger, muscles flush with heat and exertion under the sun. He toils and breathes hard like an ox, working while you sit on the porch wrapped in his big flannel. Wearing his clothes is like being swaddled in a blanket straight out of the dryer, warm and nostalgic and syrupy with love. It leaves you feeling some type of tender. You're afraid of that feeling sometimes, of how soft it is and how soft it makes you. He could ask anything of you, and you'd yield like he was pressing his thumb into a bruised peach.

You have.

"How are you two?" Simon is so quiet when he wants to be. One would think he'd clomp like a horse with how big he is, but he can float like dust. It used to startle you, but you've been sinking deeper into the memory foam mattress of this life with him and it doesn't anymore.

"Tired, even though I'm not doing anything," you squint at him through the late afternoon sun. It haloes him like an angel.

"You're growing my baby in there, love. That's not nothing," his voice is rough, it always will be. But it's rough now like earth and soil rather than rough with pain and smoke the way he'd sounded when you met him.

You're feeling especially nostalgic, it seems, not like it's hard here. His hand is warm on your belly.

"I guess so," you let him pet you for a moment. Your stomach is swollen but not as big as it'll get, just enough to veto pants. A few months to go still. "How's your back?"

"Argh," Simon says, taking a heavy seat next to you. Dismissive and yet he groans a little when his muscles unclench. Classic.

You slowly reach up and nudge him until he's facing the field opposite to you, face toward the golden afternoon sun and his back to you. He's never asked you to do this, to take care of him, but it's your favourite thing in the world.

His back is always rock-hard no matter how many times you take your knuckles and fingers to it. Just a condition of a hard life lived for him, countless falls and impacts and pushing through injuries. There's a slight slant to his spine now that isn't there in the pictures he's shown you of his youth, but the stiffness is the same. You might've said he was born to be a soldier, had you not known him as a father. He could do both, but - you'd never say this out loud - you were privately grateful for this injury. It wouldn't take him out forever, but the recovery would be long. Long enough to get the homestead started, to get you pregnant.

Simon would never be completely still. This was compromise. Sweet compromise, a life started and time with him you could think back on the next time he shipped out. Making the most of things, he would always say. Making the time count.

"That feels good, love" he groans. Bending forward slowly, relaxing, he's like an aloof stallion finally accepting an apple from your hand. Acquiescing. Showing you his back. It's trust, and you savour it.

"I bet it does," you tease back, just a little. Your fingers are nimble and attuned to his specific aches and pains. "Are you hungry for dinner?"

"I'm hungry for something," he turns, slowly, hands reaching for your thickened waist. Huge, work-roughened hands. War-roughened hands, holding you like a delicate egg. Sometimes it feels like he's the only thing that holds you together; all your pieces, everywhere, until he's holding you.

Kissing him is a contact sport. It's his hands moving, cupping your breast and then your pussy through your panties, your own hands wrapping around his broad shoulders like he's the only thing keeping you from drowning. It's open-mouthed, breathing into each other. Impossibly, you get softer, melting like ice on a hot day. 

Before you can lean back on the bench, he stands and lifts you with him. He's still hot from the day, damp with sweat, pushing you into the house while kissing you still.

"Simon-" you start, with no goal in mind. "Please."

"I've got you, love," he murmurs. He always does. Before you know it, you're laid back onto the plush armchair in your living room. Simon knows this is the most comfortable place for your newly-aching body. Affection swells in your chest uncontrollably and comes out through your eyes leaking down your face. Sure, pregnancy makes people emotional - but you're still embarrassed, touched by how considerate he is.

"It's alright, shh," he thumbs the tears at the corner of your eyes. His cock tents his work pants, aroused by them. "Let me take care of you."

The next words he murmurs are into your cunt, right over your panties, tongue laving over the already-wet fabric. "Just need your daddy, don't you?" You clench in tandem with his words, hot all over, skin prickling. He pushes your dress up, bunching it right under your tits.

It's reminiscent of how you spent the first night with him, on the very first day you'd met. Hurried, his big head between your thighs and clothes hanging off you still while he made you fall apart.

He's fucking good at it, too. Pulls your panties to the side and builds up the pressure with which he sucks on your clit, softly and then harsher until you shake. You've been extra horny lately, always wet around him and always so swollen. The scrape of his five-o-clock shadow against the sensitive skin of your inner thigh is what tips you over, clamping his head tightly and shouting your orgasm into the heady summer air.

"That all it takes?" Simon grins, chin wet, fingers moving from your hips to your pussy to gently rub along your slit.

"Give me a second, please," it's humbling how quickly you come nowadays. Quick and intense. Fireworks.

You set your foot on his shoulder and he turns towards it, kissing your ankle. Patience is rare with him, something come about only since you confirmed your pregnancy. You miss being overwhelmed by him, miss the nights where he'd guide you over the edge one, two, three times in succession.

He pushes now, just a little, not waiting for your go-ahead but watching you intently. His fingers spread your cunt in a V and he puffs a breath on your sensitive clit. You jump. He grins again, leaning down to lick you, using one hand to hold both your legs under your knees and push them until they meet the soft bump of your belly.

"Hold them there," he says. It's spoken not to you, but to your hole, which he spears his tongue into. You obey as you're helpless to do, holding your legs up and giving him an unimpeded view. It's more than vulnerable, it's not only baring yourself to him completely but giving him the authority to do what he wants. What you need.

Simon eats you out like it's a kiss, slurping you down and letting you leak until the evidence of your weakness to him is all over you. Your legs are wet, and it drips down onto your other hole. He pushes a thumb into your cunt, dipping it in and out.

"Needed me, did'ya? Watched me all day," he's so smug, sometimes. His lips find your bare foot, kissing your sole. "Been wet like this all day?" His other hand finds the meat of your asscheek, spreading you open further, letting the split of you open to him. He leans down, kissing your inner thigh, then your other hole. You whine and clench your pussy around his thumb. 

"So needy," he murmurs, finally finally moving back to your clit. Flicks his tongue over it, something that might've been teasing before but is intense now. Your hands tighten against your legs, head thrown back.

"Oh please- Simon!" You shout again, abs drawing up, stars in your eyes. "Ahh- I'm-"

"I know, honey," his lips suction again around the hard little pebble of your clit, eating like a man starved. 

This is how he likes you. Losing control, coming apart, helplessly vocal against the onslaught of his tongue. No matter how many times you've done this, it never gets old. The release almost always makes you cry, especially intense like this. You're wet all over, face and cunt and legs. He is, too.

"You still with me, love?" He pets your flank like you're a horse.

"Yes," but that's not what he wants.

"Yes what?"

"Yes, daddy."

"Good girl," and fuck if that doesn't always fill you with warm fuzzy energy. Wipes your brain, keeps you soft and floaty.

He guides you up and out of the armchair, lifts you into his arms when your legs shake too much. That electric feeling is still coursing through you, tingles in your extremities as they come back to life.

The hand he strokes over you is half affectionate, half proprietary. You've been his since the first time he laid eyes on you.

He reminds you of it as he sets you down gently on the bed, your hair a halo around your head and hands reaching to his face where you pull him down for a kiss. Hands find his shirt, pulling it off you, and then the dress. Fingertips touch the headboard, your arms stretching up, making room for him. Slips your panties down your legs.

It's a lingering, indulgent kiss. Breathing each others air, gasping into his mouth, he puts his elbows by your head and lays as much weight down as he can without cramping your full belly. He's as vocal as you, groaning and rutting like a dog.

"Ready for me, sweet girl?" He leans out of the kiss, sitting back on his heels. You nod, desperate and pulsing between the legs again like you didn't just come twice.

"Daddy's gonna take care of you, don't you worry," he rearranges you like a doll, turning you to your side and getting between your legs. A pillow is tucked under your belly, and he tests your flexibility by holding your leg tight to the length of his body. Your hamstring burns a little with it.

A hand holds your knee, another to your waist. His jeans scrape against your sensitive skin.

You focus on little details. His scar, touching his eyebrow and splitting through his nose, ending down by his jaw. The knuckles on his fingers holding your knee, and how rough the pads of his fingers feel on your waist. This man has never had soft hands in his life. Those same hands capable of so much force, so much violence, the very same that hold you and guide you. A shepherd, you his lamb.

The weeping head of his cock kisses your hole, catching there and traveling up. He taps it against your clit until you're tensing, whining, needy again. Tears down your cheeks.

He steadies you, pets your waist, guides his cock inside and it feels like you can breathe again. His mouth laves hot kisses over your ankle, the sole of your foot again, reverent and controlling all at once. The stretch burns - it always does, and maybe always will. Simon is just so big, thick all around and the mushroom head of him could always bump your cervix if he's not careful.

He's careful now, but only just. You can sense his control fraying, his hips driving forward steadily but his thighs tensing and his grip getting meaner. This is your favourite part. Watching him sweat, breathe hard, taking his pleasure in you.

"Yeah-" he cuts himself off with a long, drawn out groan. Deep, from the bottom of his belly and out. "Already so full of me, aren't ya? Can't get full enough."

You plead with your sounds, words out of your grasp. Your hands clutch at the sheets but it isn't enough. He's solid, he's your anchor, but he's losing himself in your cunt and you're free falling.

"Play with your tits for me," he commands, pumping faster. You're reflexively tightening around him, clit jumping for attention, squeaking each time he lets himself in as deep as possible and touches the mouth of your cervix.

Sunlight slowly fades on the bed, the last golden rays escaping out the window as you're bathed in dusk. 

There's nothing to do but obey, hands finding your swollen breasts and squeezing. They've been sore and huge, like that week before you get your period only it's been a couple months. None of your bras fit anymore.

Simon appreciates it, he loves it. Has you cooking for him with your tits out, nipples peaked and pussy leaking. They bounce, now, stopped only by your hands pinching and twisting. It's insane - no one in the world could replicate the feeling. No artist, no musician. Electricity zips from your breasts down to your clit and shit - you might come just like this, untouched, just full of your man and fondling yourself.

"Fuck, I can feel you squeezing me. Fucking," he pants, leaning over you, bending your leg. "Pinching my dick, sweetheart. Your pussy's so fucking good."

The orgasm begins in your toes, tingling. Your muscles tighten, drawing up, up, towards your cunt, which is making obscene sounds around him.

Simon sees the signs, sees your eyes rolling and your body going taut. He abandons your leg in favour of rubbing your clit with two big fingers quickly, up and down.

"That's it, sweetheart, come all over my cock. Go on," his voice is a snarl, barely distinguishable as human, beastly. "Be good for daddy.”

It's like the crescendo of an orchestra, like a summer afternoon in august, like waking up without a clogged nose after being sick, it's - really fucking good. You're near sobbing, crying out his name, abandoning your tits to reach for him desperately. He meets you halfway, shuddering his own orgasm into you. The press of his hips against yours is better than buttered toast, the delicate press of his chest against yours as he lets your leg go is bliss.

"Si-imon," you slur, hands on his cheeks. He laughs and kisses your forehead.

"What's that, sweet girl?"

"I love you," you cry a little more then, feeling him pull out and lay next to you. You're boneless.

"I love you too," his arm reaches across you, pulling you into him. "Both of you." Hand on your belly again.

"That was insane," you pant. He barks a laugh against your hair. "I'm serious."

"I know you are, love," he kisses your forehead, petting your stomach. You can tell it's meaning, can feel the gratefulness behind the kiss. He's saying thank you, for staying with him, for making him a father. Your hand finds his, squeezing back a wordless reply. Of course, it says.

<3

[lucabyte]

Taking pride in One's own appearance.

[lazer-meme]

love love love steddie + supportive wanye

thinking about wayne and eddie going on an annual fishing trip (like thee Munson Men Annual Fishing Trip™️) just like a little weekend away. and the first one is coming up after eddie and steve starts dating. over breakfast eddie jokingly complains about having to go and tries to get out of it. but wayne is used to his dramatics so he just gives hmms when appropriate because eddie’s whole spiel never got him out of it before and he tells eddie that.

steve watches the whole exchange with amusement when wayne asks if he’s looking forward to it. and he’s like ??? because he assumed it was just a wayne and eddie thing. and wayne is like i just told eddie all munsons must go can’t get out of it kid.

steve gets flustered and is internally is like oh??? all munsons,,,

or like after the trip a neighbor asks wayne if they caught anything and he pulls out his wallet to show a picture they took on the trip. wayne passes it with ‘here’s a picture of my boys’ and to steve’s surprise it’s a picture of both him and eddie with their biggest catch.

and just idk wayne casually accepting steve into their family and throwing steve off guard with it.

[carnivalcarriondiscarded]

thinkin' about Bardaby and his illusion smoke...

[irishmammonagenda]

You pout, arms crossed up against your chest, staring at your boyfriend who currently has his eyes fixated on the game on his PC, mouse and keys being clicked rapidly while the otaku sits cross legged on his desk chair, tongue sticking out in anticipation as he progresses with the battle.

You shift in the bean bag that you made yourself at home on, having long set you DDD down, finding that it had completely lost its entertainment value. Call you a spoilt brat, more millte than the ten year old's in makeup aisles at supermarkets, but you wanted your boyfriend's attention God Dammit! And you wanted it now!

The Avatar of Envy pays you no mind as he continues playing his game, having probably forgotten you were in the room. Well you had been here for hours quietly on your DDD. It was fair, you supposed, though as he starts singing the praises of a certain Ruri-chan, the only thing you could feel was your boyfriend's sin.

That seemed to remind Leviathan of your existence. You huff. He reaches a checkpoint and turns around, jumping when he sees you. "O-oh! S-sorry! M-MC...I-i forgot you were there!" He says awkwardly, rubbing the back of his head as his face turns a red that brings out the purple of his hair.

"You should be sorry...." You sulk, sinking further into your seat, Levi flatlines, eyes widening as he nearly falls off his own chair.

"I-I am! I just got so into the game! And you were so quiet...and I-" He rambles apology upon apology as he stumbles clumsily closer to you, finally reaching within inches of you but hesitating. Something along the lines of 'How could they want a pathetic otaku like me anywhere near them right now?!' no doubt going through his head.

You scrunch your nose up, quickly closing the distance with a soft, chaste kiss on the lips. Simple. Leviathan still flatlines, if he was an android he would've stopped working. You grin, giving him another kiss, just as soft but a little less chaste, he blubbers something in his flustered blushy state, demon form popping out. While your pretty boyfriend was normally shy, his instincts were not, while he hid his face and sparkling eyes from you in his awe, his tail wrapped around your waist, bringing you impossibly closer to you, something you gladly accepted as you took Levi's hands away from his face and gave him another kiss, he might as well have been the Avatar of Greed with how greedily he was kissing you back.

Holy fuck, you love your boyfriend.

[swordmaid]

It was more a picture than a proper coat of arms, and the sight of it took her back through the long years, to the cool dark of her father’s armory. She remembered how she’d run her fingertips across the cracked and fading paint, over the green leaves of the tree, and along the path of the falling star. - AFFC Brienne II.

[answermywearyquery]

the theerapanyakul kids: how close are you with each other?

loan’s kinnporsche 2nd anniversary: favourite familial relationship: the theerapanyakul kids (insp: ½+½)

[motoriks]

dipping my foot into the fandom with some outfits for they :)

[scribbles-ink]

smthn that rlly hurts is i see so many posts about garroth and zenix and thats real because theyre so fuckin tragic n it makes me emo but i like. never see posts about aphmau and zenix. shes over here acting like his adoptive mother like garroth his adoptive father and we need to talk about it more oh my god the three of them make me ILL

[chotachica]

Okay okay I agree with everyone talking about the possibility of Pluto finally getting to go to France and meeting Duke in one of his shows, but I now raise you: What if they met BEFORE and Duke was actually the one to tell him about France and the lights and everything. What if Duke were the reason he wanted to go there in the first place. What then.

[heynhay]

fashion princess 😎

[saltheseajelly]

Fambly

[skitskatdacat63]

2009 Brazilian Grand Prix - Jenson Button

[sleepy-bear-tm]

Every time I think of Dimitri teaching Dedue the Fodlan language and Dedue teaching Dimitri the Duscur language I feel like sliding dramatically down a closed door

[llitchilitchi]

a dsmp fake visual novel it's such a amazing concept

i had soooo many ideas for this - different plotpoints as separate novels, each of them with a title screen that changes over time depending on how far you get into the story

L'Manberg changing from a small wooded area with several houses into the expansive country that was Manberg, until it eventually turns to New L'Manberg - all the shots from the same perspective, just of different periods of time

the disc wars, or Dream's story, being presented through the changes in the Community House - first an empty lake when you first boot up the game, then the Community House of the early chapters with Dream sitting on the roof, until he suddenly isn't there anymore, and then the Community House falls apart and has water streaming down the broken bricks, and then, eventually, a new one takes its place, but it's empty and artifician

the Egg Arc told through images of the server as the blood vines slowly crawl closer and closer, enveloping the paths and houses