vent post
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A drawing of the Daltons 😎😎😎
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Here's a panel from my upcoming animation meme hopefully I'll put out this next week!
Who is Howdy staring at disapprovingly?? Stay tuned to find out lmao
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«Even though we had no say in it ... I still hate it. The way I left you.»
«But you came back last night. That is all I could ask for.»
For @hetalia-rarepairweek
Day 2 | Comfort
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Random thing I learnt while doing research for a paper:
The beginning of German (radio) broadcasting history started in the so called Vox-Haus (Vox-house) with the broadcast of the first radio show for entertainment.
And there is a TV channel in Germany which is called VOX and its colour scheme is red-black.
Vox, I have questions.
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anonymous &&. said... How does his healing work? Do bits that have come off merge back together, or are new bits grown? Is it a mix of both?
it's a bit of both! i like to use the analogy of ren's body having "save states" that it defaults back to every time he's been injured. his body has one recorded way of being that it wants to maintain at all times — this is why he doesn't scar, because that would constitute as changing the default. his wounds don't close naturally, either. if he gets a cut, his skin isn't going to go through a fast forwarded version of a human healing process — it's quite literally going to stitch itself back together in the reverse of how he obtained it. ( like his body is reverting back to his previous, uninjured state. ) how quickly ren heals also varies depending on the extent of the damage. if he has a bruise or a little scratch, it will probably disappear before he even notices it. meanwhile, if his entire body has been fed through a puppet-sized blender, it's going to take time — because it wants to heal everything simultaneously and it only has the energy to go so fast without putting a strain on his power source.
ren's default state can also be changed! ( that's why it's a save state and not a save file. ) it's not something you can just do — you need to actually know how his body works, but the enhancements from dottore edited what he reverts back to. otherwise he would simply return to the sealed form ei left him as.
it also leads to the horrific fun fact that ren is basically running around with a near blank slate of a body. any muscle memory, any pain tolerance is entirely mental — if he gets stabbed, it feels like he's being stabbed for the first time, every time. ( he has brand new pain receptors. ) his tolerance really is just a lot.
as far as missing pieces go, he can actually just pop them on if he feels so inclined. if ren loses an arm, a leg, even his head, you could stick them where they're supposed to go and his body will do the rest — because it recognizes those pieces as part of himself and wants to assimilate them back to where the default state indicates they need to be. there's no real time limit on this, either. he's built to last forever; you could pop an arm back on two minutes after it's been severed or two weeks and the end result will still be the same. ( nothing decays or degrades over time. ) that being said, he can't regenerate entire limbs — a few inches of flesh here and there are fine, but he isn't an axolotl. on the bright side, because ren is effectively indestructible, he doesn't really have to worry about situations where the parts he can't regrow might be destroyed entirely. you could throw his arm into an active volcano and he'll just have to go digging for it — but it will stay mostly intact, and he will be able to pop it back on after.
i've noticed there's kind of a sliding scale of people who headcanon wanderer as more of a conventional puppet and those who headcanon him more squishy — and i personally envision ren as being on the more fleshy side because i like the symbolism of him appearing so outwardly indistinguishable from a human. his ley lines / tattoos / built in mood lighting are the only real indicator something is off — and those are only visible due to the fatui's enhancements. ( they are where his joints used to be, though. )
broken bones are also effectively worthless; ren's bones are made to be incredibly dense — they don't shatter. they snap cleanly if they ever snap at all, and in that case he only really needs to slot them back into place like he's solving a little jigsaw puzzle.
basically, this man is built like a nokia. the only injury that could ever realistically threaten him would be a blow directly to his core / chest / self replenishing electro power source — but even that technically isn't enough to kill him, just his consciousness. ( like removing the battery from a toy. )
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i'm only slightly delirious from being exhausted and having taken my sleep medication but i had a free intertwined fate from the sakura tree and i somehow miraculously got mona in a single pull on yoimiya's banner which i desperately need a good hydro (all i've got rn is barbara and she's not very good imho, someday i will have ayato but not for a long, long time) user so i'm ridiculously happy but this also means i've got GUARANTEED ZHONGLI!!! so i'm actually crying real tears of joy over this silly little gacha game rn 🥺 🥲 😭 ❤️ 💖 💕 💗
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at some point it's just like. do they even fucking like the thing they're asking AI to make? "oh we'll just use AI for all the scripts" "we'll just use AI for art" "no worries AI can write this book" "oh, AI could easily design this"
like... it's so clear they've never stood in the middle of an art museum and felt like crying, looking at a piece that somehow cuts into your marrow even though the artist and you are separated by space and time. they've never looked at a poem - once, twice, three times - just because the words feel like a fired gun, something too-close, clanging behind your eyes. they've never gotten to the end of the movie and had to arrive, blinking, back into their body, laughing a little because they were holding their breath without realizing.
"oh AI can mimic style" "AI can mimic emotion" "AI can mimic you and your job is almost gone, kid."
... how do i explain to you - you can make AI that does a perfect job of imitating me. you could disseminate it through the entire world and make so much money, using my works and my ideas and my everything.
and i'd still keep writing.
i don't know there's a word for it. in high school, we become aware that the way we feel about our artform is a cliche - it's like breathing. over and over, artists all feel the same thing. "i write because i need to" and "my music is how i speak" and "i make art because it's either that or i stop existing." it is such a common experience, the violence and immediacy we mean behind it is like breathing to me - comes out like a useless understatement. it's a cliche because we all feel it, not because the experience isn't actually persistent. so many of us have this ... fluttering urgency behind our ribs.
i'm not doing it for the money. for a star on the ground in some city i've never visited. i am doing it because when i was seven i started taking notebooks with me on walks. i am doing it because in second grade i wrote a poem and stood up in front of my whole class to read it out while i shook with nerves. i am doing it because i spent high school scribbling all my feelings down. i am doing it for the 16 year old me and the 18 year old me and the today-me, how we can never put the pen down. you can take me down to a subatomic layer, eviscerate me - and never find the source of it; it is of me. when i was 19 i named this blog inkskinned because i was dramatic and lonely and it felt like the only thing that was actually permanently-true about me was that this is what is inside of me, that the words come up over everything, coat everything, bloom their little twilight arias into every nook and corner and alley
"we're gonna replace you". that is okay. you think that i am writing to fill a space. that someone said JOB OPENING: Writer Needed, and i wrote to answer. you think one raindrop replaces another, and i think they're both just falling. you think art has a place, that is simply arrives on walls when it is needed, that is only ever on demand, perfect, easily requested. you see "audience spending" and "marketability" and "multi-line merch opportunity"
and i see a kid drowning. i am writing to make her a boat. i am writing because what used to be a river raft has long become a fully-rigged ship. i am writing because you can fucking rip this out of my cold dead clammy hands and i will still come back as a ghost and i will still be penning poems about it.
it isn't even love. the word we use the most i think is "passion". devotion, obsession, necessity. my favorite little fact about the magic of artists - "abracadabra" means i create as i speak. we make because it sluices out of us. because we look down and our hands are somehow already busy. because it was the first thing we knew and it is our backbone and heartbreak and everything. because we have given up well-paying jobs and a "real life" and the approval of our parents. we create because - the cliche again. it's like breathing. we create because we must.
you create because you're greedy.
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Against the Rules
Bucky Barnes x Female Reader One-Shot: SMUT
Summary: Bucky's trying to fuck you senseless so you'll have to sleep over. Isn't that how a friends with benefits situation is supposed to work?
Warnings: profanity, overstimulation, praise, mentions of oral sex (female and male receiving), unprotected sex, dirty talking, somewhat possessive!Bucky, MINORS DNI, 18+!!!
Word Count: 2k
A/N: I've been unreasonably horny bc I haven't had time to spend with the man I'm obsessed with this past week, so I channeled that energy into writing this shit today
Your body can’t take anymore. You’re sure that at any given moment, the last shred of physical strength that you’ve been using just to keep your legs underneath you will unravel and you’ll go crashing to the surface of the bed. You’ve been going at this for too hard, and for too long.
Bucky knows you’re struggling to keep up. He can feel the way your entire body trembles as he fucks his cock into you relentlessly, as he whispers soft praises in your ear to keep you motivated. Every time he bottoms out inside you he fears your knees might give way and you’ll tell him it’s too much, that this is the last time. Truthfully, Bucky doesn’t know why he’s still fucking the shit out of your tight little cunt when he’s already coaxed three orgasms out of you tonight, when he’s already finished inside of two condoms himself. It’s as if he’s stuck in an infinite loop, continuously thrusting into you and tugging your hips back to meet his every single time. He can’t fucking stop.
As the head of Bucky’s cock brushes against your cervix, eliciting a mix of pain and pleasure that only a well-endowed man can draw out of you, you let out a loud moan and tighten your grip on his bedsheets. Your head drops down until your forehead is pressing into the soft fabric of his pillowcase.
“That’s it, you’re taking me so fucking well.” Bucky groans out. Instead of speeding up as you’d expect, Bucky slows down and deepens his thrusts even more. Every slow drag of his cock leaving your pussy makes you subconsciously clench down, your body fighting to keep him buried inside you. “Look at that, baby.” He coos softly, leaning over you until his chest is draped over your back and his lips are grazing the shell of your ear once again. “You’re so tired, so fucked out, but your body just wants more.”
The moan you let out into his pillow is pornographic and embarrassingly needy as you arch your back and shuffle your knees to spread outward a little more. He’s right. Bucky’s always right. You want more.
He’s always taken his duty as your fuck buddy seriously. He always shows up at your door when you call, always lets you in when you find yourself at his door. He lets you vent about your day while he undoes his belt. He gives you advice about upcoming missions while he watches your clothes pile up on the floor beside his bed. He gives you the most godly form of pleasure and relief solely with his body, leaving you satisfied every time. It started out as an occasional activity, only occurring when you had a particularly bad week. After two months, it’s become an addiction. If you aren’t calling him nearly every night of the week, he’s calling you. If you can’t find the time to meet up and get each other off, he finds a way to get you alone during the work week at SHIELD headquarters. Honestly, you’re surprised you haven’t been caught on some kind of surveillance yet. It was just yesterday that he led you into an empty meeting room and laid you on the mahogany table. He spent ten minutes eating you out like your taste was the only thing he’d been able to think about all day.
“Bucky…” His name falls from your lips as you lift your head from the pillow. You watch as his headboard shifts back and forth in front of your face, hitting the wall over and over again with every snap of his hips.
“I know.” He whispers, pressing a kiss against your shoulder as he lessens the intensity of his thrusts. He feels fear coursing through him. Fear that you’ve had enough, that you’ll gather your things and head back to your apartment. It’s why he’s fucking you so damn hard tonight. He secretly hopes that you’ll be too sore to get up and get dressed, too sore to even think about getting out of his bed and leaving him tonight. He wants to fuck you so hard that you have to stay. “I know, baby. I just need one more from you.” He rasps against your skin. He straightens up behind you once more, continuing to fuck you while his hands grip your hips and his eyes take in your arched back and reddened ass. Just one more, he thinks.
“Bucky, you didn’t put another condom on.” His rhythm falters, slowing to a stop while his dick remains sheathed inside you. Fuck. He didn’t put a condom on after the last time he finished. How the hell did he forget? He’s never fucked anyone without one. It’s as if it didn’t even cross his mind when he took the last one off twenty minutes ago.
“Shit.” He groans, screwing his eyes shut and turning his face up to the ceiling. He needs to pull out and put one on if he’s going to finish this. Bucky starts slowly dragging his cock out of you, letting you feel every inch of him against your walls as he goes. “You were just letting me fuck you raw?” A loud moan escapes your lips and you drop your face into his pillow again. He freezes with only the head of his cock still inside you. “Did you…did you want me to fuck you raw?”
“Bucky—“
“You did, didn’t you?”
You don’t answer. Instead, you keep your face tucked into his pillow and your back arched as he holds the head of his cock still just barely inside of you. He gives you another second, another chance to answer. He has little control over his own movements when his right hand tangles in the hair at the back of your head and he tugs you upward until you’re only on your knees, with you back flush against his chest.
“What would you do if I kept fucking you like this? Without anything between us?” He asks lowly, letting his hips move forward only centimeters at a time. This time you moan his name softly, letting your head fall back on his shoulder. “That’s right, you wouldn’t do a damn thing.”
“This is a bad idea.” You point out as he lets half of his length sink into you.
“Then why are you letting me do it?” He questions, pulling his hips back and then thrusting them forward again. He goes a little past halfway this time, making you whimper. “Why are you letting me fuck you raw? Do you want me to cum inside you?”
Bucky picks up the pace, fucking you a little faster and a little deeper, utilizing the majority of his length as his hand falls away from your hair. You end up with one of his hands between your legs, applying just the right amount of pressure to your clit, and his other hand alternating between fondling each of your breasts. When you moan out his name but don’t offer a response to his last query, he heaves a deep sigh before falling back to sit on his legs, pulling you back with him so you end up sitting down right on his throbbing cock. The scream that leaves your parted lips and rings out in the air draws a smirk to Bucky’s face. He knows he’s big, it’s why you’ve only ever been able to ride him after he’s spent time working you up to it. He probably should’ve given you a warning this time, been a bit more gentle, but it’s your fault really. You should’ve answered.
“Fine.” Bucky sighs again, loosening his hold on your hips and giving you an opportunity to get off of his dick. You don’t move a muscle, but he can feel your pussy tightening around his shaft, he can feel your wetness dripping onto his balls as you remain still. “Get off of me and I’ll put a condom on.”
Again, you don’t move. You stay seated on his cock, trying to catch your breath and adjust to his size. You know you should get off like he said, and let him put on some protection before you both make a risky mistake. So, after another second, that’s what you do. You start lifting yourself off of him slowly, letting his length retreat from your entrance inch by inch. When you get to that familiar point where all you feel inside of you is the head of his cock, you have one dangerous little thought. What if you do let him cum inside you?
Bucky witnesses your hesitation and he’s silently praying that this is the moment your legs finally give out, that you’ll fall right back down on his cock and he won’t have a chance to put a condom on. It’s what he wants to happen, but he can’t seem too eager. Not when you’re just his fuck buddy.
“Are you gonna get off, sweetheart?” Bucky asks, his voice low and smooth in your ears as he starts running his palms along the sides of your thighs.
“Yeah.” You whisper in response.
When you sit back down on Bucky’s lap, taking the entirety of his length in one go, you catch him by surprise. You feel his cock twitch inside of you and his fingers dig into the sides of your waist as he strains to hold his load.
“Fuck.” He groans, trying his best to compose himself as you start sliding up and down on his shaft. “I thought you were getting off.”
“I am.”
The moment turns into a filthy rendition of doggystyle, with Bucky fucking you as you’re face-down ass-up and his headboard scuffing up his bedroom wall. When his neighbor bangs on the wall, signaling that you’re both being too loud, Bucky only fucks you harder. He angles his thrusts just right, hitting that spot inside of you that only he can reach.
“Shit, I’m gonna cum.” Bucky pants the words out between thrusts, letting his head fall back as he continues to rail you into the mattress. You’re at the point where you can’t even feel the rest of your body, the only thing you can feel is the way Bucky’s cock fits so perfectly inside you. You focus on it, the repetitive thrusts and outward drags of his length against your walls, the filthy melody of wet sounds and skin-slapping that fills the room and penetrates the walls all around, surely driving Bucky’s neighbors mad. “Fuck, baby.”
You feel every single drop of warmth in your lower stomach as Bucky loses control and cums inside of you. You feel every twitch of his cock as your pussy clenches around him and begs for more. You feel used, in the best way. Your fourth orgasm washes over you like a raging tidal wave, sweeping your knees out from under you and forcing you to collapse onto Bucky’s bed. He stops pulling out so far and starts grinding into you as he praises you through your high, peppering kisses and gentle bites along the side of your neck and your right shoulder.
“You’re sleeping here tonight.” He whispers against your skin, still softly rutting into you.
“That’s against our rules.” You remind him. Your voice is raspy from all of the moaning and screaming that’s taken place tonight and he loves it. It reminds him of the time you let him fuck your throat and you had a raspy voice for an entire day afterward. Everyone else thought you were catching a cold. Only Bucky knew that you’d been on your knees, swallowing his cock like such a good girl the night before.
“Cumming inside you was against the rules too.” He counters, pulling out almost completely before giving you one more hard thrust. “So…you’re going to sleep in my bed, full of my cum…” He gives you another hard thrust, making sure his load is thoroughly fucked into you. “And you’re going to fucking like it.”
TAG LIST:
@sunnyhummingbee @gyokujyn @jenniferpendragon @siciliano13 @ordelixx @crist1216 @twlkdead @claireelizabeth85 @charmedbysarge @blackhawkfanatic @kentokaze @eecummingsandgoings @nyashonality @h2oaffirmations @sadeyes61 @aka-tua-braindump @immortalfangirl @andrometda @sillysillygoose444
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what do you think of tone indicators in general?
unfortunately my thoughts on tone indicators are somewhat nuanced. fortunately, this is tumblr not twitter, so I can just write out my full thoughts in one post and be as verbose about it as feels necessary.
speaking as an autistic person (and I know there are other autistic people who don't hold this same view, this is just my perspective), I think as an accessibility tool, the extended set tone indicators in current popular use is fundamentally misguided.
the oldest ones, /s for sarcasm and /j for jokes, make sense. their notation isn't the most intuitive thing ("does /s mean sarcastic or serious?") but it's not too difficult to explain what they mean. I've had to spend my whole life learning by brute force what different tones of voice mean and what they change about how I'm supposed to interpret something, so I already know what "read this in a sarcastic voice" and "read this as a joke" are supposed to mean. my existing skills can be translated into the new form without too much effort.
the same thing applies to emoji and emoticons. I know what facial expressions mean, because I had to learn what they mean. figuring out if :) is sincere or not from context is a skill I've already needed to develop. it doesn't come naturally for me, but it's something I already at least somewhat know how to do.
most of the tone indicators in current use uh. don't work like this.
tone indicators like /ref or /nbh don't correspond to specific tones of voice. I don't have a "I'm making a reference" voice or a "I'm not talking about a person who's here" voice that I can picture the sentence being read in. these do not indicate tones, they're purely disambiguators. they clarify what something means without necessarily changing how it would be read out loud.
and on paper, that's fine, right? like, it's theoretically a good thing to take an otherwise ambiguous statement and add something to it that clarifies what you meant by it. the problem is that these non-tone tone indicators are not even remotely self-explanatory. it's up to me, the person who is being clarified to, to know what all these acronyms are supposed to mean, and how they change the way I'm supposed to interpret what something means.
it's, quite literally, a newly-invented second set of social cues that I'm expected to learn separately from the set that I've already spent my whole life figuring out, and it works completely differently.
sure, these rules are (in principle) less arbitrary than the rules of facial expressions and tones of voice and how long you're supposed to wait before it's your turn to speak, but they're also fully artificial and recently invented, which means they're currently in a constant state of flux. tone indicators go in and out of fashion all the time, and the "comprehensive lists" are never helpful.
in theory, I appreciate the idea of people going out of their way to clarify what they mean by potentially ambiguous things they post online. if it worked, that would be a really nice thing to do.
however, sometimes I imagine what the internet would be like without them. what if instead of using /s, the expectation was that if you're sarcastic online there's no guarantee that strangers reading your post will know what you meant? what if instead of inventing more and more acronyms to cover every possible potentially confusing situation, we just... expected one another to speak less ambiguously in the first place?
so, I on paper like the idea of tone indicators. I think it's good that some people are trying to be considerate by being extra clear about what they mean by things. but if tone indicators didn't exist, and people who wanted to be considerate in this way instead just made a point of phrasing things more clearly to begin with, I think that would be vastly preferable to even the most well-implemented tone indicator system.
also /pos sucks because there's something deeply and profoundly wrong for an abbreviation that means "I don't mean this as an insult, don't worry" to be spelled the same way as an acronym that's an insult
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Sorry to bother you, but the bodyguard post you did was just 🤤🥰😍 and I can't stop thinking about it day later
Have you ever seen Oshi no Ko? I'd love to see Bodyguard react to someone trying to do something similar as what happened to Ai.
Fans get wind their beloved idol might have feeling for her staff, so a crazed fan tracks down her private address. He plans to get revenge for "His idol cheating on him" but doesn't know there is a guard dog inside ready to bite any threat to his precious charge.
Sorry to keep ragging on about the topic, I just adore you work enough that it lives in my head rent free.
Happy holidays
-🌟
I sadly haven't seen Oshi no Ko, but your description sounds very interesting. Thank you for the idea! I've combined it with your previous suggestion, I think they work together really well. Happy Holidays to you, too! :)
Yandere!Bodyguard x Idol!Reader (II)
Your new manager has sent you home for the holidays after persistent rumors surrounding you and your bodyguard. And, as luck would have it, the fan responsible for the accusations successfully sneaks his way in. Sadly for him, you’ve never left the watchful gaze of your loyal, mean dog.
[Part 1] [Part 2] [Part 3]
TW: violence, threats, mentions of stalking
(Cover from the manga “A girl and her guard dog”)
"Enjoy your holidays!"
The driver cheerfully bids you goodbye and speeds away, leaving you behind the imposing gate. You drag your luggage inside and nonchalantly toss it with an annoyed huff.
What now? You're all alone in a hollow mansion.
Early December you begun receiving worrying letters from a fan, making wild claims about you and your bodyguard. Naturally, you laughed it off. Your bodyguard found them equally amusing. So much, that he'd ask you to read them out loud as you rode him. "I w-won't stand for it. You know we ha-ave something special going on, (Y/N)-chan." You barely managed to form coherent sentences, feverishly clinging to the large man underneath you. "You heard the guy. Better be on your best behavior", he'd add with a chuckle, wiping the drool from your mouth.
The new manager, however, wasn't as relaxed about it. He couldn't risk tarnishing the reputation of his beloved cash cow, so he suggested you take a break from personal assistants until the rumors tone down. If you remained within your expensively secured house, you wouldn't need any guarding. So, he caringly prescribed a dose of homely isolation for the upcoming holidays.
"Don't be so dramatic", he said, "Jesus spent 40 days in the desert by himself. And he didn't have your indoor cinema or jacuzzi bathtub."
"Yeah, but he had the Devil to tempt him. Where's my bad guy?" You whined as a retort.
You let out another groan and throw yourself on the couch, fiddling with the remote. Kind of them to decorate everything for Christmas, you think as you eye the gigantic kitsch of a tree slapped in the middle of the living room.
Fuck. What an absolute waste of time. All because of one crazy fan. You almost wish he'd show his stupid face so your bodyguard could pummel it to bits and crumbles. You wonder what he's doing by himself. Is he going to be assigned to another idol? Probably not, two weeks is too short of a time for anything. You check your phone.
Suddenly, the screen lights up. A text notification.
"Bored?"
Heh. It's almost as if he can read your mind. You smile to yourself and type your response, stretching onto the sofa. Your little back and forth messaging goes on until you look up and notice the room has gotten darker. Already evening. You can hear your stomach growl, so you get up and drag your feet towards the kitchen, searching for takeaway fliers. If you're going to be under house arrest, the least you can afford is junk food.
Once you place your decadent order, you hop onto the counter and idly dangle your legs in anticipation. Your favorite off-duty guard dog has abruptly told you he needs to go and is now offline. "Something came up". What could possibly require his immediate attention? A mistress? You giggle at the idea. In all your time spent together, you haven't seen him glance at a single woman. If he must, he will engage with other people using one-word replies, visibly uninterested. You never considered him much of a talker, but his behavior with anyone else, in comparison, is downright hostile.
There's a rustling sound and you jolt. Was the food delivered already? It hasn't been that long. You jump off the marble countertop and freeze in place once you see the man standing in the doorway. His face is concealed with a medical mask and he's audibly panting, the hot air fogging up his glasses. You notice the knife in his hand.
"How rude of you to cheat on me so shamelessly, (Y/N) dear."
Huh? Your eyes widen in realization. Was this the crazed fan bombarding you with threatening letters? Your features twist in utter disgust, still transfixed on the weapon within his grip.
This little shit. Not only does he break into your home, but he decides to intimidate you with a department store kitchen utensil. Is that all you're worth? Is that any way to greet one of the top idols in this country?
You angrily pull the nearby drawer open and grab a long, sharp blade. The man tenses up and steps forward, but you stop him in his tracks, throwing the item at his feet. He stares at you, bewildered.
"It's a Yoshihiro Sashimi knife. More than your monthly income, most likely." You state as you leer down at him, grimace plastered on your face. "Pick it up like the animal you are."
He cannot move. Is this his beloved (Y/N)? Her pretty, innocent smile and sparkling eyes have been replaced by this hateful scowl. He feels like a cockroach about to be stepped on, a mere vermin invading her personal space. This can't be right. It's him that should be upset, he's the betrayed party. When has she gotten so...Ah. This must be the work of that bodyguard. He's always known. The way he looks at her, with a predatory glint as if marking his territory. He should've noticed earlier. Poor, sweet (Y/N), at the hands of a brute. Tears form in his eyes and he opens his mouth to speak up, but a burning blow assaults his back and everything goes black.
Your bodyguard casually walks in and lifts the intruder up by the nape of his neck.
"Are you okay? Did he touch you?"
You blush and wipe your eyelashes dramatically, releasing a gentle sob from your puckered lips.
"Touch? He almost killed me! I was so scared...I thought I was done for."
He frowns at your words.
"I'll take care of it."
You can feel the familiar knot forming in your stomach. As he drags the body out of the kitchen, you follow behind enthusiastically.
"Do it in the living room!" You almost squeal.
"Are you sure? It will get messy. I'm not letting this one walk out." He warns you with a worried expression.
"Yes, yes!" you nod, all bubbly. "Right here, next to the Christmas tree."
Once the gory spectacle is over, the bodyguard sprawls onto the sofa, exhausted. He exhales loudly and runs a hand through his hair. You are about to join him, when a thought crosses your mind.
"Now that I think about it, how did you know I was about to be attacked? That was some really extraordinary timing."
Out of reflex, he palms his pocket to check if his phone is still within his possession. Thankfully he hasn't left it in plain sight. You squint suspiciously.
"Are you spying on me or something?"
He remains quiet for a few moments and eventually lowers his head apologetically, avoiding eye contact.
"Forgive me, Miss."
When he glances up again, your small figure is looming over him.
"Wow, what a pervert you are." You push his chin up with your dainty fingers. "How will you make it up to me for such nasty habit~?"
"Is there anything you want me to do?"
"Good boy."
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Hello everyone! I made an uls masterlist, mostly for my own organization purposes, which may or may not be helpful for others who are searching for uls content on this site. The first part is a directory of gifs that I've made for uls, and the second part includes some of my favorite uls related content created by other wonderfully talented content creators.
part 1: uls gif directory
all gifs x
episode
1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, bts/misc
character/pair
taejoon, wonyoung, hotae, donghee, taejoon x wonyoung, hotae x donghee
part 2: by other content creators
gifs
uls gifs by @aejeonghae (& go read her amazing hodong fic)
uls gifs by @insidethemirror
uls gifs by @loveisactivated
uls gifs by @tachineko
uls gifs by @captnswilson
uls gifs by @how-to-be-a-tree
uls gifs by @hwanginyeop
uls gifs by @gabrielokun
uls gifs by @mushiemadarame
edits
uls edits by @hoppipolla
meta
3 Act Story Structure - Unintentional Love Story by @itsjulesharper
Unintentional Love Story Meta by @heretherebedork
Summer 2023 Ep 1 - Round 1: FIGHT! (57:25~) by @the-conversation-pod
note:
how to watch unintentional love story (if the show isn't offered in your region)
1. set your vpn to the us (or any other region where uls is offered)
2. watch the episodes via the direct links (which can be found here)
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You created a monster in me with underboss!Simon and now you must take responsibility.
Please feed my new addiction with relationship headcanons 😩😩😩. I love him and Shy!reader.
i've created so many monsters y'all gotta stop biting at my ankles or at least start paying rent or smth <3 also i'm still trying to work out a lot of the dynamics of the relationship between them so this is still a little bare boned but i hope you enjoy!
mafia!141 masterlist <3
warnings: mostly fluff :3 simon is a bit of a prick lol, fem!reader,
just in case anyone missed it, this is how underboss!Simon and shy!Reader meet <3
it takes a brutally long time for the two of you to start dating. a brutally long time.
and it isn't for lack of trying on Simon's end. he manages to get your number somehow (i hear Soap is very tech savvy...) and asks you out the week after the dinner at John's house, only for you to decline.
which is fine. he can take rejection. but this is... different. you're too kind when you say no. you're not saying it because you think you're too good for him, you're saying it because of something else, and Simon can tell the difference but can't exactly tell what it is.
it drives him nuts for a long time. you were supposed to be just another number in his phone for a booty call. he's used to getting pretty much anything he wants, after all, but even then it shouldn't have bugged him as much as it did. maybe it was because he liked the way you looked at him. not with disgust. not with some lustful intention. you were... soft. kind, even.
as for you? you think it's crazy how this 6'4", ripped, and kind guy showed interest in you. you, someone too anxious for her own good, someone who said no because it was less scary than committing to something. and you hate yourself for rejecting him.
so in an effort to stay close to him, you text him pretty often. you send him pictures of things you see or run into during your day. something funny at work, a cool rock you found in someone's garden, the spider that decided to make its home in your shower. and sweetheart, you have no idea what you're doing to the poor man ):
this goes on for a long while. just simon being a stupid man, not wanting to push your boundaries after you already rejected him, and you being too anxious to fix things and ask him yourself.
eventually, by some miracle (that i might write more about later because like i said BARE BONES) the two of you get together. and it's... interesting. simon isn't really used to dating. like properly. he's used to buttering a girl up, going back to her place for a quick fuck, and then only seeing her whenever either of them are too bored and horny to function. but with you it's nothing like that at all. there's no sex on the first date, not even a damn kiss, and he finds himself craving you more than ever because of it. wanting to be around you all the time, wanting to hear about your day.
man is fucking obsessed.
he treats you like a princess. he only ever really spent his money on stupid shit but now he can spend it on you! you never ask for anything, but god forbid if you express that anything, be it clothes or otherwise, looks cute because he will buy it for you, no matter how awkward you are at receiving gifts.
also! because he's so big and somewhat brutish, no one fucks with you when you're in public together. annoying kiosk clerks trying to aggressively sell you something? one look from him and they're gone. someone messed up your order but you're too anxious to ask them to fix it? he's advocating for you.
because of him, you find yourself growing less afraid and anxious of things. he teaches you how to be brave, and you teach him how to be soft. there's nothing in the world that he wouldn't do for you <3
oh also btw he's in the mafia. he might have forgotten to mention that... hope that doesn't freak you out or anything. don't worry about the blood on his shirt or the bruises on his face or the cuts on his arms or... oh god you look like you're going to cry. it's nothing, sweetheart! promise! stop trying to take him to the hospital!
also, some sorta unrelated comments: i think shy!reader is def a hostess at a restaurant. i feel like simon would hang out at the restaurant too just to be around you. he'd also slip you a tip, even though you tell him you make hourly and don't depend on tips.
"consider it my way of saying thanks for sitting us at the table with the best view."
the view is you, btw.
AHHH i'm sorry this was such a mess? i have so many jumbled thoughts but i'm glad i was able to get some of them out and i hope they were somewhat enjoyable al;kdjf i'll be working on a short drabble/oneshot for him over the weekend, so i'm hoping that'll make up for this <3
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