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18+ I just know Sylus is low key mean during sex when he's frustrated. Now, I know that sounds redundant, like of course he'd be mean if he's already in a bad mood. But like, not the mean you're probably imagining.
He's condescending.
Heâs holding you down on the bed with his evol so his hands are completely free. Heâs purposely spreading you open nice and wide, exposing you almost embarrassingly. Watching you squirm as he blows on your exposed clit.
âAww, too sensitive? My poor baby.â You want to argue back, you want to squeeze your thighs closed. But something about this feels so good, too good.
âSheâs so pretty all spread like this. Just for me.â Your head tilts back, eyes squeezed shut as heat floods your face. Heâs studying you too intensely, for some reason it feels more intimate than his mouth being on you.
âY-youâre so meanâŠ!â But itâs weak, youâre barely able to take yourself seriously as Sylus chuckles. âOh I know, Iâm so mean. Sitting here complimenting your pretty cuntâŠâ
Weâre slowly returning to our regularly scheduled program yâall⊠I miss my man⊠but I am a hyperfixater at heart so plz bear with me with the Valko content I assure you it should die down once he debuts. Because I really do miss Sylus </3 - Soul
Imagine your lover, Sylus, had to stifle his laugh when he was watching you grimace over expensive price tags at the designer store.
"Why is it over 500 dollars?!" you shrieked, gripping the price tag tightly in your hand; it could almost crumple in your frustration.
Your monthly salary wasn't even close to covering the cost of one item!
Behind you, you heard your lover let out a deep, suppressed giggle. Offended by the mere sound, assuming it was one of mockery or amusement at your expense, you whipped around to shoot him a glare, only to see a fond twinkle in his crimson eyes.
"What's so funny, huh?" you demanded, crossing your arms then sizing up your much taller partner with a scowl.
Oh, how badly Sylus wanted to gobble you up.
He pinched the fat of your cheek affectionately, chuckling softly. "I just find it amusing how worked up you get over mere pocket change," he said, gazing at your preferred attire with a mixture of amusement and adoration. "It's endearing, really."
You gave him a look, now letting go of the price tag. You're fully aware that your lover is a wealthy man, not only dominating a dangerous underground territory but also being in possession of several luxurious properties that fingers are insufficient to count. You loved that quality in him; it gives you security and reassurance that he can provide for you in ways beyond material possessions.
But sometimes it irked you how cocky he is when flaunting his wealth.
You smacked his broad chest with your hand, turning away from him with a huff. "Whatever, I'm leaving," you said, crossing your arms over your chest.
Then a few hours later, after arriving at your shared penthouse, the conclusion of a shopping spree is where you didn't actually buy anything because of your pettiness.
Sylus walked behind you with a smirk on his face, watching you turn the doorknob and walk inside the living room until you stopped in your tracks.
The living room is cluttered with designer boxes and shopping bags, from the couch to the coffee table, evidence that a certain someone had gone overboard with their spending without your knowledge. It's the same designer brand you complained about hours ago, now greeting you with its presence in your home.
Sylus chuckles at your still reaction, his cheeky arms wrapped around your waist, pulling his body closer to yours. He planted a subtle kiss on the top of your head, his smile faintly visible as he whispered, "If you want something," and he leaned closer to your flustered ear. "You don't need to complain when you have a lover who is more than willing to spoil you."
He dragged his lips to your neck, just smoothing over your skin with a teasing touch, as his warm breath makes you tickle. "I was planning to buy the whole mall just for you earlier."
"But a certain kitten was being fussy that I had to cancel those plans."
You are trying so hard not to give in to his sweet words and the temptation he brings with his gentle caresses.
Oh well, even if you try hard to resist, he'll give it to you regardless.
the situation surrounding love and deepspace and valko has reached the state/governmental level in china.
here is what is happening right now:
1. the decision to delete calko was a panic-driven, spontaneous move.
just 3 days ago, infold was planning to keep him. however, haters flooded government regulatory bodies with complaints and even brought manure and funeral wreaths to the office. in a state of pure panic, the studio decided to "sacrifice" the character to save the entire project.
2. the issue has reached beijing.
the game has received an official warning. however, the shanghai municipal government (where the developers are based) is currently desperately defending the studio before beijing. this is because love and deepspace pays massive taxes into the cityâs budget (in 2025 alone, the game generated nearly $380,000,000!). shanghai does not want to lose such a cash cow over internet trolls. everything will be decided in the coming days.
3. the chinese fandom has started a rebellion.
right now, cip players (who have collectively spent over 4 million RMB on the game) are coordinating a late-night siege of weibo's trending topics. tomorrow, they plan to hold a PROTEST with fresh flowers in front of the infold office to prove to the authorities that reasonable, paying players vastly outnumber the haters!
4. infold is in a panic, holding emergency meetings.
summer events are already being canceled or postponed on the japanese account â everything is falling apart because they had no plan b. the official account is losing thousands of followers every minute.
u can also read a chinese player's thoughts on this matter here
if you have even the slightest desire to help, you can do so by following these steps âŒïž
HOW CAN WE HELP RIGHT NOW?
we need to support both the chinese fandom. we must flood official chinese media outlets and customer support with emails stating that the game does NOT violate any laws, that valko is clean, and that his cancellation is purely the result of a harassment campaign by haters
I am writing to express my deep concern over the targeted cyber-harassment campaign against the game "Love and Deepspace" and its character, Valko. As global players, we want to emphasize that "Love and Deepspace" strictly adheres to international standards and corporate compliance. The game does not violate any laws. The recent wave of negative rumors was entirely fabricated by a radical group of anti-fans who used cyber-bullying tactics to force a scandal. By abruptly canceling Valko due to this malicious pressure, the developers have harmed millions of legitimate global consumers who have heavily invested in the game. We respectfully urge the regulatory authorities to recognize that the game is a compliant, legally sound cultural product. We request that the malicious rumors be dismissed, and the character Valko be safely restored to the servers.
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Sylus' favorite part about living together was being able to pamper you to his heart's content. The more you let him do for you, the better.
Sylus' day would begin as yours was winding down. Most days, he woke up when you were in the middle of your shower. The pitter-patter of the water against the tile would pull him out of sleep and he would roll out of bed as you finished up.
In a moment, you would be sitting on the bed with fresh clothes on as you brushed your hair. Meanwhile, Sylus would be knelt on the floor in front of you, rubbing lotion into your legs.
Sylus hoped he could convince you to let him do more. Towel down your body, dress you, dry your hair â he'd do it all if you'd let him. If it were up to him, you wouldn't have to lift a finger once you came home. But of course, that wasn't your style.
Still, this was a nice consolation for him. And anyways, he already spent a good amount of time trying to get to this point. He won't press his luck for now. His focus at the moment was making sure to be employee of the month while on lotion duty. After another few months of consistently high marks, he could perhaps hint at a promotion.
cw: mdni, smut, piv, many liberties taken and likely inaccuracies about the female praying mantis (1.7k)
Simon first saw you at a handover briefing, half the base packed into a room that smelled like instant coffee and damp boots, and you were three seats down with your chin propped on one hand, listening. That was all. But heâs spent his entire adult life reading rooms for the thing that's wrong, and his eye snagged on you and would not come loose, and he couldn't for the life of him say why. Big eyes. Too big, maybe, though he didn't let himself ruminate on it. Arms a touch too long where they folded on the table, the line of them not adding up quite right against the rest of you.Â
He did not look away like he shouldâve. A normal man sees a pretty stranger and has the decency to glance off; Simonâs known for quite some time he was not a normal man â and he fixed on you through the whole briefing⊠and out into the corridor⊠and across the next nine days, with the forbearing, unblinking attention of a lion in tall grass. He learned your shift pattern before he learned your name. He could have told you, by the end of that first week, the exact rhythm of your walk from sound alone. He knew which mug was yours, and what the base note of your perfume was: myrrh.
He didnât find any of this strange â Simon's baseline is strange. The wanting came in effortless and stupid, the way it does for everyone else in the world â he simply routed it through the only instincts he's got, which are a predator's.
It was Soap who ruined him.
Soap caught him at it in the mess â Simon parked against the far wall with a coffee going cold in his fist, focused on watching you eat. Soap followed the line of his stare, found you at the end of it, and grinned like the cheshire cat. "Oh, her," he said, delighted. "Aye, she's one of the hybrids. Mantis." He said it the way you'd mention someone supported the wrong football team. Then, because Soap cannot leave fuck-all alone, he leaned in and cheerfully added, "You'll want to be careful there, big man. Mantis females, ehhâ they eat the fella after. During, sometimes. Bite the head clean off and finish the job. Read it somewhere once." He clapped Simon on the shoulder. "Best of luck."
And then he left. Wandered off to find some grub, whistling.
Simon stood very still against the wall, then. Felt the information go into him like a splinter you can't find to pull.
Bite the head clean off?
He looked back at you across the room â you'd tilted your head to listen to the person beside you, smooth and too far round, big dark eyes catching the strip-lights â and the want did not go anywhere, that was the horror of it, the want stayed exactly where it was and the new knowledge simply moved in alongside it and started rearranging some things.
He wanted you.
And being Simon, he did not do the sensible thing and walk away. He did the research.
The thing about dating Simon, you would learn, is that you have never in your life been so well fed.
You understood it maybe six weeks in, when you opened his fridge expecting the usual bachelor wasteland and found it stocked like he was provisioning for a siege. Yogurt. Three kinds of cheese. A bowl of cut fruit under cling film. A tin labeled âFROG LEGSâ.
It was risk management dressed up as romance, which in fairness is mostly what romance is⊠Isnât it?
He'd taken Soap's splinter and built a guideline out of it. He knows â he has read, in studies he will deny owning â that the trouble starts when you're hungry. Or stressed. Or both, which is the cocktail that turns a nice evening into something a coroner writes up.
He has constructed an entire relationship on the single principle of never ever letting you get to that point.
You'll be reaching for him on the sofa, hand sliding up under his shirt, mouth at the hot pulse in his throat, and he'll go rigid and say, in that flat rumble of his, "When dâyou last eat?"
"Simon," you sigh,
"Thaâ sânot an answer, love."
"I'm not hungryâ,"
"I saw you skipped lunch."
He watches a lot. He watches you eat with open, naked satisfaction, the way other men watch football, and the first time you caught him at it you'd put your fork down and said âdid you want some?â and he'd said âno, you have it,â and meant it with his whole strange heart.
The man can produce a plate of food out of thin air, and there's no point arguing, because he'll simply outlast you, planted there immovable as a boulder until you've eaten enough that his shoulders come down from around his ears.
He's never once said the word out loud. Cannibalism. He skirts it like a tripwire. Early on you'd tilted your head at him a degree too sharp while he was shaving â honestly just affection â and caught his eye in the mirror, and he'd nicked his own jaw and not flinched at the blood at all, only at you. Razor frozen halfway up his neck. The muscle in his cheek jumped and his pupils shrank to pinpricks and you'd thought: Oh. He's frightened. Big, terrible Ghost, who garrotes men in their sleep, scared witless by the tilt of your head.Â
You felt bad for almost a full minute.
You have, in fairness, never confirmed or denied a thing. When he goes still and careful you let him. It's the most romantic thing anyone's ever done for you, this grim devout terror, and you're not about to spoil it with reassurance.
Soap, for the record, has really no idea what he started. He'll see the two of you in the canteen, Simon angling the better-fed plate toward you and think, good lad, taking my advice.
Simon had you down â the eyes that hold on him no matter where he moves, that dark point in each one that stays, tracking, while the rest of your face goes soft and human; the too-far head-turn; the way your hands fold up against your chest when you go truly still, wrists tucked, prayer-shaped.
He did not account for the wings.
You hadn't told him because you genuinely forget they're there â folded flat along your spine, a faint seam under the skin, a sheen across your shoulder blades he'd assumed was an old scar. You can't really fly. You never thought to mention them. Plus, it seemed like he knew plenty.
But now he's got you under him with your shirt long gone and his mouth working at the junction of your neck and collar, and there's none of the careful bracing tonight â he fed you an hour ago, he made sure, he watched you finish â and now there's just his weight and his hands and the husky sounds he makes against your skin. One big palm splays flat on your stomach and slides lower, fingers finding you already slick, stroking slow over your clit until your hips chase it on their own. "So soft, love," he murmurs, like he's not shaking. He gets two fingers inside you, curls them, and your whole spine bows off the mattress.
That's when they snap open.
In the dark it's monstrous; a sudden unfolding of something unknown and far too wide for the room, fanning from your back in a wash of color he can't quite name in the half-light. A deep iridescent purple shot through with flares of red, eyespots blooming towards the tips. One instant flat girl, the next a thing twice your size.
Simon goes to stone, shuts down, every system offline. This is it, he thinks â this is the bit where she takes the head. His fingers still inside you. He holds his breath, bracing.
You make a small strangled noise and pull them back down.
They fold away almost as fast as they came, gone into brackets around your spine, and you throw an arm over your face and refuse to look at him. Your ears are hot. He can feel it where his jaw rests on your cheek.
"Sorry," you whisper. "That justâ happens sometimes. Itâ it doesn't mean anything bad, I swear⊠just⊠you⊠just feels good, is all.â
The single most dangerous woman he's ever shared a bed with has flashed her startle display because he got two fingers knuckle deep inside of her, and now she's mortified, hiding her face like a kid. Four months of Soap's splinter works its way loose, pushing out of his muscle, and falls out somewhere in the dark, and Simon â who has never in his life felt safe and certainly never expected to find it here, of all the deranged places â starts to come softly apart with relief. He pulls himself back to look at you.
"Leâme see you," he says, and peels your arm off your face, and when you do his eyes are doing something you've never seen on him: wet at the edges, wide open, not afraid of you at all.Â
Worse than not afraid. Pleased with himself.
He leans back down and kisses you hard, pushing his fingers deeper and says it against your mouth because heâs got nothing left to lose: "Do it again. Want to watch."
So you do.Â
And Simon fucks you slow and then not slow at all, and every time he tips you over they snap wide behind you and fill the room with color, and by the third time he's stopped flinching and started hunting it, smug, learning the exact angle that does it. When he finally comes it's with his forehead pressed to yours and your wings open around the both of you like something out of a church window, and he's saying something into your jaw, rough and ruined, that takes you a second to parse as all mine, there she is, there's my good girl.
Afterward you bite him. Just a little on the shoulder, just to be a menace, licking the taste of iron from your canine.Â
He doesn't even twitch. "Knew it," he says into your hair, wrecked and grinning where you can't see. "Tellinâ Soap he was right."
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Hii! Do you know about that one trend where "asking my partner permition to eat" in public or with their parents, now imagine reader doing this to bakugo infront of mitsuki
She would beat up his ass LMAO
ââ ⶠbefore you read: 1k words ; fem reader ; established relationship ; mitsuki and masaru are good parents ; katsuki has an aneurysm (almost) ; masterlist.
ê° commentary ê± â¶ ANON YOU ARE TOO FUNNY FOR THIS ASK LMAOOO
âKats, am I allowed to order a drink, too?â You whisper. âThis one seems good. Itâs okay if I canât, though.â
Katsuki stiffens, turning to you in disbelief. The waitress pauses. Mitsuki raises a brow. Masaru looks up from the menu in concern.
âWhat the fuck do you mean allowedâwhatâŠwhat are you talkinâ about?â
âAm I allowed to get it?â You ask, like itâs a simple question. You give him a confused look before you add, âI donât want to order too much and then upset you.â
The waitress gives him a look from the corner of her eyes. Itâs a nasty look if youâve ever seen one, and coupled by Mitsukiâs eyes narrowing at her son, you have to fight every bone in your body not to laugh.
âDid your head get knocked loose?â He does a double take. âWhy the fuck would I be upset? YouâŠokay, you know what,â he turns to the waitress, already having enough of your antics, and says, âadd a large drink to that, please.â
âA large drink, got it,â she nods slowly, jotting it down. âHow generous of you.â
You bite your lip when he stares after her incredulously as she walks away. And as soon as the waitress is gone, he has another problem just waiting.
You start, âThanks for letting me get a drink todayââ
âAnd just what do you mean let?!â Mitsuki cuts in, staring between you and her son.
You blink at her with your best innocent look. (One good thing about making it your lifelong hobby to get under Katsukiâs skin is that youâve learned youâre very good at the innocent look. Exceedingly good.)
âWell, I mean, I know how he feels about me ordering things, so I just wanted to check that it was okayââ
âHah!? What the fuck are you talkinâ about?â Katsuki stares. âHow do I feel about you ordering things?â
You shrug sheepishly, feigning, to your credit, a very convincingly nervous look. âI just didnât want to upset you.â
The look on Masaruâs face twists immediately to heartbreakâlike he canât believe his son would turn out this way. Meanwhile, Mitsukiâs eyes narrow into dangerous slits. Katsuki waves a hand gesturing at you in shock as if to ask, are you seeing this? as he stares at his parents helplessly.
âSheâs messinâ around, I swear, she always does thisââ
âYou know,â Masaru says carefully, eyeing his son in disappointment, âsometimes people donât realize theyâre behaving a certain way until there are signs. But we have to look at the signs for what they are, son.â
âDadââ
âNo, let me finish.â Masaru holds up a hand. âYouâre supposed to be equals in a relationship. If sheâs worried about upsetting you over something as simple as ordering a drink, maybe you should ask yourself why she feels that way.â
âBecause sheâs insane!â
âKatsuki!â Mitsuki hisses, pointing a finger at him as she says, âdonât call her that! The only reason for that is because youâre driving her crazyâlook at her! The poor thing! Sheâs shaking over there, and itâs because of you!â
âSheâs not shakinâ for shit! Lookâlook at her! Sheâs fighting back a fuckinâ smug little look on her face because sheâsââ
Mitsuki suddenly reaches across the table and catches him by the ear. âWhat have I told you about making girls feel respected, huh? This is why theyâve never liked you! And now one finally does and youâre scaring her off?â
âOwâyou fucking hag!â
She gives his ear a sharp tug. âLanguage.â
âOw! Let go, you oldââ
You look up innocently, âPlease donât scold him, heâll be in a bad mood when we get home.â
Mitsuki yanks his ear harder at that, steam practically pouring from her own ears, and Masaru holds a hand to his chin in deep, concerned thought.
âJust what happens at home when itâs just the two of you, huh? Why is she scared about whatâll happen when youâre home?!â
âNothing! Literally fuckinâ nothing, she terrorizes me at home, if anything! Look with your eyes, you old hag!â
Finally taking mercy on him, you chuckle, reaching over to ruffle Katsukiâs hair. He gives you a nasty side glare, but it softens just a smidge when you lean into his side and kiss his cheek.
âI was only kidding,â you beam at Mitsuki, âI just wanted to make him sweat a bit.â
She looks at you with a cautious gaze, her fingers still tightly wrapped around Katsukiâs poor (and red) earlobe as she asks, âAre you sure youâre not just protecting him?â
âOh donât worry,â you hum, patting your boyfriendâs chest as he shakes his head in irritation, âyouâd be the first to know if he acts even the slightest bit out of line.â
âI never get a chance to be out of line, cause youâre the bossiestââ
Just then, the waitress arrives with your drinks. She sets yours down first. âHere you go, honey.â Then she places Katsukiâs down. The sour look she gives him could practically curdle milk. âSir.â
Katsuki stares after her as she walks off, and you giggle as you pinch his cheek affectionately. âWe should come back here next week, huh baby?â
âYeah, if my face isnât on a wanted poster at the door,â he grumbles under his breath.
You reach over with a cheeky grin, grabbing his drink and taking a sip before taking another from your own glass. After a moment of contemplating, you hum, âI like your drink better. Iâm taking it. Hereââ you slide him yours as you pull his own glass to your side of the table. âYou take that one.â
He turns to his mother and waves a hand. âSee?! She terrorizes me!â
âIâm not seeing a problem,â she says, giving him a less than impressed look. âAll Iâm seeing is a poor girl finally realizing her worth after dealing with your nonsense.â
He slumps into his seat, giving up, and you lean your head onto his shoulder, beaming up at him victoriously as he gives you a tired look. (And, much to your pride, you know are getting very, exceedingly good at getting under Katsukiâs skinâitâs a hobby youâre quite talented at.)
18+ mdni | caleb always knows how to make u feel better after a bad day
TW. making out
caleb knew it had been one of those days the second you walked through the door, tired eyes and heavy limbs apparent as you toed off your shoes. usually you jumped into his arms within the first few seconds of seeing him, pouting and saying how much you missed his âpretty faceâ. today though, he only got a tight-lipped smile as you trudged towards the couch, falling against it with a groan.
he followed you into the living room, squatting before you and cocking his head to the side. âhow was your day, angel?â
your throat bobbed a few times before you found your words, a shaky âgoodâ leaving your lips just as your eyes began to well with tears, caleb standing to his full height once he noticed you break. âmy sweet girlâŠâ he whispered, scooping you into his arms before sitting on the couch himself, cradling you. you shoved your face against his chest as you sobbed into his shirt, wet stains of your tears marking it when you raised your head.
âthat bad?â he questioned, humming once you nodded. he felt terrible saying it, but you looked so cute. all your expressions were so animated, your face resembling the deep frown emoji. of course he felt awful knowing you were crying, but he couldnât help himselfâeverything you did had him absolutely whipped for you.
âiâm sorry, princess. i shouldâve been there for you.â he muttered, watching as you shook your head at the comment, adjusting the way you sat to comfortably perch on one thigh. ân-nothing you could doâ you hiccupped, voice still catching on tears. caleb brought a hand to your face, thumb swiping away your tears before pressing a kiss to your forehead, each eyelid, then finally your lips.
âstillâ, he spoke, voice breathy while pecking your lips. âcan you forgive gege?â
you felt his hot breath against your skin, nodding with your forehead leaning on his. he mumbled a âthank youâ against your cheek, pressing feather light kisses along your jawline. âsometimes itâs helpful to distract yourselfâŠdo you wanna try?â
your cheeks flushed at his question, shyly saying yes as caleb pulled you closer to him. he smiled sweetly before continuing to trail his lips along your skin, the soft sensation making you shiver. he hovered above your pulse point, licking the skin before nipping at it, heart swelling at the yelp that left your throat. your hands fisted his t-shirt, whimpering while he rested his lips at your jugular, counting your heartbeat with every thump.
finally, he moved his head to let his nose bump against yours, chuckling when you tried to initiate a real kiss. after teasing you for a few more seconds, he pressed his mouth against yours, taking advantage of your surprise and letting his tongue explore you.
you two had been together for so long now that caleb already knew all your spots, all the places that you were especially sensitive. he memorized which kisses left you breathless and which ones had you chasing after him, but even after all this time, caleb never got sick of your reactions. the way youâd gasp when heâd suck on your tongue or how you unintentionally bucked against him when heâd groan into a kiss.
you wrapped your arms around his neck, fingers playing with the hair at the nape of his neck, the two of you moving in perfect rhythm with each kiss. before he let himself get any more carried away, caleb slowly withdrew himself from you, watching how your chest heaved while your dilated pupils stared at his lips.
âhow was thatâ he questioned, his voice now raspy. you bit your lip as he nervously shifted below your intense gaze, pretending to think deeply before moving forward and letting your lips lightly rest against his.
âthink i need more before i can make a real judgementâ
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