#unedited don't judge

[chock-and-bates]

Cant wait to read your medieval au and imagine charles wearing a slutty damsel dress, lying on a bear fur waiting to be ravished <3

bear fur, you say? are you, like, psychic???

in honor of this prophetic ask, here is a very long snippet from my dark medieval au, roar of the fire.

(tw: blood, #43 fans beware!, and some mild chussy spice 🌶️)

His husband had dragged his chairs close as soon as they had sat down, wrapping a possessive arm around his shoulders and tucking Charles into his side, where he had stayed throughout the feast, with Max occasionally trying to hand feed Charles food and snickering when he would snap at him.

They were still pressed together now, observing the barely contained mayhem in the Grand Hall. Charles watched as Lando made a fool of himself, shamelessly flirting with Sir Ricciardo, Carlos, and the physician's apprentice, Oscar. He spun around on the dance floor, throwing his arms around whichever man was closest, and laughing maniacally at whatever they said.

Charles scowled at the scene, ashamed that such a fool was his lord-in-waiting. It made him grateful that Max was not one for dancing, for Charles had no desire to be in close proximity with the little strumpet tonight.

Of course his present situation was not much better. Since the dancing had started, Max was honestly more preoccupied with Charles than with watching his own court. He kept plying him with more wine, humiliatingly lifting his goblet to Charles’ lips for him to sip from as he whispered filthy promises to him, occasionally allowing his hand to wander no matter how many times Charles tried to push it away.

“I like the gown,” Max murmured to him, his finger running along the low neckline of the blood red dress Charles had been forced into. He brushed the tip of his finger against Charles’ skin, “You look very pretty.”

Pursing his lip, Charles threw him a withering look, “I look ridiculous. Apparently Lord Perez did not think my usual robes were fitting for a feast.”

Chuckling, Max just leaned closer to rest his forehead against Charles temple, his arm still tight around his shoulder so he couldn’t shrug him off, “My poor little queen. Maybe it will cheer you to know that I do not intend for you to be wearing it for much longer.”

Heat crept up his neck at the words and he uselessly tried to squirm away, “I told you, this is not a conversation befitting for a feast, you brute.”

Max didn’t let him budge an inch, instead whispering hotly against his ear, “Did you see the massive bear rug one of the diplomats gifted us? I’ve already ordered it to be taken to our chambers and laid out in front of the fire. I’m going to take you on that rug tonight, wife. Going to rip off this dress and-”

“Your grace,” Lord Horner’s voice interrupted Max’s filthy words, “May I present to you, Lord Colapinto.”

With an irritated huff, the King pulls away to see the guest. Flustered, Charles also glances up at the intrusion.

Lord Colapinto turns out to be one of the foreign diplomats, a young man, with a charming face, and a misplaced, confident sparkle in his eyes from far too many drinks. He gives a low, drunken bow to Max and begins to extol the incredible feast-

Charles tunes out of the conversation quickly, he has no desire to listen to more diplomats lather his husband in praise and flattery, as if that will spare their lands if Max sets his sights on them.

Until he realizes Colapinto’s eyes have begun to rest on him.

“I, of course, offer my congratulations on your recent nuptials,” Colapinto practically purrs as he stares at Charles, “Your bride is most lovely.”

Everyone at the great table stiffens, Charles included.

“Your grace, you do not dance,” Colapinto looks back at Max, the drunken haze in his eyes even more obvious after his words. Who could have let this poor man stumble up here in such a state?

Max does not answer the question. He’s gone very still, his gaze sharp and focused, a predator observing his prey.

“King Max does not dance,” Lord Horner answers instead, an icy warning underlying the statement.

One that, unfortunately, Colapinto does not heed.

“Ah, a true shame. If I may,” Colapinto stumbles closer, “I would offer to take the Queen for a dance, if it pleases your grace.” He extends a hand towards Charles, “Your beautiful bride deserves to be shown off to the court-”

Max stands abruptly. In what feels like the blink of an eye he has unsheathed the knife from his belt…and stabbed it straight through Colapinto’s wrist and into the table.

The lord shrieks in agony, writhing in shock and pain as his blood spreads out from where he’s pinned. Exclamations of surprise and disgust erupt from those near, causing the music to stop and the rest of the guests to crane their necks to see the bloody spectacle.

Charles does not look away from the grisly sight, clenching his jaw and staring at the foolish lord as he screams and squirms.

“It does not please me,” Max sneers as he answers the lord’s witless question. 

With icy eyes he looks out at the rest of the crowd, everyone falling silent and fearful under his stare.

“Come, we’re retiring,” he says to Charles, taking his hand and pulling him to his feet. 

Everyone bows to them on their way out, but Charles barely notices, Calopinto’s shrieks still ringing in his ears.

Moments later, despite the violent scene, Charles still finds himself laid out on that bear rug. The fur is pleasantly warm from the heat of the fire against his bare skin, that cursed dress laying in tatters near the door. Max is also naked, laying half on top of him, sucking and biting dark, possessive marks into his neck as his hand works at Charles between his legs.

“Did you want to dance with him, schatje,” Max asks him, the words whispered against his throat.

Biting his lip, Charles tries desperately to hold in the wanton mewls that Max keeps pulling out of him, his thumb relentlessly circling the sensitive bud at the top of his sex, while his cunt keeps clenching around the two fingers Max has buried inside him. He keeps remembering how it’s the same hand that had just wielded his knife.

Still, his question makes Charles scowl, and he hopes Max can hear it in his voice when he answers. “No. As if I would ever want to dance with a drunken idiot.”

He can feel Max’s smile against his neck, sharp and violent.

[miedei]

heyoo🫶 idk if your spencer requests are still open but all I've been able to think about for weeks is s4ep9 spencer being the most adorable nerd when he was warning the women at the club about the serial and them being the reader's friends going back to the reader with like drinks or whatever laughing about "that nerdy loser" at which reader's practically frothing at the mouth asking them "WHERE" and then hardcore flirting with an oblivious (and/or blushing mess) spence to the team's amusement and reader just thinking "need me a pathetic loser like that" (affectionate). im not even sure this makes sense but i just go feral for nerd reid. im really looking forward to reading this and thank you in advance if you do write this🥰

REAL REAL REAL need me a pathetic loser boy

peacocking

spencer gets hit on at the club!!

cw: none i think?? spence is cute and pathetic, r is the kind of flirty i only aspire to be

wc: 1.2k

mlist

(reblogs are the only way to promote fics on tumblr! please reblog if you enjoyed it :) )

The club is busy, lighting dim, the music so loud that you can feel the bass thumping in your chest. It's a stark difference from the brightly-lit bathroom you just emerged from, wearing three new products of makeup courtesy of the drunken friends you've just made.

The crowd is thick, and you can just barely spot your friends, huddled around a hard-won table. You push through people, not bothering to apologise, until you've returned to the group.

You're greeted with whoops and cheers, and a drink is pushed into your hand before you can even sit down. Alcohol-fueled shouts leave their mouths, and you get the distinct feeling that they've somehow had at least two more rounds in the time you've been gone. You can barely focus on one person's speech, the words overlapping in their excitement.

"-and he was, like, the hottest guy I've ever seen!"

"-but he wouldn't take my number because he was working, and-"

"-his friend was pretty awkward though-"

"-like a string bean! Nerdy as hell, think it was his first time in a club-"

"-was like he'd never spoken to a woman before, kept talking about the serial killer-"

You hold up a hand, a little bewildered at the bombardment of information.

"Hold on- serial killer?" One of your friends shakes her head a little, as if clearing her mind.

"Not here, at least they pretty sure. Some creep's been picking up women and killing them at clubs, so there were cops or something here giving out fliers." A flier is thrusted into your hand, a sketch of a guy looking up at you.

"And, one of the cop guys was gorgeous! Adonis, Casanova, whatever the fuck you'd call him, he was so pretty..." She sighs wistfully, pointing across the room to a gaggle of women surrounding a well-built guy holding fliers like the one in your hand.

"The other guy was a little sad, though. Real nerd type."

Another voice butts in. "Yeah! I mean, look at him, I feel a little bad for him, he's clearly striking out and he's here for his job."

The pointing finger shifts, and your attention is directed to a lanky guy standing towards the edges of the crowd, near the bar. He looks nervous, hands fiddling with the stack of fliers he's got, and he doesn't seem to be trying to approach anyone anymore.

He's clearly uncomfortable, skittish in his stance. A nerd to his core, probably never the type to be wading through a crowd like this. He looks a little pathetic.

You've got to have him.

You tell your friends as much, and are met with drunken encouragement, slaps on the back and reminders to use protection. Setting down the flyer and your drink, you steel yourself, smoothing back your hair before walking with purpose across the room.

Once you near him, you slide onto a barstool, flagging down the bartender and pretending not to notice the new love of your life. He's clearly clocked you, and seems to be trying to work up the courage to approach you. Once you've given your order, you decide to make it easier for him.

Turning on the stool, you look up at him, eyes slightly hooded.

"You not having fun? It's a club, you should probably unbutton that shirt a little." It's thrilling, the way his eyes widen and he looks around him, as if you could be speaking to anyone else right now.

"Well, I actually- I'm actually here for my work, so..." His cheeks flush, and you continue with the oblivious act.

"Work? I've got to say, you're gorgeous, but I didn't think you were the type to be hired as a waiter here." You gesture to the scantily-clad waitress that passes you. He opens and closes his mouth a couple times, before seemingly remembering something. He rifles through his leather bag, producing a wallet with ID.

"Um, no, I don't work here. I'm- I'm an FBI agent. Doctor Spencer Reid. H-hi." Cute and smart? It's a wonder you haven't slid right off your stool.

"Yeah? And what are you doing here, Doctor Reid? Don't get me wrong, I appreciate being able to ogle you, but this doesn't exactly seem like the place for the FBI to be doing their investigating." You nod your thanks at the bartender, and run your finger along the rim of your glass, eyes locked onto Spencer's.

"Oh! Yeah," He fumbles with the papers in his hand, before holding one out to you. "There's a, um, serial killer? He's in the area, and he's targeting women at clubs like these... so," You lean forward, eyes not wavering from his, relishing in the way Spencer's eyes widen at the motion.

"So?" You prompt.

"So, uh, we're handing out those sketches," His hand, trembling slightly, comes up to point at the flyer in your hand. "and warning women to be on the lookout, not go home with anyone they don't know."

Your lips pinch slightly together, exaggerating your concern. "Oh god, Doctor Reid, that's really scary. What can I do to keep safe?"

His shoulders drop from where they were tensed near his ear, seemingly in his comfort zone here.

"Well, the unsub- the suspect is seeking validation from people, he wants women to chase him. If you meet any guys who try and play hard to get, possibly dressed flaboyantly, stay away and tell the police." You tilt your head questioningly, prompting him to continue.

"He's peacocking. It's a method that some people use to draw attention away from their faces. By using some ornate and distracting piece of clothing, he's diverting attention away from his face." His hands fly around him wildly as he speaks, long fingers wriggling and punctuating his words.

"Uh huh? So this... sweater." Your hand comes up, nearly unconsiously, to fiddle with the woolen texture of the sweater he's got on over his shirt. His hands still midair.

"It's distracting me plenty. Is that peacocking? But I've gotta say, I don't think anything would draw my attention away from that face." His eyes widen further, lips quivering as if he's struggling to come up with words.

"Um, I- I don't think, this isn't- isn't peacocking. This is just... how I dress." Your smirk widens further, hand still twisted in the collar of his sweater. The other agent, the one your friends pointed out earlier, sidles up behind him, but pauses, observing your conversation without butting in. You've only got a little time left.

"Well, I guess you're just that captivating then. You got a pen?" You let go of his clothes, watching him flounder for a second before pulling a pen out of his pocket, holding it out to you wordlessly.

Taking it with a smile, you begin to scribble your number down on the corner of the flyer in your hand.

"I think I'm missing out, if you dress like this every day." You finish writing with a flourish, tearing out your number and tucking it in his pocket along with his pen.

"Call me, okay? Keep me safe from the killer." You pat his shoulder, brushing past him with a smile.

(If the music were any quieter, you would've heard Spencer being interrogated by Derek the moment you leave, and the subsequent call to the rest of the team to inform them of the news. Penelope falls off her chair in excitement.)

[saintediaz]

Because-I-Can Tuesday

100% unprompted by anyone but absolutely due to the ostark photoshoot that got released today...have a sample from my 90s cowboy Buddie AU 🤠 also @canondiaz you inspired me to post this w your post earlier so MWAH

“What’s your problem, man?” He settles on man, even though asshole is the word at the forefront of his mind. “You. You’re my problem.” Buck only takes a moment to breathe, then presses on. “You show up here and act like you’re better than everyone else. It’s not right.” Eddie shrugs. “I don’t think I’m better than anyone else. I just know what I’m doing. Nothin’ else to it.” “Well you act like you know everything. You're too comfortable." Buck sighs audibly. "I’m a cowboy too, you know?”  If Eddie’d been looking, he’s sure Buck’s chest would be puffed up. But he isn't looking. His gaze is locked on the mare and every minute twitch of her flank muscles as she trots back and forth across the ring. “Sure.” It’s the only response Eddie offers and the corners of his mouth are curved upwards with the shit-eating grin he wears. Buck steps to his side. His warm sweaty heat immediately overwhelms Eddie’s senses, pervasive even with the sun beating high overhead. There’s a heady musk wafting from Buck, a not unpleasant scent that Eddie wants to inhale deep. He doesn’t dwell on why, rather he flexes his fingers against the hot metal fencing to feel the stinging heat. He grinds his teeth together just to hear the click of his jaw. “I am. I ride.” Buck’s tone is insistent, near to pleading. Finally, Eddie turns his head. His eyebrow is raised as he appraises Buck. His white t-shirt is sweat- and dirt-stained; the red cursive text reads Jackson Hole. The trucker cap on his head is backwards and doing little to collect the beads of sweat gathering on his forehead. Eddie swipes his tongue across his bottom lip, suddenly thirsty. He shakes his head and turns his attention back to the mare. “You’re a bronc rider. Not all bronc riders are cowboys.” Buck’s spluttering hits Eddie’s cheek as a puff of air. He’s offended. Eddie laughs. Good.  “Listen: bein’ a cowboy is more than just riding.” He rubs his palms together, feels the scrape of his calluses. He remembers the first one he ever earned as a child, riding alongside his father on a pony two hands too tall for him. You’re no man if you’ve got soft hands. “If you haven’t figured that out by now, I’m not sure you ever will.”

also if anyone else wants to play along and share WIPs pls do :)

[verifiablebot]

Hey, so I'm collecting people's thoughts on this, and since it isn't explored in canon a lot..

Why do you think exactly Pete fell for Vegas and Vegas fell for Pete? (except the slight stockholm syndrome and insanity, why do you think they fell for each other?)

so i was going to keep this brief and i ended up writing a whole ass mini-fic because god do i have Thoughts and Feelings but it boils down to this:

maybe sometimes when you’re empty you seek out any feeling at all even if it’s pain.  And maybe when you’re angry you seek out something to hurt until it surrenders to you.  And maybe sometimes you both get your claws into each other and can’t let go.  because there’s that poem, you know, sometimes suffering can feel like religion, and when you find someone who loves to hurt as much as you love to be hurt…obsession grows insidious and deep.  It’s not love, it’s a trauma bond, but it’s there and they’re going to be stuck in it until the oroboros eats itself alive.

[verbenaa]

wip wednesday~

thank you to my talented and amazing @elinorbard for tagging me!! I am actually on time this week (shocking, I know.) I am still working on chapter 8 of to eden, which has managed to grow to 10k and I'm still going 😅 sorry about that haha. hopefully it shall be completed soon! here's a little something I was working on last night in the meantime 🤭

Ask me to stay.  The words come from a deep, dark part of her mind unbidden; but the wanting they bring with them threatens to ruin her. “Well, it’s been lovely. You’re always such a treat.” Astarion summons a veil across his eyes, an empty smirk on his lips as he sits up beside her. “You should get some sleep, darling. Who knows who you will need to convince to kill themselves tomorrow?” It’s like a slap to the cheek—cold water to wake her from the hazy warmth of a dream.  “Oh.” She bites her lip, hoping she hides her disappointment well enough; but from the way Astarion averts his gaze to focus on an invisible point on other side of the tent, she doesn’t need to worry much. “I suppose you need your beauty sleep, then? Far be it from me to get in the way.” Rin doesn’t want to hear his answer, she decides, as she makes to sit beside him and the blanket that had so briefly covered them both falls to their laps. She’s not quite certain she can bear look at him either, not at the cool and aloof expression that seems to have taken residence across his features.  He hadn’t looked like that when he kissed her. 

tagging @khywren @inkymoonbunny @ladyduellist @xxnashiraxx @preciouslittlebhaalbae @roguishcat to post something if you all feel like it! no pressure 💖🌷 and apologies if any of you have already been tagged as well!

[hergrandplan]

Little snippet from the next chapter of Suburban Legends

(because this scene has been living in my head for too long and I'm excited I can at least partially share it now)

Simon’s phone buzzed in his pocket and he scrambled to get it. His elbow accidentally hit the glass of lemonade, causing it to fall down on the table with a soft thud, the contents spilling all over the table - and down Simon’s shirt.

“Shit!”

Simon looked down, dumbfounded. His no-longer white shirt was soaked through. It clung to his stomach, and Wille could see the brown, smooth skin beneath the fabric.

Wille forced himself to keep his eyes trained on Simon’s face. He couldn’t think about how his t-shirt now hugged his waist, or how, in some other universe, he might have made a stupid joke that Simon might as well take his shirt off, as nothing was left to the imagination anymore. Or how he might have taken him to the bathroom to rip his clothes off himself - 

Bathroom. The bathroom might be a good idea anyhow. 

[hekateinhell]

Lestat pov ddg and knifeplay pt 2 please!!! <3

Anything for you! 🥹

Here's what I have for knifeplay pt 2 (this is pt 1):

Never, in all his years, has Armand ever seen another immortal in such a delirious state of ecstasy that was not induced through the swoon as Lestat is now.

He listens, taking great care to maintain a separation of his senses. Drags his finger over the concave beneath Lestat’s eye—the same one that had been taken from him and then restored—gathering up the fluid there and licking it off his fingertip. Permitting himself a single suck to ensure no residue was left behind. 

Of course Lestat’s tears would taste as sweet as the rest of him.

Fascinating as ever to bear witness to emotions and sensations taking form in the minds of others, especially one Armand loved and valued such as him.

The echo of their willing victim’s shallow breaths swirl in the air to meld with the wet sounds of Louis slicing into Lestat’s immaculate flesh with the loving precision that a butcher bestows on his most prized cut of meat fit for a royal feast. Lestat’s thoughts had become less pronounced until they lost shape entirely, falling apart some time ago like a poorly constructed dress on a mannequin, tattered scraps held together by nothing but rusted pins and hope. Distorted without word or sound, mindless flashes of color and static, the useless dreams of a beast who does not realize it can dream. His grey eyes fixed open, glassy but bright, tinted with a reddish film reminiscent of something violently killed until enough tears have amassed that they spill over, permitting the cleansing cycle to start anew.

“You do so well, Lestat, so beautiful,” Armand murmurs praise into his ear, caressing the spot where his hairline meets his temple, the blood sweat staining the white-blond baby hairs. It is for Louis’s benefit that he speaks at all, seeing as Lestat is well past hearing either of them through any means.

For now Armand is content to speculate and facilitate, dipping his hands in and out of each wound to coat his fingers a warm and sticky crimson, the liquid seeping underneath his nails, greedy and wretched as a gluttonous child left unattended in a candy shop.

----

I hope to have it finished sometime this summer! ♥️ I'll slide Lestat POV DDG under the cut!

Lestat’s sophomore year—she’s had more than enough first days of school at this point—and yet somehow the anxiety in her stomach never goes away. She’s already anticipating the frustration, the tears, the begging Nicki to help with her papers because flunking a class would mean losing her scholarship to the theater program.

And Nicki has being so irritable with her lately, “Just go to the fucking tutoring center yourself, Lestat! Even you aren’t that dumb” she would snap, storming away, leaving Lestat staring numbly at the screen, unable to translate the thoughts in her head into words on the page in a way that made sense to her or anybody.

I’m not dumb...

“Lestat!” Eleni yells, waving as she bounds up the short steps outside of the liberal arts building. “What’s wrong with you?” She’s still catching her breath, god knows Eleni’s never been anywhere on time a day in her life.

“Nothing,” Lestat lies, shaking her head and taking one last hit of her vape, tilting her head back to blow a strawberry-scent cloud into the air.

Eleni narrows her eyes, but she doesn’t say anything. She’s met Nicki. She knows. That’s the shame of it, isn't it? Everyone knows.

And how had this happened? Was there truly nothing to spare the daughter the fate of the mother? How could Lestat not see it coming when she’d grown up knowing the warning signs before she even knew her ABCs and 123s?

“Come on,” Eleni puts her hand on Lestat’s arm like she’s guiding a lost child—her touch that careful, her tone that gentle.

Nicki aside, Eleni was her closest friend. Truth be told, Lestat didn’t have many friends. More acquaintances than she could care to remember, much less name.

Try as she might, she had never really stopped being the gangly little girl curled up in the corner with a book she couldn’t read, staring at the pictures until she saw spots dancing and her vision blurred, pretending she hadn’t even wanted to play with the other kids anyway. Who wanted to be friends with the kid with ratty hair and torn up clothes, eight-years-old and still unable to read because none of the adults in her life gave a fuck? Nobody wants you… Why should we?

Except Eleni had. Nicki had.

----

And that's as far as I got before I realized the story needed to go back to Armand's pov! Not that I wasn't happy with it or anything, but it was just starting to tell an entirely different story than the one that I wanted to!

[evaofkonoha]

I got one! Share a bit from a fic you’ll never post OR from a scene that was cut from an already posted fic. (If you don’t have either, just share a random fic idea you have that you don’t plan on getting to.)

hehe yay! I got a bite! thank you Magma ;) As for a scene that was cut, unfortunately when I kill my darlings, I really kill them, so they are gone forever :(

However~ I do have quite a few WIPs I have written that may never see the light of day, so I am happy to share a bit from one of those!

This is from a thing I wrote back in April maybe? It's called "Boy of the Year," it's SNS, specifically power bottom Sasuke dynamic and helplessly pining Naruto. Honestly, it's mostly just smut XD I needed inspiration, so I sprinted this whole thing out pretty quick if I remember. correctly. For some reason it's set in Fort Worth? Yeah... idk either. Maybe I will still post it one day? Until then, here is a very long and not totally smutty but a little tease from this WIP!

(warning this is hardly proofread or anything, it's in pretty raw form) --------------

Sasuke is… intense, as Naruto has discovered. 

The door wrenches open, Sasuke already nude, signature smirk on his stunning features. Sasuke’s bold attitude towards his body, and sex, has taken some adjustment on Naruto’s part. Sasuke is so incredibly confident that answering the door naked is probably without a second thought. 

Of course, Naruto can’t help but ogle his incredible body, so lithe, all lean muscle and flawless pale skin, everything about him is elegant. That’s the only word in Naruto’s limited vocabulary that seems to sum up all of the parts of Sasuke Uchiha. Even in the throes of passion Sasuke is exquisite. 

Meeting those dark brown eyes again, glittering, Sasuke appears very aware that Naruto is blatantly checking him out, like he always does when they meet up. Naruto can’t stop the blush that blooms across his cheeks even if he wanted to. 

“You’re slow,” Sasuke says, tone light, as he leans against the door frame, making no effort to hide his body. It is taking all of Naruto’s self control to not look down at Sasuke’s cock, which is semi-hard and gorgeous and right there.

“It’s busy, it’s Saturday, and I have to cross through most of downtown to get here,” Naruto explains, trying to force himself to stop bouncing in place, afraid it makes him look eager. Which is hilarious because he is eager.

“I’m feeling restless,”

“I figured,” Naruto says, suppressing a sigh. Naruto functions as Sasuke’s pick-me-up, the same way his black coffee does. 

A soft hand reaches up to caress Naruto’s cheek, leaving Naruto shivering slightly at the touch.

“I’m glad you came over, [character name] isn’t in town right now, and I’ve had a really long day,” Sasuke croons, his melodic voice drawing Naruto in. 

Closing his eyes in a combination of frustration and pleasure, Naruto pleads, “Please don’t talk about [name] while I’m here.” 

Sasuke chuckles softly, “That’s right, you don’t like me mentioning my other friends,” his hand moves lower, caressing Naruto’s neck, grabbing onto the collar of his shirt before roughly pulling him closer, “You’re so jealous…” Sasuke’s voice is playful, breath tickling his ear, leaving Naruto quivering in the apartment’s hallway. 

“C’mon,” Sasuke pulls him in roughly, letting the door slam shut behind them before throwing Naruto up against it with a solid thud. Those sinful lips descend on him, kissing his breath away. It’s immediately sloppy and wet, Sasuke’s tongue plunging into his mouth, taking control of the kiss. The taste of tobacco and peppermint tea is exquisite, so uniquely Sasuke. 

That tempting, naked body moves in flush with Naruto’s, his fingers playing with the neckline of Naruto’s shirt. On instinct, Naruto’s hands move to Sasuke’s waist, gripping slightly, earning a barely-there moan.

Teeth bite and pull at Naruto’s lower lip, a little spark of pain turns to pleasure drawing a guttural groan from Naruto as heat and adrenaline flood Naruto’s body, pooling in his lower abdomen. Prior to Sasuke, Naruto never liked anything painful, never found it arousing. It’s different now. Everything with Sasuke is different.

[candytoothed]

because of your latest post would I be able to tell you that I've been thinking about Katsuki spitting in readers mouth in any context (mostly smutty) without judgement?

and before you do judge just know that I am a mutual that cares about you so deeply and hopefully vice versa and I am a troubled soul, and I would greatly appreciate you indulging me

NOOO do nawt worry !!! for the most part, i don't rlly judge anyone's sexual preferences, to each their own!! ^_^ andddd i think ive actually written something about this for bkg before !! not sure if it was on my old acc or not but i def get it omg!!

nsfw below!! unedited (wrote kind quick whoops), smut, spit kink, pet names (baby + sweet girl), tittay sucking, katsuki's kinda a service dom here hehe

i like to think he's very sweet about it :3 he’s already inside you, going with a steady pace with his arms on either side of your head. dark love bites litter your upper body, and even more so as he continues to lick and suck your neck while you arch into him.

it’s quiet in this moment, neither of you too energetic this early in the morning. you let out little sighs and moans as he keeps reinserting his cock into you over and over again. your jaw is stretched out, your mouth wide open as your eyes squeeze shut.

“feels so good..” katsuki murmurs, more to himself than you, as his sweaty forehead presses against the underside of your jaw, licking over a bite mark.

it would be almost primal, the way he's mouthing at you, if he wasn’t so soft.

he kisses his way up to your lips, letting out grunts and moans as you push your tongue onto his. he sucks on your bottom lip, almost smiling as your hips start to buck up more, lazily rutting onto him.

his pace doesn’t falter one bit at your fidgety movements. in fact, he lifts the leg up wrapped around his waist to stretch onto his shoulder, bringing a small whine from you. he shushes you gently, pressing a kiss to your ankle before leaning back down to fulfill your needs.

he can tell you’re getting closer, but still not quite there yet. he drops a hand to your gushing center, pressing two fingers against your clit in gentle circling motions. you mewl, hips unintentionally bucking up more.

“i know, i know.” he mumbles, kissing right above the valley of your tits. “doing so well, baby.”

even with the extra stimulation, you’re still not there yet. katsuki finds everything as a challenge. he learns what he can to be the best— and only the best. which includes this scenario, where he stares down your wanton expression, your wet tongue looking back at him. he groans at a thought, fingers pressing harder against your clit as he leans down to grab your jaw, angling himself so your leg is still on his shoulder.

“cmere, sweet girl.” he gruffs, smiling as your eyes flutter open in curiosity.

he sticks out his own tongue, silently asking for you to mimic him, which you do without a second thought (not that you really have any right now)

whines still trickle out of you as he collects as much saliva as he can, still thrusting into you with the urgent need to make you feel like you’re on cloud 9. he leans down closely, opening his mouth to let the spit fall past his tongue and directly onto yours, some dripping below your lip too.

you whine loudly, eyes shutting again to swish it around in your mouth for a moment before swallowing it and lifting your hands to grip his shoulders tightly. “suki, i’m-”

“go ahead.” he groans, pounding into you just a little harder, fingers circling quicker. he looks down to where you're both connected, moaning at the sight.

"mmph- m gonna cum baby.." you slur, yelping as he forcefully slams to kiss your sweet spot. he lets out a tiny hiss as you squeeze around him, but he doesn't let up, leaning back down to reattach his lips around your sensitive nipples. your fingers grip onto his hair, tightly squeezing as your hips grind into his.

"atta girl." katsuki murmurs, feeling you start to shake as you reach your orgasm, cum seeping out of your pussy while he keeps swirling his skilled tongue over your tits. his narrowed eyes gleam up at you, "all ready for the day now, yeah?"

[littlegochu]

indelible│jjk 18+

in·del·i·ble

adjective

not able to be forgotten or removed: "i made an indelible impression on him."

"i want to watch the light drain from jeon jungkook's eyes the moment he realizes who i am."

pairing: jeon jungkook x reader (f)

genre: mafia, cold male lead, girl boss female lead that makes the male lead headover heels eeeee

rating: 18+, smut

synopsis: my job was simple: get close to jeon jungkook, the man at the top, and feed my father everything he needs to burn their world to the ground.

falling for him was never part of the plan. but now every lie i’ve told is starting to unravel—and i’m not sure if i’m here to destroy him… or to save myself.

authors note: ngl this is soooo unedited help lmk if there's any mistakes or confusing parts

pls lmk if this post is unappealing to the eye IM NEW HERE OKAY

-

Two years ago.

They said I died in the attack.

My name, my face, my life—wiped out in one night of fire and gunfire, wrapped in the same headline that buried my brother: "Coordinated assault on Moretti estate leaves heir and daughter dead."

That's what the public saw. A bloody hit. A warning to the underworld. Proof that even the most feared families could bleed.

The family told the world I was gone.

Let them believe it. Let our enemies think they'd wiped out the heir and the daughter.

Let them feel powerful.

It gave me space to disappear. To bury my name. To become someone new.

Now, I am Gia.

Not Y/N Moretti. Not the girl who wore silk gowns and smiled at dinner parties.

Now I am silence, sharpened to a blade.

I don't know who gave the order that night. Not yet. But I know who carried it out. His face is still a shadow. His name, just a whisper.

But when I find him, he'll remember me.

And he'll wish I stayed dead.

-

Present day.

I live like a ghost, but I'm not hiding.

I'm waiting.

The man who killed my brother died two weeks ago. Jeon Jungwoo—also known as "The Judge"—the head of the Jeon syndicate, one of the most brutal men to ever breathe in Seoul's underworld. Ruthless. Tactical. My father's worst enemy. My brother's killer.

He's dead now. Liver failure. The coward rotted from the inside out, and still managed to escape without consequence. Without ever seeing my face.

But his son—the new king in his father's shadow—just took the throne.

Jeon Jungkook.

-

The first rule of stepping into a place owned by the man you plan to destroy: Don't look like prey.

Walk in like you belong. Like your face isn't a ghost he thought was buried six feet underground. Like your pulse isn't ticking just a little too fast beneath your skin.

I ordered a drink I wouldn't finish. Something clear. Strong. I wasn't here to get drunk—I was here to see him.

And then I did.

Jeon Jungkook.

He stood near the far end of the lounge, half-shadowed by the soft golden light, his posture quiet and watchful as a man beside him spoke. He wasn't nodding. Wasn't reacting. Just listening—or pretending to.

He didn't have to do much. The room shifted around him naturally.

My eyes trailed over him, slow, clinical.

"You've been up here a while," he says.

His voice is smoother than I expect—calm, low, like he’s not trying to impress me but still could if he wanted to.

I tilt my head, letting my gaze slide over him slowly. "You’ve been watching me a while."

He almost smiles. Doesn’t, but it’s there—tugging at the corners of his mouth like he’s not used to the urge.

Up close, he’s... unfair. Sharp jaw, dark eyes, a quiet intensity that hums off him like electricity just waiting for skin to touch. But it's not just that. It’s the way he looks at me—like he’s trying to place something. Like I’m not just a girl with a drink, but a thought he can't finish.

"You don’t look like someone who comes here often," he says, eyes still on mine.

"You do?" I counter.

He shrugs, effortlessly confident. "I own it."

Of course he does. That explains the presence. The way people glance over like they’re trying not to look too long. That explains the arrogance, too.

"That explains the arrogance," I say aloud.

That almost-smile deepens—again, not fully formed. Like he’s holding it back on purpose.

"Would it be alright if I asked your name?" he asks, and he sounds polite about it. Careful, even.

I lift my glass, sip slow, keep my eyes on his. "Gia."

It’s not a lie, not anymore. But it still feels like one in my mouth.

He watches me for a beat too long, then says, "I’m Jungkook."

No reaction from me. I don’t blink. Don’t flinch. I know that name. Everyone does. But I can’t afford to look impressed—and honestly, I’m not. Not yet.

He glances over my shoulder, subtle. A habit. A calculated one. When his eyes come back to mine, I haven’t moved.

"You’re not here for the drinks," he says.

"Neither are you."

His voice doesn't match the way I thought it would sound.

It's softer. restrained. Not the cold edge I expected from a man with blood on his name. His presence is heavy—yes—but not forceful. He doesn't try to impress me. Doesn't ask intrusive questions or throw power around to prove a point.

That makes him more dangerous.

Jungkook stands just far enough not to invade my space, but close enough to make his attention obvious. His eyes skim across the club behind me every few seconds, watching everything, but they always come back to me.

He's trying not to stare.

But he does.

Quick glances that linger half a second longer than they should. A flicker to my lips when I speak. The subtle pause when I tuck a piece of hair behind my ear. His restraint is impressive—but not impenetrable.

He's looking.

And so am I.

I notice the way the light hits his features—jaw sharp, cheekbones high, lashes long enough to be criminal. There's a stillness to him that doesn't feel passive, but coiled. He's carved from silence, and yet I can tell he's the kind of man who speaks with purpose when he does speak.

Calculated. Controlled. But undeniably magnetic.

I hate that part of me notices.

But I let it.

Because attraction is a weapon, and right now, we're both holding the blade.

"You always talk to strangers in your own club?" I ask.

He huffs once—almost a laugh, more breath than sound. "No. I usually let them talk to me."

"Do I look like someone who does that?"

"Not even a little."

A beat passes.

He leans on the railing beside me, eyes flicking across the crowd as if it's second nature. He doesn't move much, but when he does, it's purposeful—every shift precise, like he's used to holding a room without saying a word.

"You said you own this club?"

"I inherited it," he says after a pause. "Same as everything else."

There's something dark beneath his tone. Not pity. Something heavier.

"And is it everything you wanted?"

"No. But that stopped mattering a long time ago."

He says it like a man who didn't get to choose what he became.

I finish my drink and set it on the ledge beside me. My fingers linger on the rim, and I catch his eyes flick to them—just briefly. Observant, focused, but not unaffected.

"You're not afraid of me," he says.

It's not a question.

"Should I be?"

His gaze holds mine a beat too long.

"No. But most people are."

"Maybe they don't know the difference between fear and fascination."

The corner of his mouth twitches. A near-smile. It's gone as quickly as it appears.

He opens his mouth again, and that's when I feel it.

Not from him.

From behind him.

I glance over his shoulder, letting my expression stay cool, but my pulse thunders.

One of his guards is walking along the edge of the upper floor, responding to a subtle nod from one of the other men below. He moves with purpose. Height, frame, scar under his right eye.

That scar.

My stomach knots.

It's him.

He was there. In my house. That night. One of the men who helped tear it apart. I remember him stepping over my brother's body. Holding the rifle like it was a natural extension of his arm.

He's older now, but I know him. I'd know that face even if the world went dark.

Jungkook shifts beside me. "Excuse me," he murmurs. "I'll be right back."

I nod. Calm. Still. Controlled.

He turns and heads for the stairs.

And I disappear.

Not through the main floor. I slip around the curve of the balcony, take the opposite staircase, and vanish into the crowd below.

Just as I reach the back of the club, I hear it.

A single gunshot.

Then screaming.

Glass shattering.

I press against a column, eyes scanning for the threat. Chaos swells. Jungkook's men move like clockwork—fast, silent, lethal.

And there he is—the man with the scar. Blood blooming across his side. He stumbles, raises a weapon.

Another shot.

He drops.

Just like that, the last man from that night—the last loose thread—bleeds out onto the floor of Jungkook's club.

I don't wait for the dust to settle.

I slip out the side exit and walk three blocks before I let myself breathe.

Not from fear.

From focus.

It worked.

He noticed me. Saw me.

More than that—he looked.

And now, he'll wonder why the woman who wasn't afraid of him vanished without a trace.

Let him wonder.

Let him remember.

This was just the beginning.

authors note: hey! im new to the tumblr platform for fics and all that stuff buttt i just wanted to upload a snippet of one of my wattpad stories! if you're interested in this story, check out the completed book on my wattpad ,,,, i could also post on here but probably move quicker than the wattpad version anyway pls comment what you think so far!

https://www.wattpad.com/littlegochu?utm_source=web&utm_medium=tumblr&utm_content=share_profile

[sttm99]

Content warnings: swearing, making out, unedited

Prohero!Dynamight falls for the live wedding painter at his best friend's wedding

Dynamight is explosive in more ways than just his quirk.

When you see him in person for the first time whilst doing the live painting for Red Riot's wedding ceremony, he's all you see for a moment or two, and you're thankful you didn't mess up a chord at the sight of him.

His presence is overwhelming, taking up the space around him, sucking people in whilst simultaneously pushing them away.

He walks down the aisle with another pro-hero bridesmaid on his side before taking his place on the dais with the rest of the groomsmen, meters away from where you're standing before your easel.

Dynamight stands next to Chargebolt, his signature frown softer than usual as he watches his friend get married. You stare at him, eyes tracing the contours of his face as best as you can despite the distance as you work to capture his face in the painting.

He's a handsome man, you think, as you press quick strokes to his hair. When you look up again, he's staring at you, and the eye contact has your stomach dropping in a way that's not entirely unpleasant.

He looks away immediately Red Riot comes up, lightly patting his best friend's back in encouragement.

Once the music starts and the bride enters the hall, Dynamight is the last thing on your mind as you work to capture her. As you do so, you fail to notice the way he goes back to looking at you.

You set your things down at the corner of the large reception hall, beginning the second painting of the evening.

You smile softly at guests as they come to admire your work, trying your best to capture the bride's extravagant reception dress as she prances around the place gleefully.

You're focused as your work on her skirt piece, squinting as you paint across it delicately, so much so you don't notice the presence just behind you.

"You're good at this shit." You hear suddenly behind you. The voice is startling enough to draw your focus away, but not so much that you mess it up.

You glance behind you at the tall blonde male, fairly shocked at his presence. You'd assumed he wasn't the type for social interactions judging by how cold and aloof he was to most of the other guests.

"It is my job," You say as you turn back to your painting.

"I know." He walks forward, so he's beside you now, his gaze on the scene on you've done so far. "But this-" He pauses, glances at you then back ay the easel, "This is really fucking good. And you're fast. I saw the one you did at the ceremony."

You hum, a nice warmth coursing through you at the praise.

"Thank you, Dynamight." You turn to give him a small smile. Then you hold out your brush to him, "You wanna try?"

His eyes widen a bit and he quickly shakes his head. "Nah. I'll do a shit job, I promise you."

You laugh softly at how hesitant he was, but you could see the way he was eyeing the brush. "It's fine. You'll just make some strokes on the gown." You insist. "I'll guide you."

He pauses, looking straight at you as he mulls it over.

"Fine. Gimme that." He huffs as he takes the brush from you and stands closer, holding it over the board.

"Okay, so..." You hold his enclosed palm and bring the brush closer to the painting, making light strokes on the white gown of the bride.

Your eyes are on the painting, but his are on you, your face as you focus, your hand as it holds his, and a warmth begins to pool at his stomach.

"See?" You murmur with a small smile as you look back at him. Your cheeks redden just slightly when you see how he's already looking at you.

"Um... are you-"

"You should call me Bakugo," He says as he looks away from you and back at the painting. His voice is lower than before, and his disposition is less stiff.

"Oh." You just say quietly as he hands the brush back to you, unsure of what to say next.

"Now's when you tell me your name in return." He's quieter, and he's refusing to look at you.

You assume it's to hide the red you can see dusting his face.

"YN." You say to him as you take the brush back, a small smile on your face. He nods once and repeats it under his breath in a voice that almost makes you squirm.

"Is that me?" He asks quietly as he squints at a figure in one corner.

You look at it and nod. "Yep."

He hums, "And that's Soy Sauce face." He points at another figure you're sure is Cellophane. "Then Earphone Jack and the idiot. Deku, Half and Half-"

He goes on listing pro heroes by strangely accurate but offensive nicknames, and you can't help but find it incredibly funny.

He spends most of the reception with you as you paint, ignoring the weird way people look at him as he refuses to leave your side, even going as far as bringing you a plate of cake after it's been cut, and some other foods and drinks.

As the night ends and the guests leave, he's the last by your side before the newlyweds and their closer friends and family come over to see how far you've gone.

"It looks practically done," Mina says in awe.

You smile as you pack the rest of your things. "Almost. I'll have to do some finishing touches at the studio first, though. You should get them back in about a week."

They hum as they take some more looks.

Kirishima looks at Bakugo as he stands right next to your side. "You gonna follow her to the studio too?" He snorts at his friend, "Seeing as you couldn't leave her side, you might as well."

"Shut the fuck up, Shitty Hair."

You laugh as you pack up the painting, "Anyways, I hope you guys had fun, and congratulations on getting married." You say as you begin to leave.

"I'll help you," Bakugo grumbles as he carries your large box of paints and brushes.

The look he gives you lets you know that he's not taking 'no' for an answer, which is how you found yourself outside the hall with him next to the car.

"Thank you, Bakugo, for the help." You say as you look up at him with a grin.

He stares you down with his regularly furrowed brows, his hands stuffed in his pocket as he thinks of what to say to keep you longer.

"Would it be inappropriate if I asked for your number?" He's so close you can smell him and it makes you feel fuzzy.

You grin. "Not at all."

He hands you his phone for you to out your number in, and as he watches you do it with your hands slightly stained with paint, he can't help but want to kiss you.

Would that be inappropriate? He's sure it will. You two just met. But still, he can't help but want to try.

Bakugo stuffs his phone back into his pockets the moment you hand it back, and he steps closer to you. His palms are sweaty, and he's trying to inconspicuously wipe them as they're stuffed in his trouser pockets.

"Would it also be inappropriate if I kissed you here?" His voice is husky as he asks and you can see the blush on his face.

He's so much different than the media paints him out to be, more awkward than mean, more aloof than nasty. But you think that maybe this persona, this Bakugo, is just for you.

You smile up at him shyly, your hands tightly clasped behind your back as you nod.

He doesn't hold your face because his palms are too sweaty. He doesn't think he can get them dry enough on time because he wants to kiss you now.

He leans forward, and you do too, and when his mouth meets yours, you're lightheaded. His lips are soft as he kisses you, and he moves them in a way that shows experience.

You smile into it, satisfied and still wanting more, and before you know it, his palms are on your waist, pulling you flush against his body and pressing his lips harder against your own.

When you pull away, his eyes are half lidded, but you can see how blown his pupils are.

"Good night, Bakugo." You whisper to him.

He pecks your cheek once before letting go, "Good night."

[earthtooz]

gn!reader, domesticity with aventurine, inspired by his latest art, reader calls aventurine 'good boy', unedited i wrote this bc im weak

"Alright. I understand. Let's schedule the interview for today."

It's bright. Too bright. The sun is in your eyes, what a rude way to be awakened.

Behind you, you hear the velvety voice of your lover and the indistinct chatter from the person you suspect he is calling. It is no strange occurrence for Aventurine to be on a call first thing in the morning, some business partner or boss of his ringing his phone before he can even roll out of bed.

At this point, you've grown too accustomed to it, so you merely roll over and wrap your arm around him, curling in to his side.

You don't get to see the smile on his face, but you can hear it in his voice as an arm of his wraps itself around you.

"I'll be there in an hour tops. Before then, try not to bother me too much." Aventurine hangs up the call, throwing his phone to the side and placing a kiss to the top of your head. "Good morning, pretty."

"Good morning, handsome," you murmur into the expensive silk of his sleepwear, sneaking your hand under the soft fabric to draw small hearts on the side of his ribs. "Do you need to leave?"

"I have some time beforehand. How'd you sleep?"

"Good. Want some more time with you, though."

You finally look up at him, perching yourself onto your elbow to meet his alluring gaze. Here, he admires the subtle ways sleep clings to your expression, the way you yawn and rub your eyes- oh, how fortunate he is to get to wake up beside you everyday.

"Shame, you should probably get up soon."

"Are you trying to kick me out?" He whines. "We still have a few minutes before I really need to get up."

You laugh affectionately and it's music to Aventurine's ears. "Last time you said that you were late by a considerable amount of time. Come on, the IPC needs you."

He sighs before rolling over, encasing you in his embrace. "The IPC can cry about it, I care about you more."

"How cute," you whisper before pressing a kiss on the space between his eyebrows, your action causing him to scrunch his nose. "But still, why don't I go prepare some breakfast for us?"

Aventurine grumbles something incoherent, but judging by the way his arms tighten around you, he's much prefers your current situation. "Can I get a kiss?"

You press one to the corner of his mouth and he scoffs. "That was nothing, give me a proper one."

"Only good boys get what they want," you reprimand.

"Pretty please?"

You smile before leaning in to gently slot your lips with his and Aventurine's heart skips a beat. It's an uncomfortable sensation but he's become accustomed to it, even falling in love with it. He'll fall in love with anything as long as it's you, even the vulnerable sensation of being helplessly devoted to another person.

It's perfect, if he could stay like this forever, he would.

You're perfect, he wants you to be by his side forever.

© EARTHTOOZ 2024, do not steal, translate, repost my fics and do not recommend my fics onto any other site.

[woozisprincess]

Seventeen's reaction to you wanting to run through the entire group

You want to run through the Seventeen members like you're on the track team.

Seventeen x Fem Reader

Super suggestive, entirely talk about sex, Soonyoung wants a threesome, they are all dtf, it's the same scenario but if each member were the first to find out, reader gets called a slut (lovingly), unedited bs

Seungcheol

"Really?" He looks at you with a raised brow. Not what he was expecting when he asked if you had a crush on any of them. Was hoping you'd say him, but he supposes this can work in his favor. He leaned close to you, grabbing by the waist. "Well, you could always start with me." And if he got his way, you won't even think about the others once he's done. You thought a night with the leader was a great way to kick off your excursions.

Jeonghan

All of them? Not that he was judging. Just sounded like a lot of effort. Also Cheol's really possessive, the maknae doesn't like to share either, and Soonyoung is such a brag. So many things to consider, and work around. Sounds like more effort than it's worth. But then again... Sense you're offering. "I don't know about those other guys, but I can promise you won't regret a night with me."

Shua

Well that's... Not information that he asked for, but go off. "Whatever makes you happy, sweetheart." Dumb response. What does that even mean? Truthfully, out of everyone you did not mean to tell Joshua. Sweet, gentle Joshua. You apologize for your poor manners. Joshua thought for a moment. "Well I'm not exactly a perfect gentleman all the time." He smiled at you. Sum bout' how he said it. Did that mean what you thought it meant?

Junhui

"Damn, girl!" The reaction was automatic. "Like the whole team!?" You confirmed. After the initial shock Jun actually could not care less, just another thing about you that he probably shouldn't know, but you told him regardless. "Well... Shit," he muttered, "let me know when it's my turn." He might not care all that much, but he's not fucking stupid. If a bad bitch wants him, a bad bitch wants him.

Soonyoung

"Oh bet!? Can I go first!?" That's it. He jumps at the opportunity laid out before him, does not give a fuck that his band mates also take up space in your mind. Was actually weirdly into the fact that you wanted them all. Would you have two of them at once? That'd be so hot. Is giddy when you agreed to let him go first as long as he bought you dinner first. Told the whole group he hit. However, was a real one and did not tell them that they were potentially next.

Wonu

Oh? Okay then? You didn't even say it directly, but from how you were literally growling when talking about each member during the performance? Yeah you wanted that cookie, you wanted the whole fucking box of cookies. The bakers dozen, if you will. "Someone's libido is fucked." He mentioned, casually. You went flush after realizing how fucking feral you were acting. "Hey, you want what you want. I want you too, if that makes you feel any better." It did. It made you feel a lot better.

Jihoon

Could you even do that? Like that's a lot of dudes. Your body would need breaks, surely. He had no clue why he was focusing on the logistics so much, but he knew proper protection was a must. "Make sure they all wear condoms, don't get distracted." Solid piece of advice, but not the response you were expecting. Jihoon then showed you that he was ready for you anywhere and anytime by opening a random drawer in his studio, revealing a box of condoms. Extra large. Oh my god. You 100% put those condoms to use.

Dokyeom

"Sorry? What? Sorry?" He short circuited. You patted his shoulder and apologized. "Nononononono." You shouldn't apologize, it's your body! Oh, for freaking him out? No he's not freaking out... He's a grown man, perfectly capable of listening to a beautiful woman's sexual desires, especially if he's a part of them. "I just-" he sputters. "Me too?" Yes? Oh. So nice of you. Very generous. "Thank you." Adorable. You couldn't wait to ravage him.

Mingyu

Big softie, immediately asked to take you out for dinner. You grin at the prospect of princess treatment. And boy was he generous. Most selfless lover you've ever had. And the date itself was magical, he pulled out all the romantic stops. Truly, that night you didn't just fuck, Kim Mingyu, you made love to him. Definitely happening again... After you make your rounds though. Mingyu completely forgot you wanted to fuck the team. Was chill about it though. Very happy you had plans to return to him.

Minghao

"What do you mean by that?" You looked at him like he was stupid, confirming his suspicions. Another one you didn't actually tell, it just slipped out. While watching them practice, you pointed out Jihoon and Hoshi, started singing that two bad bitches song. Then muttered 'actually, all these bad bitches.' Minghao's interest was piqued. Really, the last person you wanted to tell was Hao, he could be awful... Judgey. But he was surprisingly very open minded. You supposed it wasn't that out of character. "So is this like a mission, or a fantasy?" Mission? Cool. "I'm very in support of women taking control of their sexuality's." Aka, 'I'm down to fuck.'

Seungkwan

"Slut." Automatic. Not a single regret. To be fair, he was calling you that already. You couldn't argue with him either. This would be the sluttiest thing you've ever attempted. Seungkwan was so proud. "You know you're gonna have to amp it up if you wanna pull the whole team, right?" Told you what to wear for who, how to act around who. Made you a slide show full of info, though, he gave you no info on himself. But then he finished his lecture and said, "And about the sex part, can't be a good slut unless you've had some proper experience." His voice was low when he spoke. And you had complete faith that Boo Seungkwan could make you the best slut.

Vernon

"baller." He meant that shit too. High-key a power move. He's sure you'd have them all whipped in no time. And some of them liked to fucking spend! Not only could you have dick whenever you wanted, and also multiple lovers for different moods, but dinner dates, lunch dates, cuddle seshes, shoes, purses, nails, hair, Lego sets! Whatever you wanted! The world was your oyster! Vernon's always liked a woman who knows what she wants. "Question. Can you choke me?" The answer was yes.

Dino

"Reaaallllyyyy?" Chan wasn't judging. Okay he was judging a little bit, but just because it was his hyungs. "They're all so... Bleh." Like sure they were attractive and talented, but they were also his hyungs. He just didn't get it. What did they have that he didn't? Well a few of them are really buff... Some of them have quite the way with words... And Hoshi and Jeonghan were charismatic... So maybe they had a lot. But still, they're his hyungs!!! "Don't even bother with those guys, I'm sure once we're done you won't even want them." Only one way to find out.

(⁠*⁠＾⁠3⁠＾⁠)⁠/⁠～⁠♡

A/N: I want to run through svt like I'm on the track team. I really like Kwan's, like yes, training ark. Jihoon said wrap it losers!!!

Anyways, if you liked this pls talk to me about it, I'd love to hear your thoughts. Comments or reblogs appreciated.

[rosewiltd]

rpc trends i have lived through: a compendium

this is by no means hate to trends ( "trends" in this case being something a large majority of people have participated in at some point, whether they're good or bad - not for me to judge ) bc i am a slave to the aesthetic as much as the next person. i've just been in the trenches, is all.

no promos, no formatting, no icons, no tagging system. we live in the wild west and if you can find someone to write with? godspeed.

small text and that's it for formatting. maybe a little italics for flavour. the beginnings of "omg you're so elitist for this" surfaces.

themes by manatopia ( if you were in the anime rpc ) or octomoosey ( if you favoured the rl fcs ).

simple one-word straightforward tagging system with no fancy text or symbols. ( ie. appearance, musings, closet, etc )

more complex tagging system, with symbols and quotes/lyrics using a generated font the tumblr tagging system can't actually read

one-panel simple promos with full resumes in the description ( ie. 10+ years experience, literate, etc )

2-panel simple promos

3 and 4-panel promos of varying complexity

the signerica font

text promos with icons

big, unedited gifs of varying sizes and colorings used interchangably

smaller gifs, but same as above

no icons

simple icons with simple one-line borders and whatever the fuck that checker texture was that everyone and their grandmother used

triggers? and you tag them???? wild. never heard of. we stumble blindly through content like god intended.

follower milestone/giveaways - essentially your speech at the oscars and here's a little incentive to keep following me. usually for large milestones like 100, 500, 1k, and 3k followers. if you had more than that, you had killed god.

photoshopped replies - as in, we wrote up replies into a graphic

fancy image dividers, usually something small and ornate and centered, the precursor to the dividers we use today.

container themes, with the containers getting progressively smaller. if you didn't use agirlingrey's themes, were you even an rper? quickly followed by container themes with pop-ups. look out. don't forget the floating orbs. or the little banners on the side that told you who the blog was for and the writer's name.

which reminds me, if you weren't using the spark/fire overlay on promos/graphics/etc, you were excommunicated from the rpc and sent to the dungeons.

magic anons. usually of the sexual variety. no, my muse will not be horny for 24 hours straight and they sure won't have an orgasm every time someone says their name, thank you very much. sometimes it was fun though. your muse as a neko? like, nya.

y'all i haven't even gotten past 2015 yet.... the rest is under the cut. feel free to add your own. im sure im forgetting so much.

burn blogs. enough said.

positivity blogs to counteract the burn blogs, but ultimately became a breeding ground for jealousy because the same three people were endlessly complimented. it's the thought that counts though!

memes/sentence starters, but they were made on your own rp blog and if it garnered 20k notes, there was nothing you could do to stop it. rip your activity feed. we learned. boy, did we learn.

prompt/aesthetic sideblogs.

missing e, the predecessor to xkit.

xkit. then new xkit. then xkit rewritten. missing e let us down, but we won't let this fucker die.

url trends im lumping together: latin urls, "of___", urlisms, random 'x's tacked on before and/or after the url or in place of a vowel. 'c's tacked in place of e's and o's. numbers in place of letters. changing your url just for holidays/seasons.

graphics that were either desaturated or so vibrant they were crispy

themes by eternalworks

themes by hyruleshop, isaworks, or other major creators.

the rise of callouts, for better or worse

the rise of purity culture, for better or worse

receipt/callout blogs

purple prose

extra af formatting ( no hate ), coloured text, spacing, etc.

elaborate graphics.

mains. affiliates. people you should be following. the successor of 'follow friday' and milestone 'thank you' announcements.

dni lists, for better or worse.

multimuse blogs

rp sideblogs

the current trend of ripping a canon from their og universe and re-writing them as an oc bc shut up that's why

probably a whole heck of a lot more i cannot remember. i've blocked out the trauma.

[sunflw3rbouquet]

i don't show it

dan heng x male reader

note: ooc dan heng, grumpy x sunshine/golden retriever x black cat, you're not caelus, touches on dan heng lore but doesn't explain it, ooc astral express, very self indulgent, this is my second worse oneshot i hate it, unedited tw: playfighting, feeling bad about oneself, dan heng being aloof

…sun✰ my dear dan heng!

dan heng is a stoic man.

most would define him as aloof, or even nonchalant, and leave it at that. what traut wouldn’t come up, however, was kind-hearted. it was something he reserved for those close to him, only letting hints of it through, causing the common assumptions of his personality. for whatever reasons, dan heng camouflaged himself as a man that didn’t experience any positive emotions, even though he was a happy person in private.

y/n didn’t understand why.

”can i please sleep in your room tonight?” y/n excitedly asked, his arms happily wrapping around dan heng’s shoulders. his voice was powerful in the silent archives. dan heng was startled due to the sudden environment change, his muscles tensed for a moment, stopping in time like a dear caught unprepared in the headlights of a car. his arm was outreached towards the shelves upon shelves of books, right hand clenched into a fist, barely noticeable before he relaxed it. 

“i thought we agreed on not showing our relationship in public, the original agreement including the express.” he calmly replied, not turning around to look at the known intruder. dan heng’s expression remained the same, even as y/n began to tug on the collar of his shirt. “what will i ever do with you.” a soft sigh escaped his lips as y/n began to huff loudly like a dog.

”my room’s freezing! besides, one night won’t hurt.” y/n quickly countered, his hand now moving to rake through dan heng’s short, black hair. “i’ve missed you so much recently.” his demeanor changed from the loud and bubbly persona, quickly becoming quieter as he admitted the fact to dan heng, his face pressed into the nook between the man’s neck and shoulder. y/n inhaled in, the scent of dan heng’s mapley sweet and woody cologne flowing into his nose. the smell was familiar, something that reminded him of the man he loved so much. 

dan heng’s breath came out in a soft puff, clearly deciding he was fighting a losing battle. “just this once, because i miss you too.” he replied, moving his arms so y/n could latch himself onto dan heng’s body after accepting his proposal. dan heng’s hand twitched slightly, his fingers slowly stroking y/n’s hair tightly. his arm was wrapped around y/n’s neck, his boyfriend’s head resting on his chest. “why are you here? it’s still time for you to be working. last time i checked, you haven’t finished all of your reports from your last trailblazing mission.” he rubbed the skin of y/n’s hand gently, almost like he was coaxing a response out of him.

“...himeko left my desk for a moment, so i decided to run away.” y/n whispered, his lips pressing against dan heng’s jaw as an almost chaser apology. dan heng sighs, allowing himself to sink into the feeling of his boyfriend’s touch, chin bumping against y/n’s nose.

“seriously, love?” he asked, his tone almost laced with a judging attitude as he stopped his hand, y/n whining loudly. dan heng rolled his eyes for a moment before patting his boyfriend’s head, stepping away from him to turn his attention back to his bookshelf. his eyes raked over the countless books on the shelves, ignoring y/n’s pleas and the countless pulls on his shirt. “i truly am enamored with you, but i don’t appreciate you cutting work to see me instead.”

y/n let out a soft sigh of defeat, his head falling into dan heng’s shoulder with the slightest amount of (added) reverb to emphasize his pitifulness. “i guess i’ll leave. i dislike how sensible you are sometimes.” he complained, kissing dan heng’s cheek lightly, only enough so he could just barely feel the touch. dan heng didn’t reply, only waving in response as y/n walked backwards towards the door, a bright smile on his lips because of the action. y/n turned around to leave the room, only to be met with himeko’s stern face and fiery red hair (that looked even more similar to a raging fire as her gaze burned into him).

”i knew you would be here.” himeko said, y/n chuckling nervously as he put his hands up in defense, himeko reaching for his ear. “i’ll be taking him dan heng. he’ll be occupied until he’s finished his work.” dan heng nodded, looking away from his struggling boyfriend to organize the bookshelves.

”i’m sorry! himeko-!” y/n said, his feet hitting the floor as he was dragged along the ship to the office car before he fell on the floor. himeko smiled, dusting off her hands before walking away.

”do your work!” she yelled, y/n huffing softly.

they were all against him.

dinner was tense.

while march and caelus still happily talked, y/n found himself being stared down by both himeko and dan heng. himeko’s gaze was burning, y/n afraid he would get sunburnt if he spent any more time subjected to it. dan heng’s was a little kinder, a weak smile on his lips as he ate his dinner. his aura was so-so, like he felt sorry for the man, but still thinking he deserved the punishment.

the food on y/n’s plant was pushed around, a soft puff of air escaping his lips as he continued to lose his appetite. welt looked up from his plate, pushing his glasses back up the bridge of his nose. “himeko, i think he’s learned his lesson.” his voice was firm, unwavering as he stated his opinion. himeko rolled her eyes, her plate one of the few finished ones on the table. 

“it’s a lesson you all need to learn, not just y/n. you need to do your work!” she exclaimed, caelus looking at her confused. himeko sighed, waving her hand towards him. “not you, caelus, don’t worry.” y/n felt himself sink into his chair, the familiar feeling of shame creeping up his neck. he proceeded to not make eye contact with the rest of the astral express members, letting a breath slowly out of his mouth. his food slowly cooled, dan heng speaking up in the stifling silence.

“eat your food.” y/n’s eyes flicked up towards his boyfriend, his eyes locking with dan heng’s. he reluctantly picked up his fork, eating the food with a speed that would shock those who weren’t used to it. wiping his hands on his towel, y/n stood up, looking at himeko and welt.

“may i be excused?” he asked, himeko returning his gaze with shock before nodding, y/n pushing his chair back under the table and walking off towards dan heng’s room.

it was embarrassing to be one of the fools of the group.

y/n sat on the edge of dan heng’s bed in his pajamas, his hair dripping from his shower. he watched the drops fall onto the comforter, eyes unfocused as he spaced out. his hands were laced together, ears not listening to the sounds around him.

”darling? are you okay?” dan heng spoke, his face suddenly appearing in front of y/n’s. his hand moved on top of y/n’s, rubbing the backs gently to coax him out of his daze.

”i’m sorry for today.” y/n softly spoke, his bright and shiny demeanor gone. dan heng sat down next to him, his own wet hair resting against y/n’s shoulder as he leaned into his body.

”you don’t have to be sorry, you did nothing wrong.” he reassured, his left hand rubbing y/n’s thigh gently. dan heng let out a soft sigh, his lips pressed against the crook of y/n’s neck. “i know i’m indifferent, and sometimes i treat you unfairly or a mild amount of contempt, but i truly adore you.”

y/n’s eyes lit up at the statement, eyes crinkling at the edges as leaned into dan heng’s touch. “thank you, i appreciate that.” dan heng smiled, kissing y/n’s cheeks with an enamored gaze in his irises. y/n lifted his arms to clasp around dan heng’s neck, turning his head to return the kisses on his lips instead. dan heng laughed, dragging the two further down the bed so they could rest comfortably on the mattress together. 

the moody behavior that y/n carried left as soon as he had dan heng next to him, kissing every single worry and insecurity of his away. kiss after kiss, movement after movement, everything was perfect. y/n allowed himself to fall into dan heng’s touch, unafraid of any consequences that he might face. dan heng’s hands held him tightly around his waist, air slowly escaping his nose until he pulled away from y/n to catch his breath.

”i love you.” he replied, y/n lazily nodding his head in agreement, a look of love-drunk bliss on his face. dan heng smiled in response to the nod, something so uncharacteristically dan heng.

dan heng was always considered aloof or indifferent. he was a cold man who cared about others at the surface level and was more preoccupied with his personal endeavors.

y/n never understood this, however, because he was always so happy and bright towards him, like a faraway star waving to the sun. 

he wasn’t cold, he was selective in giving his heart out. y/n was just the lucky one who got this heart.

i heart dan hang i am dan heng 1574 words

[teeayohess]

{ 18 simlish horror-themed recolors of misstiikeri+eir's m2f crooked tee } what a mouthful lmao

i wasn't too sure about how these had turned out at first, but after seeing them in game they actually grew on me, so here they are. thank you @gvaudoiin-tricou for encouraging me to finish them and share! i hope you like them :-)

since this is essentially a mash-up of several people's work (see credits), frankenstein-ed together, it feels pretty appropriate for the theme.... 🧟‍♂️🔪🦇🩸👽 consider this a tiny late simblreen treat, hehe 🎃

these separate tops are for AF only*, since that's what i needed in my game (but the TF/EF meshes should be easy to copy-paste onto) [edit: *added links to an AM version as well]

they are categorized as everyday, sleepwear and athletic (not sure who would want to sleep or exercise in fishnets but hey i'm not judging. also it's really easy to remove them if you like, since they're a separate texture from the shirt)

compressorized, tooltipped, and the files are labeled clearly. the swatch and previews are included in the rar file.

full disclosure, this mesh has a few issues i don't currently have the skills to fix: it has no fat morph (😑), and there is some clipping in places depending on how the sim moves, and a few dark spots (not super noticeable with the black texture, thankfully). if anyone feels inspired to fix the mesh or add morphs, i'll happily update this post and the linked file.

>>> get them here: { SFS } { MF } [edit: AM version here: { SFS } { MF } ]

credits, swatch & unedited pic under the cut.

swatch: (labeled according to the file names for easy id; i suck at reading simlish so 'flash' was all i could understand from that one, apologies if it's incorrect lol)

unedited preview: (taken in-game, with neutral lighting)

credits: the77sims & misstiikeri (original male mesh & 3t2 conversion) eir (m2f conversion) trillyke (fishnets), monilisasims (4t2 conversion) littlecakes (graphics), kalux (4t2 conversion) surprisepeach (graphics)