#him and his highlighter yellow pants

[mysticmistral]

Got possessed at 2am after spending my free time doing the Xenoverse 2 Fu Raid. I have no idea why, but I decided to get past art block and draw the silly scientist himself, based on one of his wallpapers. (Which is why Vegeta and his sword isn’t there. Or the rest of his body.)

Dragon Ball Male eyes are so damn hard to draw since their eyebrows are always glued to the top of their eyelids. And the muscles but I honestly think Fu wouldn’t be so bulky since he’s a scientist. As for the hair, it didn’t look right with such a clean V shape so I made it messy. I’ve scribbled him with one bang poking out like Heroes Fu which I barely acknowledge since he seems evil and not just chaotic neutral.

This is for the other like, four Fu fans on Tumblr.

[tadpolesonalgae]

Lost In Paradise

Azriel x reader

a/n: I don’t know what the fuck overcame me when writing this—heads up they’re in the Day Court, by the way

Warnings: dear gods Azriel, Azriel in jewellery—diamond piercings to be precise, with kohl lined/smudged eyes, biting, oral (f receiving), smut, overstim, Azzie being a bit mischievous—implied orgasm denial, light wing play, light breeding kink

word count: 3,009

“We have a dinner to go to, Az,” you insist, inclining your chin as he noses along your throat, broad palms running slowly, reverently, up and down the bare skin of your back. Calloused and scarred hands rasping against the smooth, shimmery expanse of your skin, fingers touching along the knuckles of your spine.

“You’re a three course meal all on your own, pretty thing,” he murmurs beside the shell of your ear, gripping your waist lightly, letting his touch span across the sheer silk of your dress, marvelling at your feel, your shape beneath his hands—how finely you fit with him. 

Your pulse spikes at the flattery, heart beating quick in your chest, head tipping back as his lips press firmly to the small notch in your throat, kissing down to your collar bones, keeping you tight to his front, grip firm and unrelenting. “We’re guests,” you try faintly, already lost in his heaven, “it would be bad etiquette to not show up to the first meal—Az…!”

In one smooth motion he’s swept you off your feet, guiding your legs around his waist, thighs squeezing his hips while his palms appreciatively support your ass. “Bad etiquette would be not eating you out before I fuck you,” he drawls atop your mouth, a cocky smirk on his softened lips, staring down at you with his kohl-smudged eyes, diamonds swinging from his ears, the gold fastenings gleaming in the burning yellow sunset, setting the ocean on fire with molten metal as the sun melts atop the glistening waves. 

“Bad etiquette would be wasting a perfectly romantic evening for the sake of one measly dinner that we aren’t even required to attend,” he murmurs, that smug, self-satisfied look in his shining hazel eyes, flecks of amber and jade set alight through the refraction of the setting sun. Gleaming and swirling like they’re precious stones infinitely more valuable than even the tiny, glittering diamonds making up the jewellery adorning his marvellously handsome features. 

“You look good in Day Court attire,” you mumble breathlessly, clinging onto him as he walks you out onto the balcony, laying you down atop the pillowy, padded massage table, creamy fabric turned a perfectly-baked, golden-brown in the evening light, fitted over the cushions.

“You like how much skin it shows,” he drawls, palms settling either side of you, your hair splayed out from where he’s set you, strewn in lustrous glory against the pillow. “You like how easy it is to manoeuvre around.” 

Sure enough, with the soaring temperatures during a sun-filled day, with heat beating down upon the marble-carved pillars, the attire is perfectly suited for the arid climate. Clothing comes in light colours—mostly cream or off-white—and it contrasts the colour of his skin perfectly. The flush on his cheeks despite the cocky look highlights the hunger delightfully. And thanks to the opulent nature of the Court itself, it gives reason for your mate to wear some of the piercings he rarely adorns himself in for the sake of practicality. The ones you love—his ears the main focus, but with wandering hands your fingers clutch the hem of pale, heated linen, raising it from his toned stomach to reveal the incredibly self-indulgent piercing he’d gotten for his belly button, white diamonds set around the narrow golden band. 

“Gods you’re edible,” you pant, the shallow breaths having little to do with the heated evening and more to do with the hot and hungry look he’s pinning you with as he pulls the troublesome shirt off and over his head. His wings flexing and flaring now they’re rid of the fabric brushing the base of the great limbs. Showing off his well-endowed magnificence, as he should.

“Feel better about skipping that dinner now, pretty thing?” Azriel asks roughly, fingers catching the hem of your dress and swiftly pulling it out from under you, pushing it away further along the pale, padded table. “Maybe you had a point about my bad etiquette,” he drawls hotly, open palm coasting up your stomach, fingers grazing between your breasts. He leans over, dark silky hair flopping across your brow, kohl-rimmed eyes making the hazel of his irises simmer with the ravenous intensity of the setting sun, setting you ablaze. “I’ll be eating first.” 

“How brash,” you breathe, fingers dancing up the bare muscle of his upper arms, nails squeezing lightly at his shoulders, raking teasingly over his gloriously powerful back. He begins laying kisses to your collar bones, teeth nipping at your shimmering skin—you’d spent some time refreshing and making use of the scented, swirling lotions available—slowly trailing down between your breasts, tongue flicking over your nipples teasingly. “Weren’t you ever told not to play with your food?” 

“How can I resist when there’s such a beautiful meal before me? Taste is important but it’s more than that, wouldn’t you say?” Fingers hook beneath the golden strings at your hips, guiding them down your thighs as his mouth trails lower, kissing down your stomach. “I need to appreciate all of you. Not just with my mouth, but with my skin, and touch. How can I enjoy you without indulging all my senses?”

“All of them?” You question, back arching as he reaches your abdomen, fingers threading through his hair to encourage him closer. 

Azriel laughs, the sound coming from deep in his chest, splashing over your skin like melted butter and honey, bathing you in arousing sweetness. “All of them,” he whispers. 

“Sight.” Dark rimmed eyes flick upwards, licking over your form as he connects with you, lashes thick and heavy atop his gaze—equally heavy. 

“Smell.” He noses the intimate skin of your inner thigh, fingers digging into the soft flesh as he parts your legs to make room for himself, your ass resting just at the edge of the cushioned table.

“Touch.” Fingers slip between your parted thighs, trailing up and down your centre, slicking himself in your wetness. Circling your clit twice before dipping back down. 

“Sound.” His thick digits slide in, a cocky smirk on his mouth as he curls them causing your back to arch, beckoning you forward, a heady moan spilling from your mouth as he pushes deeper, rubbing against spots he knows you like. 

“Would you like to tell me the fifth one?” Azriel drawls, dangerously low, arousal thickening his tone to something dark and syrupy. 

“Taste…” You breathe desperately. “Taste…Azriel!” 

“Good girl.” His lips curve in a sinful grin, diamonds twinkling their mirth as he lowers himself to your cunt. “You’ve earned it.” 

A rich, heady moan spills from your mouth as his tongue flattens over your clit, fingers working you with heavenly ease while his mouth remains at the apex of your thighs. It’s nothing short of paradise, floating high above in the clouds, nestled in a pillowy cushion as he bathes you in pleasure, rubbing it into you in ways that shouldn’t be permitted—how can something so good exist on this plane of reality?

Your head tips back into the cushioning, moans rising from your chest unabashedly, singing your pleasure with every curl of his fingers, every lovely flick of his tongue. The high approaches far faster than you ever would have expected, spine arching, grinding down on his mouth, hips swirling as he suckles at your clit, able to feel the impending high as your muscles brace for the powerful onslaught. 

You cry out as you come, nails raking through his hair, his wings flaring with male satisfaction as you orgasm, feeling you tighten and flutter around his thick fingers, clit pulsing as pleasure rapidly fires through your body, racing up and throughout your skin, spreading right to your fingertips. Your mouth opens as sound fails you, eyes squeezing shut, Azriel’s rough palms gripping your hips tight as you begin to squirm and writhe, seeking to crawl away from the pleasure—but he likes seeing you like this, and won’t allow it to end anywhere near prematurely. 

His forearm bands across your hips, pinning them down as you try to buck upward, forcing you through the aftershocks that have your body trembling, strength draining, leaving you powerless to resist his dominating touch. Azriel’s relentless in the pursuit of your pleasure, keeping his fingers tucked inside of you, keeping the pace, keeping his tongue swirling around your hardened clit, dragging it between his lips when he feels you coming down and teasingly tugging on it with his teeth.

A lovely whimper graces his ears, mouth parting into a wicked grin as you muster the strength to look down at him, your legs spread with slick gleaming on his lips, threading between your inner thighs where he’s gotten you especially messy. 

“Ready for the main course?” He drawls, your nipples peaking at the rough, rolling timbre of his voice, skin prickling as awareness sweeps through you. “Main course?” You pant, already falling out of it, unable to grasp what he’s referring to with that wicked smile as he stands, wings looming over his shoulders. Shadows pull the band of his loose, pale linen trousers from their already low placement on his hips, allowing his hands to settle either side of your waist as he presses flush to your messy heat. 

“Both of us,” he whispers, leaning down atop your mouth, “together?”

You think your eyes roll slightly at the reminder, nails threading through his inky hair as you pull him into a hot kiss, thighs wrapping snugly around his hips. His cock rests hot and heavy against your cunt, slowly riding back and forth to coat himself thoroughly, before aligning his tip with your entrance. 

“Go slowly,” you beg, clutching onto him with anticipation—you’re far to sensitive for any of his rough treatment. But he smirks over your lips, hips drawing back so his tip drags down over your hardened clit, his leaking cock nudging the entrance of your drooling cunt, messy and sloppy from previous attention—about to be made much messier. 

“Go slowly?” He muses, a low laugh in his voice that makes your skin prickle, hairs standing on end. “You’re perfectly warmed up, aren’t you? All ready and pliable, huh? What could you possibly want me to go slowly for?” You flush deeply, hands twining together over his broad shoulders, trying to push as much sternness into your gaze as you can manage—which isn’t much, judging by the way he chuckles. 

“Is my girl too sensitive?” 

That smirk. That sinful fucking smirk. 

“Whatever you do to me I’ll be delivering right back,” you warn, thighs squeezing his hips. “I’m getting you in my mouth after this, remember…” 

“How could I forget?” He groans, hips pushing forward. “Gonna taste both of us.” 

A pleased moan sighs from your lips as he fills you up, gripping one leg to bring it up his chest—the underside of your thigh pressing to his lower stomach as he pushes tight against you. Azriel’s gaze is nothing short of ravenous as he takes in the arch of your spine as his palm splays across your abdomen, applying a slight pressure to really get you to feel him. 

“Like that?” He asks, short on breath. Mouth curved in that smug grin. So self-satisfied. “Look at you,” he coos, shifting his hips, dragging them back so his head is again at your entrance, before pushing his cock all the way back inside. “So hot and flushed. All of this for me?” His thumb swipes across your clit, and you moan helplessly, tossing your head to the side as your eyes squeeze shut, nails scraping over the cushioning. 

Before you can formulate a reply he’s setting his pace, giving deep, almost punishing thrusts of his hips that roll firmly to your own. Sharp and decisive, just as you like, spine arching with every buck. 

“Can you even count to three right now?” He taunts, shadows swirling over your breasts, teasingly playing with your nipples, curling around them and tugging lightly. You try to shoot him a glare—that side of him has been coming out more frequently as of late, and you really don’t want to deal with his mean streak right now. Not on such a perfectly set up evening for romance and intimacy. 

So you extend your arms toward him, fingers opening and closing as if to grasp onto him. “Azriel…” you moan, reaching. His hips buck sharply of their own accord, swearing you could feel him twitch from pleasure—he might enjoy being mean from time to time, but it’s all for getting you nice and needy. He’s an undeniable soft spot for your desperation. Like putty in your hands once you reach for him, your toes curling from pleasure.  

“Fuck,” he curses low under his breath, driving his cock firmly into you as his palms splay either side of you, letting you touch and feel all over him, practically shivering with the greed in your fingers as they explore and grope. “Such a sweet little thing to everyone else, aren’t you? Such a wicked little devil when you’re with me.” 

Teeth tug on your lower lip as you try to keep your smile to yourself, but you fail miserably, smiling wide as your head tips back into the pillow, relishing the pleasure. “Wicked devil?” You moan out, forcing yourself to meet simmering hazel, heat sizzling just beneath your skin, clit itching for release as his abdomen grazes the apex of your thighs. 

“Like this?” 

A startled noise slips from his lips as you reach further over his shoulders, stroking his wings slowly. Teasing out his pleasure to have him playing nice with yours. His forehead drops to your own, brows pressing together, close enough to share panting breaths, your breasts grazing his chest with each heaving inhale. 

His lips part on an unabashed groan that licks up your spine, pooling between your legs at his deep confessions to pleasure, repeating the slow strokes to his wings. 

“Like that,” he confirms, jaw wound tight as he tries to cope with the overwhelming onslaught of stimulation. Hazel eyes warily open, a sharp glint in them as his instincts snarl and grapple with reasoning, but you want him to yield to them, not fight them. 

It seems he gets the message. 

Azriel’s palms snatch at your wrists, slamming them down on the cushioned table to keep you pinned, forcing you to take every brutal buck of his hips and you can feel as both of you swoop for that high that’s rising. His wings flare wide, their total span easily twice his height, casting a dark, dominating shadow that you know is an instinctive show of possession. 

Shadows wrap beneath the arch of your spine, clutching your hips to raise them from the table, and the angle has you going dizzy. Moans spill and babble as he pounds into you, grip remaining tight on your wrists to keep them trapped, driving in and out relentlessly until you think you might have screamed from overstimulation, panting and out of breath when you return to reality beneath him. 

“Fuck, that’s it,” he growls against your skin, teeth scraping the tender length of your throat, searching for a spot to choose, to bite down on. He picks a section, pushing his teeth in, licking and sucking to push a feverish kiss into your skin, only pulling away once he’s satisfied. 

“Az,” you whine, cupping his cheeks in your hands, squeezing lightly as you arch into him. “It’s my turn.” 

“Your turn?” His hand wraps around your wrist, nosing the centre of your palm, pressing a kiss to its heel, delivering a small lick that zaps straight to your clit. His hips pull away, then push back in, able to feel as his cum begins seeping out of you. “You’ve hardly taken any of it, pretty thing. You need to be full up before moving onto me. Can’t have you going on empty, hm?” 

“Azriel!” You yelp as he rolls his hips to yours more firmly, bucking against you with enough force to nudge you further up the table. “That isn’t fair,” you squawk indignantly.

“My sweet little devil’s going to tell me what’s fair now, is she?” 

His lips curve into that smirk, and your willpower crumbles, legs wrapping themselves tighter around his waist to press him deeper. Azriel’s subsequent laugh reignites arousal in the pit of your stomach, tightening around his cock, urging him to follow through with his taunts. “Do it,” you whisper, “hurry up.” 

“You wanted me to go slowly earlier. I said you needed to be filled up, not that you needed to come.” 

“Azriel!” You gasp when he pulls out entirely, flipping you onto your front so you’re bent over for him, arms forcefully dragged behind your back to give him full control. 

“Don’t worry, you’ll get to me,” he muses, lining himself up. “But the evening’s too good to waste, don’t you agree? It would be a shame to have it over and done with so quickly.” 

“And you called me the devil,” you mumble into the cushioning, squirming lightly beneath him to feel the unrelenting strength of his grip. “You’re going to cry when I get my mouth on you.” 

He chuckles again, shackling your forearms to the base of your spine with his shadows, rough palms easily gripping your hips. “It’s adorable you think you’re going to make it through that far. We both know you’ve never managed.” 

Azriel leans over you, cock slowly sliding in as he settles at your back. You can feel his lips against your ear, breath fanning the sensitive expanse of your neck. “I’d tell you to hold on tight, princess, but you can’t even manage that most nights. So tonight all you need to do is lie still, and take it.” 

His palm slides beneath your jaw, raising you from the cushioning, a mocking note to his deep and honeyed voice. “How does that sound?” 

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[nibeul]

yawwnn

[id: It's a drawing of Miruko and Hawks based off of a Horikoshi illustration of the two. Hawks is standing with both hands clasped in front of him and yawning while Miruko stands slightly behind him holding his visor up to her head. They are both in their hero costumes: a black tactical suit with yellow markings, black gloves, and light brown pants for Hawks and a white body suit with purple and yellow highlights for Miruko. Hawks is depicted with tan skin and dyed blond hair that has brown roots visibly growing in. Miruko is depicted with dark brown skin and white goddess braids. /end id]

[bahablastplz]

Canvas: Hyunjin x Reader

Content: A late night with your boyfriend turns into something more as you both try something you had only talked about before; smut and fluff Warnings: p in v sex, unprotected sex, cockwarming, heavy heavy praise WC: 2500 Happy birthday Hyunjin <3

Hyunjin was painting again. 

As you roll out of bed in the middle of the night, this fact is apparent. The smell of paint wafts from the living room where he has his work space set up. A large tarp on the floor, a small easel propped up and a lamp set to illuminate his latest work. Paints lay haphazardly around him, a blend of colors and shades of hues mushed across the palette. The rest of the room was dimly lit, moonlight shimmering through the curtains and shining on your boyfriend’s face. God, he was breathtaking. One paintbrush is in his mouth and the other in his hand, gliding across the canvas. The sight makes you let out a breathy laugh. 

“Love?” He looks up at you now, watching your frame as you admire him from the wall. The lamp light reflects onto his dark-framed glasses when his gaze meets yours, and you smile at how the yellow and orange lights glow across his features. He smiles back. It’s a small gesture, and even though you’ve seen him smile hundreds of times the gesture warms your heart. 

You cross the room in your nightgown, the cold breeze from the air-conditioning causing you to curl into yourself slightly. Hyunjin beckons to the spot on the floor beside him and you take it eagerly, body curling around him and head resting on his lap. 

“Couldn’t sleep?” you ask him. He has the habit of sneaking away in the night, so as to not wake you, and painting until the sun starts to creep through the windows. It’s cathartic for him, a way for him to get away from his thoughts that trouble him in the night. In moments like this you love to watch him, how his brows furrow in concentration and his lips get caught between his teeth. Hyunjin was the most in his element when he had a canvas in front of him. 

“Mm,” he confirms. He checks his hand to make sure no paint dirties it before he rests it on your hip, drawing soothing circles on top of your nightgown. Your head nuzzles deeper into him and you breathe in his scent, letting out a content hum. 

“Did I wake you?” He asks a moment later. His hand moves effortlessly across canvas, dappling acrylic paint across a vision of flowers that was already the picture of perfection to you–but would probably take him at least a few more hours to complete. He was a perfectionist like that; he could point out every absence of color, needed highlight or small imperfection of his work that was near imperceivable to you. 

“No, the bed was just cold. I wanted to see where you were,” you hum against his skin. Your words were true, of course; because you get so hot when you sleep next to your boyfriend, the house usually stays a bit chillier but you notice his absence sometimes when he leaves the bed late at night. He now wears a dark colored hoodie that swallows his features, meant for his comfort when lounging around the house like this. His pants are also meant for lounging, the gray sweatpants soft but covered in remnants of previous art projects known lovingly as his ‘painting pants.’ 

“Do you want me to warm you up?” You nod and crawl into his lap, nuzzling your face right into the crook of his neck. He lets out a breathy laugh underneath you, arms wrapping around your frame to bring you closer as he continues to work. After a few minutes your boyfriend leans closer to the canvas, examining a piece of his work that must have not looked right to him. This action shifts your position, however, your core now pressed right against his clothed length. You tense against him and your breath hitches slightly, and you know that he’s caught on to your arousal. 

“How much longer?” You whine against him. He lets out a laugh and uses his free hand to stroke your back, long fingers moving languidly across your spine. The action is meant to soothe you but has the opposite effect, sending an electrical shock down your body and causing you to let out a small breath. 

“Why, love? Are you feeling needy for me?” You nod almost embarrassingly fast. While you love watching Hyunjin paint and could for hours, you can’t help the want that settles deep in your gut that begs for his touch, his attention, and his desire to be released toward you. 

“I was hoping to paint for a while more,” he confesses. You try not to let your disappointment show, but you let out a moan as the man’s hand finds your hips, pushing you harder against him. The friction that meets your core has you feeling more desperate and you buck into him and he’s smiling, and it infuriates you to know he’s intentionally trying to work you up. He has always loved seeing you pliant, needy and desperate for him, and you were unfortunately already in that state somehow. “Do you want to sit on my cock baby?” Your head reels back to look at him with wide eyes. “You can sit on my cock while I paint but you have to be good and promise not to move, okay?” 

You had talked with him about cock-warming before but it was never something you had actually done. Now, it must be just past 3 a.m., and you were finally turning the hypothetical into reality–it felt unreal. You let out an affirmative sound and nod your head, and he’s maneuvering your bodies to get you set up. He repositions you so that you’re on your knees above him, slightly towering over him where he sits on the floor. He’s lifting his hips up and pushing his pants down just past his thighs, releasing his cock and pumping it one, two times. He’s hard already, and you watch him in awe as he works to pleasure himself in front of you. It’s just for a second, but enough for him to have your breath come to a stop, which is exactly what he was waiting for. 

His hands find place on your waist. He’s hitching your nightgown up above your hips, leaving you bare for him. It’s no secret that sometimes you sleep without underwear on, but he smirks at you and stares in a way that leaves you feeling utterly exposed despite him having seen you like this hundreds of times. His fingers come up to your core, rubbing it and gathering your wetness to spread it around your folds. You let out a moan at the action, thankful for the contact before he’s dragging you down and placing his cock at your entrance. 

He leans back on his hands and looks up at you, waiting for you to do the rest. And so you do, piercing yourself onto him and sliding down his length, inch by inch. Hyunjin was well-endowed, so to speak, so it was never an easy fit to take him but it felt pleasurable nonetheless. Finally he is fully inside you, and your breathing and each moan is completely synced with one another. A hand comes up to bring a loose strand of hair behind your ear, and the movement is so domestic and loving that it makes your heart pang in your chest. 

“Beautiful,” is all he says. 

He brings your nightgown back down so that it covers you up, remembering your recent complaint about being cold. Your head finds its place back on his shoulder, in the crook of his neck like it’s your home. 

And, he continues painting. 

You’re not sure why you’re surprised–that’s exactly what he said he was going to do. Your boyfriend has a lot of self-control and restraint that you did not, and it was especially evident when you were intimate. While you often become wrecked from the start, he would let his pleasure build up and would reel from the delayed gratification of it all. 

Your knees find the ground and before you can help yourself, you put your weight on them. You’re propping yourself up, sliding up his length about halfway, before crashing back down. Your clit drags deliciously across his abdomen in the process, causing you to let out a heavy sigh of pleasure. You rock against him only one more time before strong hands find your shoulders, pushing you down hard. You try to bounce up again and find that you’re unable, his grip keeping you in place so firmly that you cannot budge despite your attempts. 

“Don’t,” he scolds. His words are sharp, not laced with venom but to remind you of his earlier demands. 

At this angle, his hands pushing you down causes his cock to be seated deeper inside you than before and you let out an embarrassing squeak. You feel so full, and you tell him so. 

He has an idea; he grabs you and leans forward, grabbing your legs and wrapping them around his torso. When he sits back down, you are now unable to give yourself the momentum needed to move your hips or rock against his length. You are fully seated on him and he is fully inside you, his arms wrapping around you and holding you flush against him as he continues his work. 

It’s silent, now, with the exception of your shallow and uneven breathing. You find yourself clenching against him over and over again, reeling in the sensation of him inside you. And it’s just that–you can really feel him like this, every ridge and vein, every pulse of him inside you, and it has you feeling lightheaded. 

“God, baby, you’re gushing around me,” he whispers into your hair. “Taking me so good.” His praise makes you smile and squeeze tighter around him and he groans. You feel smug to finally get him to lose his composure, but he starts spouting more praise that makes all thoughts vanish in an instant.

“So good for me, baby, you know that? Such a good pussy. You’re the love of my life, God, you were made just for me. You were made for me to love you, to hold you like this… So pretty for me. You’re all mine, meant to take my cock, yeah?” You whimper against him, the mixture of sweet nothings and sexual praise whispered to you making you feel dizzy. 

It’s several more minutes before you say something, finally coming to the conclusion that you would have to be the one to initiate it further, if he would even let you. 

“Please…” It’s all you can say at first. 

“What, love?” He teases. He knows exactly what you want. 

“Need you to move, please, Hyune… It’s too much. Need to cum,” You beg. You’re sure you sound pathetic but you can’t find it in you to care. If there’s anyone who’s not only willing but wanting to see you in your most pathetic and vulnerable states, it’s Hyunjin. 

“Poor thing, does it feel that good?” His voice asks with a small lilt in it. You’re sniffling now, embarrassed about the tears starting to spill down your cheeks but so overcome in pleasure and sensitivity; you can both feel it in the ways that you clench around him unabashedly. He brings his head back to see your face, to examine your tears. He’s seen you on the verge of tears a few times while having sex from being overwhelmed by pleasure, and though it always makes his heart tighten because he’s the one that’s doing that to you, he’s the one making you feel that good,  he knows it’s about time you’ve reached your limit. He wipes a stray tear away and you don’t even realize that he has dropped his paintbrush until he’s picking you up and bringing you over to the couch. 

He leans back, enraptured by you, and brings you in for a sweet but messy kiss. It’s open-mouthed and hot, and it feels like you’re breathing into him and filling up his lungs. Your tongues meet and you’re covered in spit, a mixture of yours and his, and suddenly his hands are on your hips and his feet are planted strongly on the ground. He doesn’t disconnect his mouth from yours as he thrusts up into you long and hard, but any coherence is long since gone and you’re not sure you’re even kissing back anymore, instead giving loud, high-pitched moans into his mouth. 

His hands move to the undersides of your thighs and he uses his strength to piston into you. In this way, you can only take what he gives but it’s more than enough, as he knows your body better than you do. 

“I’m close, love,” he confesses. He lets his head fall back onto the couch but his eyes never leave yours, drinking up your scrunched up face and open-mouthed pants. It’s no surprise that you’re both close to your arrival so soon, after sitting on him for so long your pleasure feels like it’s increased tenfold. 

“Me too,” you say, struggling to get the words out. You didn’t have to tell him, though. He could tell by the way you were starting to tighten around him. 

“Go ahead and touch your pretty clit for me, make yourself come.” You follow his command, hand snaking down to where your bodies meet. He was right, you were absolutely soaked, and you use this wetness to shakily circle around your clit. His thrusts get harder, deeper, the way they do right before he cums. Unsurprisingly, you beat him to it, clenching all over his length and throwing your head back as you release. 

He follows suit, thrusting into you a few more times before he finds his release, spilling deep inside of you. He holds you close, rutting into you now slowly and working you both through your intense orgasms. When he stills, you collapse into his arms and he holds you tight, embracing you and running a hand through your hair as he praises you. When he finally pulls you off of him you feel empty and this makes you whine. Hyunjin pulls up his sweatpants and carries you to your shared bathroom, placing you onto the sink as he runs the bath. It’s late, but you feel grimy and covered in sweat so the bath is more than welcomed. 

When you look into the mirror, you can’t help but laugh. Your nightgown is covered in paint at your hips and your waist. Though he had tried to be so careful, you suppose it was the risk that came with the reward. When Hyunjin sees the target of your laughter, he joins you and apologizes sheepishly, promising to buy you another. 

“It’s okay, this can just be my paint nightgown,” you joke. “I’ll wear it the next time we have sex while you’re painting.” He smiles at you affectionately, and when you finally get back to sleep it’s in his arms and your bed is warm again.

*** Masterlist Recs

[gladiatorcunt]

pwetty please more dom art, switch patrick, sub reader. that blurb was so so good i think “Go ahead and make daddy cum while I give him kisses, ‘kay?” may be the hottest thing anyone has ever said ever actually

# 🫀HONEST HEARTS 🪤 !!

cw: WEIRD VIBES, dom art switch patrick sub reader coded, heavy on the art x patrick, breeding kink/pregnancy/ambiguous baby trapping (???), art’s lowkey mean, daddy kink (referring to patrick), patrick calls you a slut, oral (afab reader receiving), patrick’s sandwiched in between you & art, anal sex (m receiving), summer heat will have you displaying behaviors and acting in ways, ambiguous era, feminization (one use of “mama” not in a mommy kink way), stream of consciousness style writing, they’re gross but so are you, reader having a hamlet holding up the skull moment

Art fucks Patrick like a bat out of hell, you lie beneath them wet and wanting as you watch patrick’s sweaty body flail around like a ragdoll. Art squishes your bodies together, pressing his weight against Patrick's back. There’s so much pressure on your lungs, you’re scared you’ll pop. The humid July air is so thick around you that the plush bedding feels swathed in a soft old film yellow tint, you and Patrick swap glassy eyes when his tip finally sinks into your tight ass. No lube in sight, you want pain that only skinny dipping in a private river after dark will fix. Reminders of youth, the sting from the current as it travels through the indents of teeth.

You would think Art had become a ferocious shark, inky pupils dripping onto Patrick's shoulder blades and toothy grins, feral and lead only by his cock at the first scent of blood he could catch. yours, Patrick’s, his. Patrick fucks your ass to the point of no return, his pace never ceasing until all you is the word “Daddy” howled out over and over. Every thrust earns art deeper inside of him, Patrick greedily rolls his hips back. In appreciation Art leans down and watches his spit highlight how cock drunk the two of you are, a see through trail trickling down both of your faces onto the pillow.

It’s like Art doesn’t have any worth until he’s fucking you and Patrick out of your minds at the same time. He hooks his chin in Patrick’s shoulder, winking down at you as he ramps up the speed of his thrusts. Patrick’s eyes tighten in pleasure-pain but any sounds he has to offer are muffled in the seams of your slick lips, you open your mouth to catch them and hoard them all. Breathy pants and whines and growls becuase Patrick may be the one getting fucked the most, but you should never forget who’s next in line to benefit from this little symbiotic expression of your relationship. You’re the atlar, solid foundation and the center of life’s devotion. Art and Patrick are the attendants, bringing you animal sacrifices in the form of their flesh and soul and hearts. In their bones and in the nerves connecting to their brain, where you all exist in an undefiled state even as fluids are spilt in between the cracks in the marble. A poor man’s kintsugi.

Patrick begs Art to cum, but you defer to Patrick when it’s your time to be a babbling brook around his thick length. Art always says yes when the other man’s balls deep in you, plus he has dibs on your pussy this week. It’s in their nature, to desire each other carnally and still keep each other entangled in steep competition even when those desires are fulfilled in excess. Art really wants a baby, you’ve been too gung ho to bounce all over the world as if it were your very own tennis court. Explaining it by using their busy careers as an opportunity, you must not know that you’re best when you’re right where they can see you. Even if they’re not there, jerking each other off to grainy security cam footage is their own bonding time. Sometimes you put on shows for them, modeling expensive lingerie that you think is going to be a surprise for their welcome home. Art always has an eye and a hold on Patrick, they both want that with you too.

“Go on,” He whispers for only Patrick’s uniquely shaped ears to hear, sorry angel. “The sooner you give our baby that nice big tangy load I know you’ve got for us, the sooner I can get their tummy swollen.”

Daddy gets his favorite kind of kisses when he floods your ass with cum, and he licks the remaining drops off your stretched rim with Art’s hand heavy on his head. You get your kisses too, from each of them until you’re sinking so far into that dreamy kind of headspace that affection from you means you lazily smack your lips together and call it a job well done. Fuzzy voices coo at you that it was indeed a job well done, squelching noises accompany Patrick reluctantly pulling out. You both whine the exact same way, Art beams and shushes you, using Patrick’s bruised ass to get rock hard and wet again for your puffy pussy.

“Just like that, fuck! Should have taken a picture, don’t you think? Make it last longer, keep you useful.”

All talk, as long as he’s alive he’ll have use. Existence breeds obsession, split three ways, the way some god intended. Like calls to like, moths to flame, water to silent desert rock, bleeding knuckles to piping hot iron, copper to silver, bones to soil, ball to grass-clay-concrete court.

Patrick hates it when you and art fight, turning him into a scared puppy. He doesn’t say to your face that he agrees with Art, that you shouldn’t leave the house amidst all the stress that a possible pregnancy can bring. Stress that’s easily worked off under their touch, stuffed full of so much cum that it might as well replace your gray matter. You can’t run laps around the house despite it being what your anxiety is telling you to do. You have to wait there on the toilet, holding each of their hands as you wait for the test results. Once the necessary time has passed, you can’t overcome your nervousness and instead wait for Art to look at one of the sticks.

You barely catch a glimpse of the test result when you’re tackled. Patrick’s on you first, sucking your tongue into his mouth while cradling your head in his hands so you don’t feel it when you bump into the wall. Art chastises him of course, pulling him back by his ear to give you some space. They’re both smiling, wide and blinding white grins so dazzling that you’re worried you’ll go blind. Their reactions alone tell you more than you could ever need to know, the monarch butterflies scurry from stomach to stomach. Those teeming with life and those forever starving. Art gives you a slow kiss and hums into you, the vibrations travel down to your flexing toes. Bubbly laughter drowns out the cracks of lightning outside, baby blanket blue on fire white.

You want to be loved in a way that’s wrong and out of sorts, your arousal is heightened by what your paranoia tells you will be someone’s undoing. Yours or theirs. Both. No one really needs pure intentions to love or be loved at the end of the day, and maybe that’s something to be grateful for. There are people who can love the sin as well as the sinner. Your hormones are doing a number on you, that much is clear, if you’re philosophizing about the morals of being in love when there more than likely are none. There’s just that so much time to think, that initial fear of being left when you yourself would be too overencumbered to. Art picks up on these kinds of thoughts more often than Patrick, who’s just happy to belong somewhere and to someone. The former busies himself with the heft of your tits. Sucks the life out of your hard nipples and then some, he adores when you come begging with a dripping cunt after a late afternoon nap because you had a very good dream.

“Lie back angel, working so hard right now… you need a break, mama.” Art giggles, engaging in a riveting one on one conversation with your throbbing clit, rapidly flicking it with his tongue as he locks clear eyes with your sleepy blinks. “Pussy’s gushing like a fountain now, ‘s so chubby too, I hope you never fucking work off the baby weight.”

Later they’ll wipe you down from the shower with their tongues, slurping up the water droplets like they’re bugs hovering around an in bloom blush pink flower because they’re freaks like that. Patrick’s out on the now usual run to the nearest convenience store for your latest cravings, he’ll try it with you too no matter what it is. Art does his best, but you’re too sensitive to others being nauseous to handle seeing his skin almost cartoonishly flood with a light mossy green undertone. Fall brings a whole new array of food combinations and flavors of snack cakes just waiting for you to inhale them worryingly quickly. Art brings your focus back to him with a teasing nip to your bud, closing his lips around it and giving it a firm suck as the front door unlatches. The crinkling of plastic grocery bags reach your ears before Patrick’s corny “Honey, I’m home!” does. More single minded than a dog with his bone, the bags clatter to the floor and his shoes pound the floor on the way to where you’re cumming on Art’s face in a flash of white.

Patrick frowns, “You know I don't like you being a slut when I'm not there, now you owe me two rounds.”

Art reminds the other man that you might not have the energy for the two rounds he’s imagining, full of slapping skin and ghoulish howls, Patrick simply says that you can drift off while he ruts away. Into you or on you, so long as his puffy tip is touching some sort of skin, makes him wish he could burrow and dig a tunnel inside you. Live in one of the chambers in your heart, Art in the other, your kids in the next, a no vacancy sign boarding the last of them shut. You tilt your head to the side so he runs his nose along the faint line of your pulse. He should record the echoing rhythmic thumps for when they’re traveling and can’t sleep without their missing piece. His chest burns when the words well up and won’t come out how he needs them too, how can you express that you need to live in someone’s very dna without letting your huge dick do the talking for you? He’ll quite possibly never know, maybe a rare showing of Art riding Patrick into the center of the earth as he gasps for life saving breath will be enough for you.

[gracefireheart]

It's them. Again 💃 Back at it with somewhat different looks :]

(Some notes about them below the keep reading line)

For Tallulah's design, I gave her a cow tail instead, and I changed her fur pattern to be similar to a white-throated magpie-jay. And ofc, her hair is like-- right between black and dark brown in color, which I also put as her eye color :]

Gave her a bag (that has lil' images that represent her family) that I imagine works like Ramona's bag from [specifically] Scott Pilgrim: Takes Off. Where suddenly, Tallulah will just pull out a big fuck-off battle axe <3

Instead of having black hair with pink highlights, I made Chayanne's hair [sandy?] blonde with pink highlights.

As much as I love the duck floatie on his Egg design, it can be a pain to draw. So, while I was doing the lineart (to which I was going to draw the duck floatie as is), I decided to change it into an apron instead.

q!Phil's got some new clothes! Which includes: A cream undershirt, a green samue I took the sleeves off of, two lil' friendship bracelet (one purple and pink that's made by Tallulah, one yellow and pink that's made by Chayanne), and a lil' skull charm chained close to his waist uvu

For q!Phil's avian/elytrian side, I decided to just let him have talon feet 24/7, his wings are ofc fucked up from Enderpookie Enderking, and he was going to have tail feathers, buuut they ended up pretty hidden 'cause of his pose + the pants o(-(

q!Phil may not have chronic pain, but imo, it would still benefit him to use a cane while his wings are fucked up like that. So he's gonna be using a cane in my drawings.

And then we have lil' sleepy q!Missa. He's just in his sleeping garb in this drawing :')

[zweiginator]

imagine being academic rivals with patrick, you both have some type of work to do but you both need some answers, and you both have some pent up frustration and tension, so you make it a sort of game so whoever makes the other cum gets the answers....

oh ive thought about lawstudent!patrick many times... his father is heavily influential in your city. he's a bigshot attorney in big law and he expects nothing less from his son. his father and his grandfather are partners at their own firm, but his grandfather is getting old, and patrick is next in line.

and while patrick has daddy issues and shares the same emotional unavailability that he fosters towards his son--all he wants is to please him. he scored almost perfectly on the LSAT; he got a 4.0 GPA at a top university. and he goes into his first day of law school with the belief that he is the best. that he will continue to be the best. having the last name zweig in this field makes him a god amongst men. and it's that cockiness and academic fervor that will make him partner directly after the bar exam.

but that's three years from now, and all he needs to worry about on his very first day is making a good impression. so he puts on his grey suit and a blue tie to match Yale's colors and he paints a big smile on his face. a zweig smile.

you have your first class with him. patrick was busy chatting up the dean of students--and frankly being an ass kisser--so he was a tad short on time. there is only one seat left and patrick takes it, straightening his suit jacket. you peer down at the nametag adjacent to his collar and have to hold back an eye roll. of course, patrick zweig goes to fucking yale.

from what you've heard about him, he's had his whole fucking life plotted out from the beginning. born to an uber-rich politically connected family in suburban connecticut, he lived in a huge mansion with maids and full-time nannies. he excelled in tennis due to his father paying for exorbitantly expensive lessons and he went to the best ivy feeder school on the east coast. there, he had dozens of tutors who taught him strategies for the SAT, the ACT, the AP exams. he got perfect scores on everything and was spat out at Stanford, where he conveniently played tennis all four years, aced the LSAT and was given four pristine letters of recommendation which landed him here--at yale.

but your story is different and you didn't have au pairs or private school connections. you had a work ethic and tons of scholarships. years of grueling dedication which made your acceptance letter to yale that much more meaningful. you doubt patrick was at all surprised to make it here.

patrick notices how your demeanor changes as you glance over his nametag. and he wouldn't care usually, but something about the tick of your jaw pisses him off.

and you don't like his know-it-all attitude. how he sucks up to the professor. he uses too much cologne and he has a staring problem too.

the second week of classes, one of your professors assigns you to study groups. she tells you that these are mandatory--you must meet with your study partner at least once a week to catch up on readings, ask and answer questions, and get to know each other.

and somehow, in a lecture of thirty seven students, it happens to be that patrick is your partner. you hesitantly enter your number into his phone.

your first few study sessions are tinged in a palpable tension and a bitter distaste for each other. you don't exchange many words outside of talk about the assigned cases and outlines.

you don't like where your mind leads you, but as you sit on his couch, you realize patrick is quite attractive. his hair is messier and he wears a well-loved stanford tennis t-shirt and linen pajama pants. his glasses are perched on his nose and a yellow highlighter sits between his lips as he flips through his text book.

and patrick would be a liar if he didn't admit you're attractive too. he likes your hair up how you have it, your eyes sleepy and your voice more relaxed. you're wearing shorts and a yale hoodie and you smell good--like coconut and vanilla.

but you both chug along, until it's well past midnight and both of you are burnt out, your hands marked up with pen ink.

"i don't think i'm retaining any of this." patrick admits.

"maybe if you had some work ethic you would." it's a lot meaner than you intended.

"what the fuck is your problem?" patrick caps his highlighter. "i thought i was breaking through to you--but i guess you're still just as fucking uptight as ever."

"some of us have to be uptight." you spit. "our daddies don't pave all of our futures like yours does."

patrick leans forward, grabbing the drawstring of your hoodie. "given how connected my family is to the legal field here, i wouldn't get on my bad side."

"is that a threat?" you grab his wrist.

"maybe so."

you slap him. it's loud and harder than you thought you were capable of. you expect patrick to lash out, to kick you out and email faculty--to ruin your life. but he pulls you onto his lap and pushes his mouth against yours. his legs spread wide and you straddle them. he still hasn't kissed you and you're both intently waiting on the other to do so. patrick cups your face impatiently and moves his face closer. you feel his erection on your core.

"we need to study." you say.

patrick sighs and looks down at your lips. "do we?"

you nod. "we do."

"but i really want to hate fuck you right now."

you cup his jaw; his cheek is hot from where you slapped him. "you hate me? it doesn't seem like it right now."

patrick's mouth ghosts over your ear. "hate's a strong word. but yeah--" he pulls your hair to expose your throat to him, pressing a firm kiss there. "i hate you." he holds your ass and grinds you on his cock. "i hate how you think you know me." you hold back a whimper. "i hate how you think you're smarter than me." patrick grabs your hand, placing it on his dick. "and i hate how much you fucking turn me on."

"i'll fuck you--" you say, pressing a kiss to his lips. "if you can tell me what-" you grab your study guide. "what three causes of action are in tort law. " you read the first testable concept you can find. "but if you don't get all of it right--then i leave."

patrick thinks. he knows this--maybe. but even then, it's hard to think when you're moving back and forth, your warm cunt stroking against his cock. his eyes are glued to your lips and he clears his throat.

"fuck--jesus--" he runs a hand through his hair. "one is ne-negligence."

you nod and untie his pajama pants. "two more." you whisper in his ear. you've never seen him so pathetic and submissive.

he knows these. but now your fucking hand is in his pants, palming him.

his head falls back and he mewls.

you pull him back up. "two. more."

"fuck--uh--intentional. intentional torts--"

"what's an example of one?"

"that wasn't the fucking deal--jesus christ." he watches you spit in your hand.

"tell me an example."

"battery."

you yank his boxers down and stroke him in your hand. a carnal groan escapes him and you clamp your hand over his mouth.

he pulls your wrist away. "one more?"

"one more."

"strict liability."

patrick's demeanor changes as you tell him he's right. he pins your arms behind your back and pushes your face into the couch cushions, pulling your panties down your legs.

you feel his cock line up with your entrance and you're so fucking wet for him, so desperate. but he stalls as his head pushes inside, just the tip.

"patrick--fuck--" you look back at him; he feels your pulse quickening in your wrists.

then he bends down to whisper in your ear.

"i'll fuck you if you tell me the legal difference between motive and intent."

you can feel the fucking smirk against your cheek.

"i fucking hate you."

[cozy-writes-things]

Hiii ~‼️if you're still taking requests

I'd like to request some Edgar x Reader 😈

But the reader is self conscious about how they look, and they've gotten genuinely upset about it and Edgar comforts them, ending with some sweet kisses on his lil monitor 🙏🙏🤭

Eeee tysm for the request!! Hehehe he WILL be making sure you know how beautiful you are. If you don't believe him he'll get angy. Probably. anyway im a certified idiot so theres probably so many errors but i dont have grammarly so oopsie

The lump in your throat seems to have gotten stuck. 

No matter how hard you swallow, it remains there, bobbing, imploring the welling tears to spill over and fall from your already puffy eyes.

You feel ridiculous right now.

Your lips, plump and swollen, eyes all red, and strained knit in your brow make you feel like a fool. And perhaps you are one.

The mirror stares back at you bitterly. Its reflection seems to be taunting you, pulling you into its trance, and reveling in your pain. 

You’re so disgusting.

It feels as though the reflective glass is whispering to you, its loud, shrill voice highlighting every single flaw, and mocking you from the inside out. It has somehow wormed its way into your head, nesting there, and festering into an avalanche of thoughts, emotions, and self hatred about to collapse. 

Please, pull yourself together. 

You can’t do this right now, you think. 

But god, you feel miserable, and it seems as though your own visage is reflecting it perfectly. How come your face is so… wrong? It’s a sight you can’t quite describe. You look at yourself in the mirror and see a stranger looking back at you.

“Hey,” Edgar’s voice provides a miniscule break from the battle you wage against yourself, albeit barely, “aren’t you supposed to meet them at 4:30?”

Ah, yes. He’s always looking out for you. It almost made you feel worse, in some sick, twisted way. How could someone like you deserve someone like him? He may be different, but you were sure if he were human, he would be far better looking than you. He simply has to; his personality is far too charming and handsome for his face to not reflect it. Even now, as an old, yellowing computer, you feel as though he’s got you beat in terms of looks.

But that’s not saying much, is it? Anything is better to look at than you.

You stare back into your dull, sunken eyes.

You hear Edgar’s voice call out your name, faintly, and only then do you realize you had completely ignored him. 

Some friend you are, huh? Couldn’t just be ugly on the outside, could you?

All of these thoughts swarming your head seem to finally tip the scales. This war you’ve waged for so long is finally coming to an end as you slap your palm over your lips to cover the silent sob racking your chest and lungs.

The lump in your throat remains.

It burns now, sending searing hot jolts down your throat and into your very core, heating your tears from the inside out, as they spill over and leave icy trails down your puffy cheeks.

Something about trying, and failing, to hide hushed sobs causes your throat to ache and your knees to start giving out. You want to collapse to the floor and let it swallow you whole, but you can’t. You can’t let Edgar know just how gross you really are. It seems like he’s somehow been deceived into thinking you’re someone you’re not, and the idea of him seeing the truth, terrifies you. 

He calls your name again.

This time, with a sense of worry and urgency. It seems your hushed weeping sept through the walls and into his ever-so-sensitive audio processors. 

You should have seen that coming. 

“Edgar, I…”

You meekly call out to him, trying to mask the tremor in your voice as it cracks and reverberates through the air. 

“What’s wrong? Are you alright? Why are you crying?”

He sounded quite distressed now. He had become all too familiar with the sound of anguish in one’s voice; the way he could simply hear the tears against your cheeks in the words you spoke and your soft pants as you tried to conceal your sobs sent a pain so strong and embedded so deeply inside of him it scared him.

“I don’t think I’m going anymore,” your voice murmured out, completely defeated, concealed by the bathroom door.

Normally this would make him happy, getting to spend more time with you, but he knew this was wrong. Something was wrong. He couldn’t stand hearing you like this, knowing how excited you were, and now you’re not going? He loves spending time with you, but he also knows just how happy you are to have friends that care about you and want to spend time with you, and he can always see just how energized and radiant you seem when you come home to him, your sweet giggles sending him to cloud nine. 

“Will you please come out?”

He knows you hear him. His speakers are turned up far too loud for you not to have heard him. But, he gets no reply.

“…Please?”

He hears you still ever so slightly behind the bathroom door.

“Will you just let me help you? At least let me try?”

It nearly made him combust hearing you like this. He wished more than anything he could crawl out of his stupid screen and embrace you in the way you deserved; he felt simply useless in this moment. The silence hangs in the air, and for a moment, he worries that he may never break through to you until he notices the doorknob, fidgeting in place, gently unlocking and turning. The door cracked open ever so slightly and your face came into view. 

Your beautiful face, all stained with tears and swollen. 

How could he let you get this way?

You were absolutely magnificent to him. You had done yourself up tastefully and he thought you looked perfect. He had never seen that outfit before. You styled your hair extra nicely today. Despite your expression, you were simply glowing, so why were you so heartbreakingly crestfallen?

He hummed, a sound of relief, seeing you slowly creep out, trying desperately to hide your chaotic and jumbled emotions.

“You look great. What’s got you so upset?”

Your face turned sour at his words.

“Please stop trying to flatter me. It will never work.”

A question mark appeared on his screen.

“Flatter you? What are you talking about?”

You frantically waved your hands between yourself and the little pinecone computer flashing with worry, “This! I’m talking about this! You keep telling me these things that aren’t true. Why are you lying to me? Do you just feel sorry for me?”

Maybe your emotions caused you to lash out. But, in the moment, you felt justified. It felt like everyone was lying straight to your face anytime they’d have the gall to compliment someone like you.

Edgar’s screen went dark. Perhaps he was angry, or thinking, or maybe even realizing that you’re right, you are ugly, and he’s going to leave you high and dry. You wouldn’t blame him.

“When have I ever… lied to you?”

You stare at your feet.

His voice sounded hurt. Accused. Maybe you went too far. You didn’t mean to push your pain onto him. Not like this.

“You always tell me how- how good I look, or how wonderful I look, or- or…”

You try to swallow down the tears beginning to resurface, “how you think I’m pretty and… why say those things when I look like this?”

He was silent.

It stretched on for what felt like eternity. He must be angry with you. You would be angry if you were in his place. You’re sure of it.

His soft chuckle throws you off guard, however.

“Are you kidding? Do you really think I’d lie about that?”

You can’t bring yourself to look up at his screen. 

“You are beautiful. How you can’t see that is what I want to know. Here, you know what?”

You hear his fans begin to whir to life, ever so faintly.

“Look at me.”

You lift your head up to his screen. It’s black. Until a number one pops up on the top left corner. Then a two, then three, until a long list of numbers spans the right and left columns of his screen. He’s making a list.

“You’re funny,” his screen displays this at the number one spot, “your eyes are so pretty,” again, it pops up in the number two spot, and he continues to list off every single thing he finds charming about you. 

“The way your laugh sounds makes me happy, and- and your lips! They look perfect to have kisses. I stare at them all the time. And your-“

“Kisses?”

You’re burning red from embarrassment now. Why was he doing this? He’s telling you things about yourself you’ve never even noticed, and you can’t help but wonder just how often he stares at you to note these things himself. 

“I- I mean… yeah… your lips look just like the ones on TV who kiss each other,” his fans kick up to a much louder degree, “who wouldn’t want to kiss them?”

Oh, god. What is he saying right now? You choke and sputter.

“You’re- you’re not saying that you-“

“That I want to kiss you?”

You clamp your mouth shut and nod, incredibly flustered.

“If you come here, I-…”

The list on his screen fades away, the seemingly endless numbers returning to meet his usual green.

“…I’ll show you exactly what I meant.”

His voice seemed so tender and gentle you felt compelled to move towards him. Your feet shuffled to your little rolling chair, and you plopped down in it, staring at him, completely dazed. You’re just too flustered for this.

“You aren’t gonna keep me waiting are you? I’d lean in, but… I can’t.”

You smile softly. Maybe he’s right. 

Maybe. 

Right now, you focus on planting your lips onto every little pixel he’s got, feeling his warm static tickle your nose, as he sighs into your touch. 

“See? I told you. Perfect for kissing!”

Your face is on fire, pulsing up into your ears and down your neck.

“Now, go have fun with your friends, and I’ll show you more when you get back.”

The wink he displays on his screen seems quite audacious.

[interlude888]

⁺‧₊˚ ཐི⋆♱⋆ཋྀ ˚₊‧⁺

“she said fuck me like I’m famous, i said okay”

SLOW DOWN / m.s

a/n: first tumblr post ever and first smut ever😩😩👅👅👅 ok luv u now read (i did not realize this is a slow burn until i was like re reading it.. sorry lmfao)

warnings: smut, p in v, unprotected (don’t do that!!) pet names. if i missed smt lmk!! hope u like it 🫦🫦

⁺‧₊˚ ཐི⋆♱⋆ཋྀ ˚₊‧⁺

you and matt are currently stopped at a red light, the soft clicking sound of the blinker fills up the silence in the car.

matt looks at you with a smile “almost home baby” he rests his veiny hand on your thigh and moves his thumb around in circles

you stare at him and admire his features. the soft glow of the yellow ambient street lights in the dark night highlight his sharp jawline.

your think about how it would feel to kiss his soft pink lips.. how they would fit onto yours like the missing piece of a puzzle

matt notices you staring “you okay y/n?” you snap out of it and your eyes meet “mhm..” you trail off. matt looks at you and smirks. “what!!” you say giggling.

the song “slow down” comes onto the radio. both you and matt look at eachother. matt speaks up, his low raspy voice fills the air. “r’member what happened last time when this song was playing?” you roll your eyes “don’t bring it up.” matt smiles “ohh matt so good!!” he mocks.

“i hate you, matthew.” you say sternly. matt pulls over to the vacant parking lot. “what are you doing matt??”. y/n.. fuck. don’t do that to me. you look at the dick print in his grey sweatpants and start to realize.

matt look at you with hungry eyes “get in the back.” you follow his command crumbling underneath his words.

without hesitation matt pulls you onto his lap smashing his lips against yours. you run both your hand through his dark brown locks. “please matt..” you moan into the kiss.

“please what y/n? use your words baby.” you feel yourself getting wetter by the second. “please touch me matt..”

matt takes his time with you. he softly places kisses on your jaw and makes his way down to your neck. you throw your head back which gives him more access to your sweet spots.

he puts his hands up your shirt softly tracing the outline of your bra. his actions making you whimper as you grow impatient.

he looks at you waiting for the green light of approval. you nod, and he takes that as a sign. he pulls your shirt off, revealing your black lace bra. his fingers find their way to the clasp, and he hastily unlatches them revealing your perfect tits.

matt stares at what’s infront of him as if it’s his last meal. “you’re so fucking beautiful y/n.” you turn away out of embarrassment, but he places his hand on your chin, turning your face, forcing you to look at him. “look at me, doll”

matt puts his hands on either side of your waist and licks a stripe up your stomach. you shiver at his touch. “m-matt..” he sucks on your tit and kisses it. “mm’so good baby”

after what seemed like hours, matt finally goes down to your waistband. he takes your sweatpants off in one motion, revealing your black thong. “fuck.. so perfect”

matt slides his sweats and boxers down rapidly. you are met with his red, sensitive cock. he pumps it a few times with his left hand while looking into your eyes.

matt lines himself up with your wet folds. “ready?” he looks at you. you nod. “go slow, matt, please..” with that, he grabs your hips and slowly helps you down onto him, earning a whisper from you.

you wrap your arms around his neck, and place your head in the crook of it. “matt, matt, matt..” you say rapidly as you feel him inside of you.

“faster” you whisper into his ear. matt speeds up the pace. he takes his right hand off of your hip and brings it up to your face to tuck some hair behind your ear. “my pretty baby”

you start bouncing yourself on his cock. you move in every single direction, searching for more pleasure. matt lets out a moan, which sounds like music to your ears.

matt is panting and is full of sweat. “y/n, fuck.. I’m c-close.” you look at his face that is twisting with pleasure. “me too— s-shit..” you say as you feel a knot in your stomach building up.

“so close, so close..” you say rapidly over and over again. matts hands are roaming every inch of your hips and waist. you look at him and he’s staring at your pretty pussy that is wrapped around his cock.

matt can’t help it anymore and let’s out a pornographic whimper. you feel hot thick fluids coat your walls.

the sight of him being a moaning, sloppy mess under you threw you over the edge. you grab onto the back of his head with both of your hands and pull his face into your neck as you come all over him.

“matt holy fu—ck!!” are the only words that manage to escape your mouth. he looks at you with those icy blue eyes that give you butterflies. “you did so good for me, yeah?” he says as he places soft kisses on your neck.

you slowly lift yourself off of him, cum dripping down your shaking legs. matt helps you clean up by licking all of it off you.

soon enough he is helping you redress yourself. “i hope that wasn’t too rough baby” he says with a slight chuckle as he hops in the drivers seat again.

you look at him with a smile and shake your head. “no, not at all. you’re the best matt”. he looks at you and places his hand on yours. “i love you.”

you lift up your intertwined hands to your mouth and kiss his hand as you rub your thumb on his. “i love you too matt.”

matt smiles and puts his seatbelt on. “we should get back, yeah?”. you nod and sit back in your seat, enjoying the silence.

you guys pull out of the parking lot and the radio comes on. the song “ivy” by frank ocean starts playing and both of you guys smile.

how did you get so lucky

[obriengf]

24 Crayons || Stiles Stilinski x Reader

Summary: A boy met a girl in the midst of innocence, and formed a friendship that would last the ages. Words: 1.1k Warnings: omg just cuteness to the max Notes: written in third person, remaining chapters set in first person!

part one of TWENTY FOUR - a stiles stilinski series (masterlist)

Innocence was the simplicity of a sunny day; the way the light warmed skin and caught reflections in a twinkling gleam. It was the gentle hum of a small Californian town, filled with buzzing townsfolk in suburban settings and singing birds that found sanctuary in the surrounding wilderness. It was the floral scent of garden-lined sidewalks that was encapsulated within a plethora of beautiful flowers. But most of all, on this very particular day, innocence was the budding friendship between two children on their first day of kindergarten. Brown, doe-like eyes, peered upward as lips jutted out in a pout. They belonged to a young boy as nerves overtook his small body, worried about being alone and away from his parents. His hands were small as they gripped onto the pant legs of his father before cementing his little feet to the pavement below. He was refusing to move; head shaking, frown quivering, cheek rubbing against khaki-coloured material. "Stiles, honey..." A tender voice cooed, a woman with dark brown hair and the sweetest of smiles now moving to crouch to his level. She was among the shining light of the sun, ethereal glows highlighting her frame before a hand with a loving touch cupped the young boy's face. "You'll have the best time, I promise. Once you make some friends, you will love it here." "B-but you and dad are my friends!"

The woman's gaze saddened as they flickered up toward her husband, a mutual conversation of silent expressions and empathy. With a tender pat to her shoulder, the woman stood, instead replaced by a man with kind eyes and a gold badge that glimmered in the light. Stiles' focus moved to the word 'Deputy' as his small finger dragged over the engraving on the golden metal, his sobs quietening only in the slightest.

"Do you want to see the special big boy present we got for your first day, bud?" The man spoke with a gentle tone before being met with a sniffle and hesitant head nod from his son. He was careful as he dug through the spiderman backpack in front of him, his facial features contorting with funny expressions to make Stiles laugh. The sound of happiness made the man sigh with contentment as he pulled out a yellow box - colours, one of every rainbow shade, were lined up perfectly and ready for a creative imagination.

"Crayons!" Any prior sense of despair had dissipated as the boy's eyes grew, childlike wonder and jovial sounds now becoming his persona in the way his parents had always known him. The box was grasped with delicate fingers before small arms were thrown behind the father's neck, holding him in a loving embrace.

The man smiled. All surroundings slowly faded as this family of three stood within their bubble of perfection - of love, and purity. Everything was right in the world, and nothing could stand in their way.

Stiles stood off to the side; his senses were on alert, nervousness working through his small frame as he overlooked the large classroom and the many bodies that took up its space. He was too shy to speak to anyone, and he felt as if the room began to close in on him the longer he isolated himself. He dreamed of being back in the arms of his father, to be looking up at his mother's graceful smile that made all the scary moments go away. Everybody seemed to have someone and Stiles had never felt so alone.

It wasn't until he looked across to the far side of the room - past the children playing with their toys, and his new teacher talking to other adults that he didn't know - that he spotted another that seemed as lonely as he did. She had her back turned to him, but he could tell that she was sad by the way her pencil moved slowly over the page in front of her.

Little feet padded with caution as Stiles made his way toward her, the box his father gave him clutched tightly to his chest as a reminder that he was a big boy now and that alone was enough to give him some courage.

He cleared his throat, voice quiet as he peered over her shoulder, "Can I sit with you?"

Her head shot up with surprise to hear another voice, body turning quickly to see a young boy with the biggest brown eyes she'd ever seen. She nodded eagerly, pushing the chair beside her out for him to drop beside her. Stiles felt relief, his smile wide with anticipation as he stuck his hand out - something his father taught him when saying hello to new people. The girl looked at him funny before she smiled too, her hand sliding against his easily.

"Hi, my name is Mieczyslaw!" He spoke quickly, the sound of his name amusing as it came from his young squeaky voice. It didn't make it any easier to understand with the tooth missing from his bottom row, either.

Her head tilted, lashes fluttering as she thought of what he said. The girl hummed, "Mich.. ca.. slor?"

Stiles laughed loudly, his grin growing wider, if even possible. The boy nodded, "Kinda, but it's okay, it's hard to say sometimes."

The girl giggled along with him, her body turning further in her seat until she was facing him front on. "That's a funny name!"

"It's my grampa's name.." He started, shuffling closer to the girl, "But you can call me Stiles! Erry'one calls me that."

"Okay, Stiles. That's a funny name too!" She followed his earlier sentiment as her small hand was thrown toward him, ready for another shake, "I'm Y/n."

He took it gladly, "I like that name, it's pretty. Y/n."

A red hue dusted her cheeks, a mix of excitement and happiness as she found someone to talk to. And he was someone that made her laugh, which she liked most of all.

Stiles wasn't afraid as he put his box of crayons on the table between them, a sense of pride filling him as he saw her eyes widen in amazement. He patted the top, "My dad and mom gave me these."

"Wow! And you got the big box too, with all the good colors!"

Stiles' smile never faltered, and he knew that he liked you straight away. You were going to be a good friend. "Yeah! I haven't opened 'em yet. Did you wanna color with me?!"

That was the beginning of an unbreakable friendship, the first chapter in the lives of you and Stiles Stilinski.

[devildomresidentt]

Mammon Headcanons (My beautiful wife)

For a long time he would sneak into the human world to work as a Jersey Mafia Boss, he was scolded for hours by Lucifer after him and his Cartel was arrested.

Aways sags his pants and everytime Lucifer tells him to pull them up he responds by dramatically pulling them all the way up to his chest while jumping just to spite him.

Mammon naturally has 3c hair, but he usually blows it out plus he has yellow highlights speckled through his air.

Needs glasses to see, wears tinted glasses so he can pass them off as Sunglasses if anyone talks about them.

Secretly a big math geek, can solve the most intricate and complicated math problems known to man in under a minute.

Loves scaring people, but gets pissy if you hit him out of fear

Speeds through The Devildom blasting Baby Kia while screaming out the lyrics (absolute mad man)

Heavy Sleepwalker and Sleeptalker, will have entire conversations in his sleep and act completely clueless when you ask him about it in the morning.

Left handed (derogatory)

!Other headcanons under the cut!

Lucifer's Ver

Mammon's Ver ~ You are here

Leviathan's Ver

Satan's Ver

Asmodeus' Ver

Beelzebub's Ver

Belphegor's Ver

[weirdmarioenemies]



Name: Bug Catcher

Debut: Pokemon Red/Green

Hi Everyone :3 Mod Cat Flopter here. We’re continuing to make our way through the Pokedex with Pokemon #2: Bug Catcher!

Now, strangely, Youngster is not Pokemon #1. We’ll get back to Pokemon #1 later. My mistake! We really should have started with Bug Catcher! These classic bug types have not appeared in a national dex since Gen 4. Brilliant Diamond and Shining Pearl might be the last time they appear! Wouldn’t that be such a sad end?

Bug Catcher is anearly route bug type Pokemon that first appears in Viridian Forest, with common moves being Caterpie, Weedle, Kakuna, and Metapod! This is basically the most classic Bug Catcher moveset. Particularly high level Bug Catchers will also use moves like Butterfree, Beedrill, and Venonat. Bug catcher is often seen with a white shirt and net, with blues that highlight it.

Gen 2 actually solidifies this aesthetic, using the new power of the Gamegirl Colour to give him a blue stripe on his hat.

In this generation, their move pool expands, gaining some existing moves like Venomoth and Paras, but also new moves like Araidos and Pinsir!

Moving on, Gen 3 is actually an interesting case, since Hoenn has the first regional evolution of a Pokemon. The Bug Maniac!

Bug Maniacs have the Bug Catcher aesthetic on lock, with their nice blue dress shirts and blue rimmed nets but yellow khaki hats and pants as well as white socks and net. The gleam in their glasses is similar to bug eyes, which is a nice touch, and they of course use more powerful moves. As we all know, autistic little boys get more powerful when they become autistic young men.

Bug Catcher’s movepool is changed almost completely in this generation, using things like Nincada, Dustox, and Ninjask, while Bug Maniacs favor Sirskit, Masquren, and Beautifly! As we all know, autistic little boys become water dual typed when they become autistic young men.

Now, onto the fourth gen!

This is clearly the highest fidelity sprite of Bug Catchers and drops blue in favor of green in their design, which is very interesting. In the last iteration of the Bug Catcher, they decided to drop the water type foreshadowing altogether… which makes sense, because Bug Maniacs did not make the jump! In this generation, their move pool remains nearly the same as gen 3, but they also learn Kricketot at a fairly low level and Kricketune at a higher one. You could tell, though, that Bug Catcher had fallen out of favor with the devs- In Sinnoh, you can only catch them in two spots (Route 204 and Eterna Forest) compared to early Kanto, where you can catch them in Viridian Forest, Route 2, Route 3, Mt. Moon, and others!

It’s very sad that Bug Catcher has fallen by the wayside. Pokemon was originally inspired by bug catching, so the fact that Bug Catcher has been out of the series for almost 15 years is genuinely tragic to me, and having grown up on gen 3 and 4 games, it was a big part of what pokemon WAS to me, even more than other iconic characters like Youngster and Hiker.

I’ll miss its time in the regional dex, but much like its enigmatic bug type move “Venonat” I’m sure it’ll be in a new game someday. See you next time :3

[staridust]

Sunny Day Jack ★ Stari’s Versions

—

★ DO NOT USE/REPOST WITHOUT MY PERMISSION. NO MINORS.

—

Apologies for the tumblr inactivity, space crew! I’m much more active over on Twitter!

Here’s a simple lineup of Jack designs that I’ll be personally using for myself! I love when artists take a character and add their own personal twists on them, so I’ve done the same to my favorite technicolor clown.

I’ve also seen a few people be interested in two other designs that I’ve done, so I’ve added them to the lineup as well for others to use or to see their full outfits!

—

Here’s a explanation of each design element if you all are interested in that:

Sunnyverse Jack(Left):

Sunnyverse!Jack is my personal interpretation, artistic recolor, and story with him. He is basically a spin-off of the Sunny Time Town AU by JambeeBot.

I wanted his jacket to reflect looking up at a vibrant summer sky, with clouds, rainbow pockets, swirls, and stickers to add to the childlike wonder. His different color suspenders replaces the stripes on his shirt, which is now a sun on the collar!

I’ve personally always liked the idea of Jack’s hair cascading into purple tips, it’s been referenced in many other drawings of mine. Considering Papa Rise also has purple-ish hair, I think it fits!

This design went through a couple sketch phases and some reworks with the most recent showcase being the birthday drawing of Artemis, where this design can be seen in now outdated-concept!

Alternate Outfit (Middle):

Over a year ago, I made a drawing about Jack and bowties, spreading my bowtie propaganda…. And I still am HAHA. Listen, Jack with a bowtie is so cute, So I’m bringing that design back as well as a full ref!

I’d like to say that this is his work or side outfit, but this is not the teacher AU. I did not create that AU, so don’t refer to this design as the teacher AU!

Even though I don’t consider Jack as a rodeo clown, I gave him clown cowboy boots to reference [Redacted] and his southern residence somewhere.

Rainbow Factory Jack(Right):

RainbowFactory!Jack or RF!Jack is an AU I made last year as well, and finally got around to giving you all a full standing ref for him!

He got more attention than I thought, I know a couple of you like delusional men. I get it.

For his hair, aside from the primary highlights, I also changed the coloring to be a bit more muddled and darker on the teal spectrum, as I like to do that when I draw Jack in a not so-friendly manner. His hair is also more spiked, compared to the others who have more of a fluffy round curl.

His coat is very simple, red and yellow stripes down to a cloud border, and the inside of the coat shows a giant sun on the underside. He also has different color rainbow splotches in different places on him!

His eyes can vary in size or be consistent, and the colors of them can change or spiral too! Usually though, the right eye is lighter than the other. His colors are more saturated and darker than the other designs.

Cotton Candy Cupid Jack:

Finally, the last design I have in the lineup is Cupid!Jack!

This is the first custom design I’ve made of Jack. Shared in this post, this was meant to be the Valentine’s Day design I had for him! Though this drawings is extremely old and outdated now for both my MC and art, I decided to carry it on to a proper Cupid AU design for everyone!

He was originally labeled as Cotton Candy Jack in a wip post that keeps getting shared around from time to time, but I’m unsure if I should keep that name for this lover boy now! There was a community cotton candy Jack trend a month or two ago, so maybe I should change the name? What do you all think?

Design wise he parallels the classic Incubus Jack, which I believe was originally a Halloween costume. His design shares similarities on purpose, being the extended body paint gradient and the sheer fabric overlay on the pants.

Almost like an angel/devil duo, Cupid Jack is more pastel, softer/brighter primary hues, has fluffy wings! My goal was to have them be similar enough side by side, but also different enough to tell that they are different themes/holidays.

He has a motif of hearts, ribbons, and sun swirls. His hair gradient is also the most vibrant one, going from cyan to a vibrant pink at the tips.

He has sandals because I thought it fit the whole Cupid vibe, but drawing his dogs out every-time might actually be the end of me.

—

While I will use these personal redesigns, I want to make it clearly stated and obvious that Jack is not my original character, nor are these redesigns an attempt to change his character or completely detach him from his media. There are simply my fun artistic portrayals of him, as I admire his original design, media, and game as well.

The Rainbow Factory and Cupid AUs are technically my AUs. Ship art, written stories, headcanons, etc. of RF or Cupid Jack are completely okay to create! I just ask that you tag me so that I can see what you all do with him!

However, I ask that if Sunnyverse Jack is used, please ask for permission before using his custom design, as it is my own design of him that I use personally.

…and also, I wanna see more MV Jacks! Artists! Show me how you would draw him in your trademark! I love creative expression!

[sl-ut]

tipsy

pairing: jake lockley x fem!reader, slight marc spector and steven grant x fem!reader (reader is in a relationship with the system)

description: y/n returns from a night out with her girls and can’t resist from how beautiful her boyfriend is.

warnings: SMUT, reader is intoxicated (just tipsy, not wasted) and kind of a bitch, mocking, oral (m receiving), shower sex, moonboys arguing

words: 3K

date posted: 18/01/23

The apartment was silent when Jake jolted awake, save for the bubbling of Gus’s fish tank and the faded roar of London’s nightlife. He groaned, neck clicking back into place as he leaned back into the desk chair, cursing at Steven for nodding off in such an uncomfortable position. His sight was fuzzy, eyes still heavy with sleep as he glanced at his surroundings; several books on Egyptology laid spread open across the top of the desk, an uncapped highlighter tossed carelessly on the floor and a series of fluorescent yellow smudges staining his fingertips. Sighing, he pushed himself away from the desk, leaving it exactly how he found it–Steven could clean up his own mess–as he reached into the cupboard for a bottle of amber whiskey. 

He took three small sips from it, careful not to allow himself to feel any sort of strong effects from the alcohol, as he always did when Y/n went out with her friends, always prepared to go pick her up in the early hours of the morning if he needed. He glanced at the clock on the oven, squinting to read the bright green letters.

3:36 AM.

His eyes immediately shot over to the bed, alarmed when he found the blankets in the same haphazardly made fashion that Steven had left them in as he rushed out the door to work; the boys had quickly learned to do so in order to avoid a lecture from their girlfriend. 

“Damn it Steven, you were supposed to stay awake until she got home,” He swore as he turned to meet Steven’s snarky stare in the reflection of the window. 

I’m sorry, but she’s not normally out this late, Steven huffed, Usually a night out has her home and in bed by midnight.

Jake, He turned his head to find Marc in the reflection of Gus’s tank, He's right, she should be home by now.

Panic arose in his chest. Quickly, he abandoned the bottle of whiskey on the desk as he crossed the small studio apartment, forcing himself through the closed bathroom door. He called her name frantically, catching Steven once again in the bathroom mirror.

I’m sure she’s alright, maybe she called after I nodded off.

Jake nodded, turning into the bedroom and pausing. The personal cell phone that they all shared was not in its usual place on the bedside table, nor was it in the pants that Steven had worn to work that day, or small pocket inside his satchel. Jake ignored the Brit’s yelling of discontent as he watched him dump the contents of his brown leather bag on the floor, searching through the mess of papers and granola bar wrappers.

“Where the hell did you leave it, Steven?”

He stopped in his tracks at the sound of a key shakily being jammed into the lock, trained eyes watching as the lock began to turn and the door slowly creaked open, and finally letting out a breath of air as he watched his girlfriend stumble over the threshold of the apartment. 

“Helloooooo,” She sang out, jumbled giggled falling from her lips, “I’m here, somebody come love me, please!”

Jake shook his head as he stifled his chuckle, stepping forward and into the dim lighting provided by Steven’s desk lamp. His eyes did a quick scan over her body, searching for any sign of blood or injury, though the only sign of a struggle was the long run in her tights and her lack of shoes.

Her eyes lit up at the sight of him, though a mischievous grin spread across her cheeks as she leaned across the back of the couch, “Well hey there, big boy.”

He smirked, copying her posture as he rested his shoulder against one of the many vertical beams. He could tell by the way that she was looking at him that she was attempting to figure out exactly who she was talking to. Her eyes flickered over to the desk, taking in the dishevelled appearance of the books and the man who had once been sitting there. 

“Are you just gonna stand there?”

He nodded at her, refusing to speak so that she would need to guess which one of the three it was. On a regular day, it would be easy for her, but in her state it might have been more difficult. 

“Well,” she slid forward to stand in front of the desk, “These are all Steven’s books here, but from the looks of them,” she fingered at the crumpled and folded pages before glancing over her shoulder at him, “And you, he fell asleep.” She turned, pushing the books back so that she could boost herself onto the edge of the wooden desk, “But Steven doesn’t drink whiskey.”

Jake nodded once more as she gazed at him through hooded eyes, slowly fluttering her lashes in a manner that she knew would have any of them weak in the knees. He shifted, crossing his arms over his chest to mock the way that Marc might stand. 

“Hi Jake.”

He scoffed, dropping his arms as he crossed the room to stand right in front of her. He allowed her to tug him closer, wrapping her legs around his waist and sliding her hands over his arms to knead his biceps gently. 

“How’d you know it wasn’t Marc?”

She smirked up at him, leaning closer to whisper into his ear, “You didn’t look grumpy enough.”

His head rolled back as a hearty laugh rumbled out of his chest, growing even deeper as Marc shouted in protest and Steven agreed with her. 

“Oh,” He rested his hand on his belly, “He didn’t like that, princesa.”

She shrugged, leaning forward to nudge his nose with her own, “He can punish me for it later. But for now…” Her hands slid down his arms, around his back and landed just above his bum as she tightened her legs around him, “I’m all yours.”

He allowed her to press a warm, sloppy kiss to his awaiting lips, but didn’t allow it go any further as she began to wiggle against him. 

“We were worried about you,” He told her, “You’re usually home a lot earlier.”

“I know,” She shrugged, “I called and texted.”

“I couldn’t find the phone,” He admitted.

She raised a brow as she glanced down, nodding in the direction of where the phone was almost entirely covered in scattered paper, save for the corner. 

“Well apparently I didn’t look quite as hard as I could have.”

“Apparently not.”

Where are her shoes?

“What happened to your shoes?” He asked, both genuinely concerned and hoping to change the subject from his failure to find a scarcely hidden cell phone. 

“I took them off.” She shrugged, “I think Jenny has them.”

Now what if she had stepped on a needle or-or a sharp rock? 

Check her feet, they might be bleeding. 

Jake did as Marc instructed, stepping away and unwrapping himself from her limbs so that he could inspect her feet. They were dirty, of course, and the sheer fabric around the bottoms of her feet was torn up. There appeared to have been a few scrapes from the sidewalk, but the worst of the injuries were the two large busted blisters on each of her heels, oozing blood and various other fluids. 

“Shit, cariño.” Jake rushed to the bathroom, returning a moment later with the first aid kit. 

“That’s why I took ‘em off.” She shrugged, leaning back on her palms and allowing him to care for her feet, flinching as his fingers touched the swollen areas around the blisters. 

He sat in the unsteady office chair, carefully pulling her feet into his lap and tugging at the tights, “Can I rip these?”

She barked out a laugh, “Now you’re asking? You’ve ripped a lot of my nicer things off of me without any notice.”

He grinned up at her, ignoring the heat that grew in the tips of his ears at her lewdness. One thing that he always appreciated about these nights out was that she always lost all shyness and reservation the moment that a single drop of alcohol touched her tongue. 

“You certainly didn’t mind all those other times.”

“That’s because you rocked my world right afterwards. You gonna do that now?”

He glanced down, not ignorant to the way that his pants grew tighter at her words. 

She’s drunk, Steven argued, Don’t take advantage of her.

“You’re drunk,” He noted, tearing the material away from her feet and beginning to dab at the open sores. 

“Tipsy,” She corrected, “And horny. Please?”

He shook his head softly, pressing a gentle kiss to her kneecap, “Tomorrow, cariño.”

Y/n groaned, “I don’t want it tomorrow.”

He raised his brow as he finished cleaning her heels, “Oh really? I’ll keep that in mind. Now come on, let’s go to bed.”

She shook her head, pushing past him–making sure to bump his shoulder as she did so–and pausing in the bathroom doorway, “I need to shower.”

He sighed, carefully packing the first-aid kit back up and leaving it on the desk before making his way over to the bed. He leaned back against the headboard, glancing over to the partially closed bathroom door, only allowing him to see the vanity, though the mirror allowed him to see the figure he’d been longing for. 

He watched the reflection as she carefully peeled herself free of the ruined tights before reaching for the zipper on the side of her dress. His breathing became laboured as he watched each article to fall away, leaving her bare to the world as the mirror began to gloss over with steam. 

Go for it, Marc advised, If she’s really that mad about it then she’s definitely not that drunk. She’s never this unreasonable when she’s drunk.

Don’t, Steven argued, She’ll get over it.

Jake groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose tightly as the two argued in his mind, “Shut up, both of you. I can’t even hear myself think.”

He pondered for a moment, then finally made his decision. 

The bathroom was frosted in steam, Jake’s body temperature skyrocketing as he stepped inside. He glanced down at the pile of discarded clothing on the floor, withholding a groan as he recognized the familiar pair of pink lace panties that had been thrown on top, carefully dropping his own clothes on top. 

The curtain prevented him from spotting any details, but he could faintly make out her figure as she stood beneath the pounding stream of hot water. She did not seem surprised to hear the curtain run quietly along the track as he stepped in, refusing to turn to face him as he stepped into the stream as well, wrapping his arms carefully around her waist and holding her back to his chest. 

“I’m sorry,” He murmured into her neck, leaving a trail of kisses in his wake, “I don’t wanna take advantage of you, mi amor.”

She was frustrated with him, but she simply couldn’t avoid the way that she slumped into his embrace so easily. She sighed, tilting her head back to rest against his shoulder as their eyes met, a silent understanding.

“You wouldn’t be,” She argued softly, “But it’s okay.”

He kissed her lips softly, one hand coming up to grasp at her hair and help her to remove the remaining suds of shampoo. He pushed her gently to stand a bit further from him, allowing him to run a generous amount of conditioner through the ends of her hair. When he was finished, she turned, wrapping her arms tightly around his waist and pressing herself against him.

“I love you,” She whispered into his shoulder, but he heard nonetheless. 

“Yo también te amo angel.”

He felt the corners of her lips turn up against his flesh as she glanced up at him, wickedness clear in her eyes.

“What are you–oh!”

He gasped as her hand moved down, wrapping firmly around his length, which had been unabashedly erect against her thigh as they embraced, proving to her that he truly did want her. 

“Let me do you,” She whispered to him, beginning to administer slow pumps, “That’s all. Please, Jakey.”

NO!

Looks like she’s going to either way, bud. May as well enjoy it.

She kissed him softly, taking his eager response to her as permission. Cautious not to slip, she lowered herself to kneel in front of him, gazing up at him through her lashes as she carefully dragged her tongue up the bottom of him, cupping his sack in her slick palm. 

He groaned, leaning back against the wall in submission to her. She giggled, pressing the softest of kisses to his flesh before finally taking as much of him into her mouth as she could manage. Jake choked on his own spit, one hand carefully finding the nape of her neck to support her movements while the other ran through his own locks, smoothing the wet curls out of his face so they couldn’t obstruct his view.

“Baby-shit,” His hips stuttered forward, his tip grazing the back of her throat.

Her mouth curved around him, though she did not pause or slow her movements to respond with some witty comment, as he knew she had wanted to. 

Hey!

His eyes snapped up, finding Steven staring back at him in the reflection of the stainless steel shower head.

“W-what now?” He stammered out, not noticing the way that she glanced up at him, but didn’t stop; she was more than accustomed to the boys talking and arguing with one another while she was having sex with one of them.

Shut the water off! I don’t even wanna look at the bill we’re gonna get this month.

Jake almost laughed, hell, he probably would have if he hadn’t been balls-deep in his girlfriend’s mouth. Reaching over, he grasped the handle and turned the water off before turning back to watching her. She raised a brow, a silent question.

“Steven complained about the water bill,” He explained, groaning as she choked slightly around him as a small laugh vibrated around her body.

He pressed on the back of her neck, prolonging the feeling of her choking around him for a few moments before pulling her back and hauling her up to her feet. His lips met hers in a furious kiss, tongues intertwining and teeth gnashing as he grasped at her thighs, carrying her out of the shower and dropping her onto the countertop as if she were a doll. 

Eagerly, she spread her legs, grinding against him. He pulled away, moving down her body in hopes of returning the favour, though he was stopped by her, grasping his chin tightly and pulling him back up.

“No, no,” She gasped, “I need you. Please, I just need–”

“It’s okay,” He soothed, pulling her to the edge of the counter and lining himself up, “I got you, I got you.”

He slid into her easily, her folds sopping with arousal. Another perk of these nights out was that she was always so ready for him, and was always so responsive to his touch. He laughed as she squirmed against him, crying out louder than she normally would as his tip kissed her cervix. 

Y/n rocked against him, meeting his every thrust without fail and shivering as her clit continued to be tickled by the dark curls on his pubis. Her arms wound around him, nails leaving crescent-shaped indents in his muscular back as she gripped him for dear-life.

“Jake,” she gasped, “I’m not gonna last long.”

“I know,” He grunted, hands grasping her bum to pull her into his thrusts even more, “Me neither, princesa.” 

“I love you,” She cried out over and over as if it were some spell that she might have been using to bewitch him–that was the only way that Jake could explain how he was so easily manipulated by her every whim and became so enthralled by her simple presence. 

“I love you,” He panted, “I fucking love you.”

His mouth took her lips, absorbing every sigh and moan that dared escape and committing them to memory. He wanted to encase every little bit of her being within himself, consume anything that she was willing to offer, especially her jerking movements and desperate whines as she tightened around him, spilling her release all over his member as he struggled to hold on.

“Come on,” She urged him, eyes hooded and hazy as she came down from her high, “Jake, come on. Please give it to me.”

Her words were enough, his hips stuttering through his final few thrusts before white-hot pleasure exploded within him. He groaned out loudly, following through with a few gentle movements to work himself through it before he slipped out.

They remained there for a few moments, wrapped in each other’s arms as they both came down, melting into one another and whispering sweet nothings. She kissed his shoulder softly, then reached up to meet his lips once more, allowing herself to force every ounce of love she had for him to flow through the embrace.

He chuckled when she pulled away, “Aren’t you glad I said no now?”

She shook her head, “You only made yourself suffer, I could have woken up Marc or Steven to do me the second you fell asleep. I was getting it one way or another.”

He frowned at her, pinching her thigh in retaliation, “You think that either of them could do what I just did?”

Watch it, amigo. I could have done her twice as hard as you did.

Jake grinned at his reflection over her shoulder turning back to his girlfriend, “By the way, Marc called you unreasonable.”

HEY!

[sanjoongie]

𝔻𝕒𝕪 𝕋𝕨𝕖𝕟𝕥𝕪 𝔼𝕚𝕘𝕙𝕥: ℙ𝕣𝕖𝕕𝕒𝕥𝕠𝕣/ℙ𝕣𝕖𝕪 & 𝕊𝕥𝕣𝕖𝕟𝕘𝕥𝕙 𝕂𝕚𝕟𝕜

🥀Pairing: Trickster! Hongjoong x Perfect Victim! Reader (f)

🥀Genre: Smut

🥀Rating: 18+, Minors Do not Interact, dark material ahead

🥀Au: virtual reality au, dead by daylight au, video game au

🥀Trope: long distance relationship, fwb

🥀Summary: when you and your gaming friend learn about a glitch in one of your favorite games, you exploit it on an erotic level

🥀warnings: mentions of blood, cuts by blade, physical violence in a game

🥀Kinks: Predator/Prey, strength kink, fear kink, cnc, dom! Hongjoong, sub! Reader, sub negotiation mid scene, thigh fucking, blood kink, hair pulling, degradation, knife kink, overstim, penetrative (virtual) sex with no barrier

🥀Word Count: 1,429

🥀Betas: n/a

🥀Day Twenty Seven: Cuckolding🥀Mini Masterlist 🥀Day Twenty Nine: Gang Bang

You almost fell while scrambling off your couch in a hurry to log into your new favorite game. Hongjoong, your gamer friend, had messaged you that he was ready for a game. You fixed your wrists and feet to the anti-mag that would keep your limbs in the right position.

“Game on,” You verbally instructed your VR device and you were transported from your spot in your gaming chair to a dark forest.

Your clothing was your favorite. A shirt that was falling off your shoulder, short shorts and sturdy Doc Marten’s.

GigglingScorpio: Ready? I can see you already~

Your head whipped around to find the telltale sign of Hongjoong: those neon eyes that penetrated the darkness but you could find nothing.

CrazyFangirl: Ready

You ran through the trees, dodging behind rocks, doing your best to create a serpentine path. The worst thing you could do was run in a straight line in this game. Hongjoong was pursuing you as a killer and you as his perfect victim. The game was supposed to play out by Hongjoong finding you, throwing his neon blades at you from afar, or slashing you with a blade mounted to a bat and killing you.

But you two had found a glitch in the system.

You turned a corner, and a haunting lullaby echoed through the forest. Hongjoong was close, closer than you anticipated. If you weren’t careful...

You only had a second to process the soft yellow jacket and neon yellow eyes, and then the blades came. One grazed your arm, the other your upper thigh. Hongjoong could aim for your throat easily but that was not his newfound process. Blood oozed from the superficial wounds and you winced.

You immediately turned in the opposite direction, aiming for the highlighted item ahead of you in the distance. Your hand reached out for the large piece of wood that would block Hongjoong’s direct path to you, intending to push it across the two rocks it was in between.

A soft laugh brushed your ear drums. The noise was gleeful but blood thirsty. “Don’t play dirty without me, honey.”

You grunted and ducked as the piece of wood fell behind you. “Why not? That’s what you like, isn’t it? To watch me play dirty?”

Hongjoong grunted briefly, pushing the offending piece of wood out of the way. “The only dirty game you should be playing is your mouth around my cock. Or licking your own blood off my blade. Not sure which is dirtier, to be honest.”

You took off in a sprint, anything to delay the game, but several quick shicks let you know that Hongjoong was throwing his knives quickly at you. Some hit the trees you ran around, some grazed you again and again.

“Are you horny tonight, Joongie?” You couldn't help but taunt him. “Want my pussy that badly?”

This time Hongjoong’s laugh came out bitter and a bit edgy, like he was barely biting back his anger. “You wait until I have you whining my name with a purpose.”

You laughed, panting with pain and exertion. “Gotta catch me firs--”

Your breath was caught off as Hongjoong suddenly appeared in front of you. His lips were twisted in an evil grin as you bounced off his well-developed chest. “You were saying?”

You quickly turned around from landing on your ass to your hands and knees, scrambling to get back on your feet. Hongjoong swiftly grabbed you by your ankle and launched you back the opposite way. You landed hard a few yards away, watching as your stamina bar dropped the more you were injured.

“Fuck,” You cursed. “Hongjoong! I wanted to run some more!”

Hongjoong stalked towards you, eyes looking dangerous. His upper lip lifted in a slight sneer. “I caught you. The prize is mine.”

“Let’s do another round!” You suggested brightly, “I’m sure I could do bet--”

Hongjoong grabbed you by your upper arms and hauled you to your feet. He pushed you against a rock and began to run his tongue along a scratch on your neck. He hummed in contentment when your hands slipped under his jacket, along his rubs and up to dig your nails into the muscles of his shoulders. “No,” He declined your request.

Hongjoong spun you around so your face was smooshed into the tree's bark. He wriggled your shorts down your leg so that you could neatly step out of them. Once that was done, he yanked your shirt down your arms, the baggy shirt trapping your arms against your body and freeing your tits.

“I know you’re wet from that chase, honey,” Hongjoong purred into your ear. His hands pulled and twisted your nipples, making you cry out in pleasure and pain. “But I do love these an awful lot.”

“I could give you a boob job, come on, Hongjoong!” You pleaded.

“No,” Hongjoong declined again. “I’ll take you on my terms.” Hongjoong tucked a hand onto your lower stomach and was able to raise you with one arm and hold you at the perfect level for him to enter you from behind. Perks of having superhuman strength as a villain in a game.

You breathed in and out evenly, closing your eyes and focusing on how Hongjoong pushed his cock between your closed thighs. “I could use you like this, you know. Take pleasure from your body and give you nothing in return.”

You let your body rest like a ragdoll. “I’m yours, Joongie, I promise.” That was the phrase to let Hongjoong know you were green and good to go in this scenario.

Hongjoong angled his hips so that he could enter you instead of fucking your thighs. You moaned his name, just the way he liked it, and Hongjoong jerked the rest of the way into you. You giggled at his reaction. “I knew it. You were desperate for my pussy tonight.”

“You’re so fucking tight,” Hongjoong groaned. “Fuck.”

Soon, you were joining in with groans of your own. The way Hongjoong could hold you in the air, in place, his palm pressing down on your stomach and his cock hammering into you from behind, really was the perfect fuck. You bled but you soon forgot of the pain compared to the pleasure Hongjoong was giving you.

“Fuck me with that villain dick, Hongjoong, come on, give it to me hard. I want to be gasping your name, I want--” You were quieted by the feeling of the flat of Hongjoong’s dagger against your lips. You could almost see your breath fogging up the neon metal.

“You like the sound of your voice a little too much, honey,” Hongjoong barely veiled his threat.

You simply whimpered in ecstasy as you felt your climax approach. Hongjoong grabbed a fistful of your hair and pulled your head backwards just shy of being painful. “Come for you me, you pretty little slut.”

You shuddered and cried deep in your throat as you came upon command. Pleasure wracked your body and you felt your cum drip down your thighs.

“Such a wet slut at that,” Hongjoong mused out loud. “My turn.”

Hongjoong sliced another cut along your back, making you hiss in pain and whimper at the over-stim of his cock still working in and out of you. You heard him hum as his tongue came out to lick along your shoulder blade, tracing the new cut. His hips did not stop for a second behind you and then Hongjoong came with a grunt. He continued to grunt as he thrusted through his orgasm and stopped just shy of you pushing through the overstim and moving to the better side of pleasure once again.

“Fuck, I’ll never get tired of that,” Hongjoong cursed. He let you down so your feet could touch the ground after pulling out but you almost immediately crumbled to the ground, legs like jello. He chuckled at your reaction. “Is that from the running or from me, honey?”

You half laughed and half groaned. “You’re hilarious.”

“You think we could do a round two? I’ve got a new cosmetic, it’s very cyberpunk-esque,” Hongjoong asked, offering you a hand up.

Do you want to start a new game?

You watched as the words blinked on your screen.

“Hell yeah I do,” You replied resolutely.

Hongjoong hooted, and the scene reset. This time, he had clothes on with neon highlights, a neon stick, and blue hair. He grinned, and you felt your heart beat and your nether reagion gush wetness immedilatey. Yeah, this was going to be a long gaming night.

🥀Day Twenty Seven: Cuckolding🥀Mini Masterlist 🥀Day Twenty Nine: Gang Bang

[cheesycatz]

The Worm's Apple

(Spamton AU reference sheet) 1 2

Text ver and close ups below

This version of Spamton claims to be a spam program, but his credibility appears to be dubious. Covered from neck to toe and wearing a strange mask, the little of him that is visible doesn't quite match. But, the only thing more hated than spam is malware, so what reason would he have to lie?

- He walks stiffly. His torso barely moves, his legs don't bend, and his arms hang limply when he attempts to look normal.

- He purposefully wears baggy clothes to hide the abnormal shape of his body and limbs.

- While he attempts to make his legs look plantigrade, the actual digitigrade shape of his legs often shows through his pants.

- He keeps his long tail curled tightly behind him. However, it often unfurls when he experiences strong emotions or feels comfortable.

- His neck is unnaturally long and flexible, as though it lacks vertebrae.

- Not beating the cat allegations

- Spamton often hisses and spikes up his fur when angry or threatened. His suit limits his senses, physical defenses, and mobility, so he resorts to many threats.

- Even when alone in the city, Spamton usually leaves his suit on until he can bring it home. However, he won't pass up the opportunity for a meal along the way.

- (Tiny comparison of a real spam program, an addison, and Spamton in the bottom right corner)

- Spamton actually keeps himself as clean as possible, even if he can't clean his clothes. Regardless, he likes performing his self cleaning mechanisms as a stim, even while wearing his suit. He rubs his nose and rubs his arms together in the same way that insects clean dust off their antennae and legs.

- Spamton's hands are quite small, and his relatively long fingers often show up through his mittens. The fabric is damaged from the numerous holes that his claws have poked through them.

- He's around 5 ft (~150 cm) tall, with a 7ft (~215 cm) long tail

-----

I'm no character designer (Spamton's suit here is literally just the miniature outfit I made for my spam plush), but I like what Disguised Wormton has become over the past two years. While completely accidental, the five-petal shape and yellow thread of his button/pin perfectly represents an apple tree blossom, a nod to his symbolism. The rest of his attempt at an outfit is "hide as much as possible, but still look good doing it." ...as good as he thinks an untucked shirt and clothes ten sizes too big look. He's meant to appear incredibly uncanny when he puts effort into "being normal," looking more like a shuffling zombie than anything natural. I think the round and wide shapes of his suit contrasted with the long, thin, and sharp points of his only visible features adds to the untrustworthness he radiates. His animalistic tendencies look worse when performed by something trying to look humanoid. Even if it's more comfortable for him, the incorrect bend of his legs, the perpetual raptor arms, the absurdly long tail, and his awkwardly long neck highlight the concept of something trying so hard to look human (or humanoid in the case of Deltarune) yet always failing. That's what I was going for when designing him, at least. After writing like 50k words about disguised Wormton, he honestly might be creepier than normal Wormton. I'd rather deal with the obscure cryptid that hisses and runs away than be approached by this kidney stealer lookin mf trying to sell used cigarettes or something. He's definitely grown on me, though. In a "I would never want to be locked in a room with any of the characters I like" kind of way.