#making things pointy is my love language

[sodapopfunk1]

I am very mentally ill about bionicle

[jeonhwang]

Wonnwo + details

pairing: wonwoo x fem reader

warnings: details of wonwoo, wonwoo's lips, wonwoo's deep voice, wonwoo's height, wonwoo's attentiveness, fluff, lots of kissing!

[ 🩷 ]

It's best to say, observing  Wonwoo has got to be the most satisfying slash productive hours of your life. He is fun to analyze, albeit predictable with routine as straight as ABC. Honestly, he is just endearing even when he is only breathing. Every day, he starts his day with a few push ups before taking a shower, heading straight to the kitchen for coffee after. "There's coffee on the counter," you give thanks by kissing his cheeks, because you learned the hard way not to point out his act-of-services.

When he is reading, he tends to get sucked into the book, lost in whatever thoughts in his  head. Most of his reading is calm, eyes blinking slowly, batting his eyelashes almost with his breathing slow and steady. You love to sit next to him when he is reading, even sit on top of him, chest to chest because as you match your breathing with his, you know you'll be asleep in no time. The quietness in the room, the temperature just nice and don't even start with his warmth. His palm splays on your back, rubbing up and down to lull you into a deeper sleep, to which he joined minutes to hours later.

Everything about him is so serene.

He has this habit of touching his lips when he is so deep in his thoughts. Eyebrows scrunch, occassionally pouting from all the complicated words he is reading. And sometimes, well most of the time, he would rub his stubbles growing on his chin. He shaves of course, but within days his baby beard will grow back again and he can't be bothered by it. He sports the stubbles like it is nobody's business, looking so deliciously manly you just want to kiss along those stubbles. The scratchy sensation prickling your skin when he goes as near as kissing you, anywhere on your body, it makes you shudder with delight from just thinking about it.

Takes a lot in you to absorb his magnificence. On the first meeting, you just thought that he was shy, kept words to himself most importantly, you thought he was the hottest nerd you've ever laid your eyes on. His nose, probably what he himself thinks is his best feature, feminine and incredibly straight with the slope ending with a pointy tip. It matches his eyes—his best feature for you—slanted and sharp, like he could see right through you. He was a tad bit annoying when he showed off his intelligence, but hot nontheless. The way he talked with conviction, laughing like a villain when Mingyu decided to challenge his intellectual.

His lips. Those lips that utter softness, always giving you assurance. The same lips that debates with Mingyu, and sometimes Jeonghan. Thicker bottom lip, with an upper lip that is feminine with a deep cupid's bow. And when he kisses you, your body tingles with every movement. The groans he spill, with his deep voice that you can feel in your spine. It makes you shiver. When he compliments you, it comes with a kiss.

"My pretty girl." A kiss on your cheek, at random hours every day.

"You did amazing." A kiss on your shoulder when you lost in a game.

"You look cute." A kiss on your neck when he sees you relaxed, reading a book he suggested.

"I love you." A kiss on your forehead and on your lips.

It's everytime he speaks, a kiss will land somewhere on your body. You love it so much.

You also love how soft spoken Wonwoo is. With that deep voice of his, he can easily scare people away but because of the way he articulates his words softly, he sounds like an actualy sunshine. Especially when he comes to you and spill about his day, sounding so excited. What makes it funny to you is when he reenacts some jokes the member told him. The thing about Wonwoo is that he is not an animated speaker. Minimal hand gestures, body language reserved, it's up to his tone for you to decide if he's telling a funny story. But when he laughs, be sure that his nose will scrunch.

At night, when you two are getting ready to sleep, he always asks if you're having any trouble lately. If you do, he will listen and let you finish talking, his hand keeping busy with caressing your hair until you fall asleep like that. If you don't, he will hum you to sleep.

Wonwoo is a tall guy. He makes it a habit to kiss the top of your head. He loves the height difference between you two, how your head fits right on his chest. It makes hugging you so much better when you can listen to his heartbeat, arms circling your neck as he pushes his cheek against your temple. He gives the best hugs, it's not as frequent as his kisses but when he is into it at certain times, he won't stop. Especially after tour, days without physical contact will take a toll on him. He is snaking his arms around your waist with his palm rubbing your back, swaying side to side without a single word. He hopes, and he knows, his hug delivers the best "I missed you" message.

You miss his presence the most when he's not there to make your coffee in the morning. Or when he's not there to tie your apron when you're cooking because being the graceless one between the both of you, you always forget to. He knows when to act. Like when you are entering the car, he will take your bag so that you can sit without sitting on your bag. How he laid out your pajamas on the bed for you, so that you don't have to rummage your closet after showering. To be fair, he wants to match with you, which is why he is always a step ahead.

"Tonight is a pink pajamas kinda night." He says, showing the pajamas he picked earlier like it was some prize, which you giggle at.

There are times where he even surprise you, saying that your period will be in a few hours. And he's spot on. How does he knows this? "Your boobs look bigger, and you've become sexier in the last hour." Sounds crazy but his methods are flawless!

"Of course you notice my boobs." You say while rolling your eyes, and he can't help but to kiss you stupid. You're glowing in his eyes, always the most beautiful.

"They're my favourite baby! I won't be the man that I am today without your boobs."

[ssajemilyprentiss]

In the air

Pairing: Emily Prentiss x reader 

Warnings: Smut, angsty-ish, reader is a bit cold/lacks emotion, Emily is a bit out of character lol (just this once), mentions of death (you know the regular cm stuff), sexual tension (or more like an attempt at it lol), curse words, eating out, vaginal fingering, nipple/breast play, dirty talk, use of pet names, degradation, praise. Let me know if i forgot something - Also MINORS DNI

Summary: When you get brought in for questioning at the FBI and they have Emily interrogate you - the tension between you is instant.

Wordcount: 2k

A/N: Um hello I guess, I’m back lol. It has been a hot minute since I both wrote and posted on here, and tbh I am a lil scared doing this again. Even tho I love posting and writing I have been so uninspired and unmotivated for so so long for some reason. But I will try to post more, can’t make any promises tho lol. 

The beginning of this has been sitting in my drafts for god knows how long and I wanted to do something with it so here I am doing it lmao

Also a reminder if it has been forgotten, english is not my first language - and I would deeply appreciate your thoughts and opinions on this, thanks besties <3

This was requested by the lovely Jas @rafetopia​​​ (you requested this such a long time ago so you have probably forgotten it, and i can’t find your ask either, sorry about that lmao) who wrote the following: “so what if you wrote a blurb or one shot with emily (or jj tbh i don’t really care i love them both) and there are some murders and the reader is the suspect and there’s a hot interrogation session (i’m a sucker for it) but the ending is up to you like if she’s innocent or not (only if you want to lol) i didn’t want to make it too specific so you still have freedom 😅”

I decided to go with Emily for this one, hope that’s fine Jas (also hope it's fine i added the smut lmao) thank you for this request and i hope this turns out the way you wanted to <3

☽ My masterlist here

☽ Want to request something from me? Take a look here

You let out a deep sigh, crossing your legs for what felt like the hundredth time. The dark, pale interrogation room at the FBI headquarters was freezing cold and you feel yourself getting goosebumps from the chilly atmosphere. How long had you been sitting here? An hour? Two? Who knew? No one had told you anything yet, and none of the agents who showed up and arrested you had come in. Just as you’re about to uncross your legs the door opens and a grey-haired goddess of an FBI agent steps inside the room, her commanding presence immediately taking over the room. She takes a seat across from you, not saying anything. She stares deadpanned at you but all you can think about her eyes - dark brown, almost black, and you feel how you could get lost staring into them. The next thing you see is her nose, straight and pointy - one of her defining features for sure. Your eyes move on to her lips, they are full with a hint of red - red is definitely her color. You keep staring at her lips, biting your own lower lip as you do. You sit in silence for you don’t know how long, until she breaks the silence by clearing her throat. Your eyes shoot up from her lips into her eyes once again, and you see a sly smile forming on her mouth before she starts talking:

“My name is Supervisory Special Agent Emily Prentiss, I’m a profiler with the FBI’s Behavioral Analysis Unit” she takes a breath before continuing “do you know why you’re here Ms. Y/L/N?”

“Actually I don’t” you reply, your lips forming a small smirk “but please agent, do enlighten me”

“You are here on suspicion of murder” 

“Murder?” you retort, raising an eyebrow

“Correct, murder” she replies, tossing pictures on the table - but you keep staring into her eyes. 

“Look at the pictures” she demands

You do, and see yourself in all of them - together with different women. You look up at the agent again with a blank expression. 

“Do you recognize the women in the pictures?” she asks

“Well yes I do” you reply

You point to one of them “That’s me right there” 

“‘I mean the other women” she retorts annoyed

“Oh, silly me” you chuckle “well yes I recognize them too”

“Go on” she says

“Well, as you can see I’ve met them all” 

“Doing what?”

“Do you really wanna know that, Agent Prentiss?” 

“Go on” she encourages you “What about her?” she asks, holding up one of the photos

You look at the photo for a while, it’s of you and one of the girls you had met - what was her name? Mia? Sophia?

“She was a pleasure”

“How come all the women you have met turned up dead just a few days after meeting you?” she asks, her tone accusatory 

“Don’t know” you reply, shrugging your shoulders

“This isn’t a game Y/N, people are dead” she says, venom lacing her tone

“Don’t you think I know that?” you scoff “well I didn’t kill them”

“Where were you on these dates and times?” she asks, sliding a piece of paper with them written down towards you

“Well I can tell you that on all these dates I was very busy” 

“With what?” she asks

You bite your lip again before answering “Well I was with my very good friend Izzie”

She sighs “And you were doing?”

You lean back in your chair, keeping your eyes fixed on hers as you do “You know the usual - shopping, drinking coffee, eating”

“Eating what?” she asks

You chuckle lightly “We were eating a lot of things, if you know what I mean” you say as you raise an eyebrow at her. You see how she takes a second, thinking about what you’re saying, but if your answer startles her - she doesn’t give it away. 

“To be fair Y/N” Emily sighs “I’m getting kinda tired of this” 

“Likewise” you reply, crossing your arms

Emily leans across the table, staring into your eyes. Her hands firmly gripping the table, and you imagine them gripping your body instead. You are woken from your fantasy by her hot breath right next to your ear. You feel the hairs on your arms raising and how wetness starts pooling between your legs.

“So why won’t you just tell me the truth, like a good girl” she whispers, nipping lightly at your ear

You take a sharp breath, exhaling shakily and not daring to move a muscle. 

“Tell me Y/N” she whispers again “do you want to be my good girl?”

You nod, not trusting yourself to speak. She chuckles lightly and tuts

“None of that now, I want to hear you say it” she whispers

You whimper lightly and swallow, just as you’re about to open your mouth the door opens and you and Emily get away from each other, she sits down in her chair composing herself. You sit back in your chair, feeling out of breath. You lock eyes with a tall grumpy agent who stares deadpanned at you. 

“You’re free to go Ms. Y/L/N” he says

“What?” you ask, shocked

“You’re free to go” he repeats “your alibi checks out”

You get up from the chair and as you’re about to leave the room you stop right by Emily’s ear and whisper:

“That was fun, we should do it again sometime” 

You don’t give her time to reply, swiftly exiting the room. On the way out you feel all the other agents staring at you as you walk past them, but all you can do is smirk - thinking back at the moment you just had with Emily - and how you need to get rid of the wetness between your legs the first thing you do when you get home. 

/

The sun was shining outside the BAU, and you close your eyes taking a deep breath. You felt your phone vibrating in your pocket, picking it up you see your uber is on its way. You close your eyes and exhale once more, but before you know it someone is behind you and pushes you against the wall of the building, their hand on your throat. You feel your air supply being cut off and open your eyes in panic, and there in front of you is the grey-haired goddess of an FBI agent once more. She releases the pressure against your throat a little, but keeps her hand steady. You gasp for air as she leans towards you. 

“Listen here you little slut” she says “I don’t think you’re as innocent as you make it look, but to be honest right now I don’t give a fuck”

You don’t answer, focusing on your breathing

“But what I’m more interested in right now is to keep our little party going” she says, backing away “If you want to?”

You raise an eyebrow at her, but can tell from the look on her face that she is serious. You chuckle, looking down at your feet with a sly smile - you look up again, meeting her brown eyes and reply:

“I’d never thought you’d ask”

/ 

She pulls you inside her apartment, dragging you towards her bedroom. She pushes you against the wall once again and presses her lips against yours. You moan into her mouth as your hands caress her body, reaching her breasts. 

“Let me take your shirt off” you pant into her mouth

She pulls away and you pull her shirt over her head, and then do the same with yours. You take off her bra while she does the same with yours. She trails her kisses along your neck, and you throw your head back, giving her full access. She stops by your pulse point, sucking hard on it. You close your eyes and moan as she does, your hands finding her breasts. You start rubbing one of her nipples between your fingers, causing her to moan against your neck. She keeps trailing kisses further down on your body and reaches your breasts. She takes one of your nipples in her mouth, circling her tongue against it. 

“Holy fuck” you breathe out “keep doing that”

She chuckles lightly against your nipple before pinching it lightly with her teeth, making you yelp. 

“Lay down on the bed” she says

You obey, laying down on your back

“You’re so wet for me, aren’t you?” she asks, smirking

You lick your lips and nod, staring up at her. 

She lowers herself, trailing kisses along your stomach down towards your pussy. You feel your clit pulsing and wetness dripping between your legs. 

“Spread those legs for me” she says, and you obey instantly “let me see that pretty pussy of yours” 

She starts kissing your inner thighs slowly, just brushing over your clit lightly when she switches from one leg to the other. 

“Please” you pant, putting your hands in her hair directing her towards your clit “Please stop teasing and fuck me”

“As you wish princess” she says and start sucking forcefully on your clit, making you moan hard of the instant pleasure she gives you

“Such a good girl” she says against your clit, and you thrust your hips forward, looking for more. She chuckles softly and starts licking up and down your slit, and she easily slips two fingers into you - thrusting them slowly. 

“Harder please” you pant “I’m gonna cum”

She picks up her pace, her thrusts becoming more determined, and your eyes starts fluttering from the overwhelming pleasure that is approaching you

“Cum for me” she husks and circle your clit once more, your orgasm washing over you like a wave of pleasure 

“Fuck” you breathe out as she starts lapping up your juices

She kiss you and you taste yourself on her tongue, and then you flip her over - with her underneath you this time

“My turn” you coo and lick your lips, pinning her wrists above her head as you caress one of her nipples with your tongue

"So perfect" you murmur "Perfect tits. Perfect ass. Perfect everything" 

You work your way down her body, kissing her 

“Please” she breathes heavily “I need you”

“Where do you need me?” you ask, kneading her breasts once more 

“Inside” she whimpers “your fingers inside”

You lick a line along her slit, tasting her wetness 

“My my” you chuckle “do I make you this wet?” 

“Yes” she groans “please just fuck me”

You slide two fingers inside of her, thrusting them slowly as you lower yourself towards her clit and take it in your mouth. She moans deeply and arches her back, and you start picking up your pace. 

“Please” she breathes “need more”

You add another finger smoothly, and let her adjust a little before you start thrusting again, and you curl your fingers at her g-spot and start circling your tongue on her clit again - feeling her walls clenching against your fingers

“Yes” she cries out “just like that, I’m cumming” 

You pick up the pace, flicking her clit harder and thrust your finger faster. 

You feel her orgasm taking over, and she cries out from pleasure. You keep thrusting, helping her ride out her orgasm. When she has calmed down you slip out your fingers and take them in your mouth, cleaning her juices from them - and you moan once again from her taste. 

The two of you crash down on the bed next to each other, panting heavily. 

“That was good” she whispers

“So fucking good” you reply and she chuckles at you, turning her head towards you

You stare into Emily’s dark brown eyes once again, the first thing you had noticed about her when she walked into that interrogation room what felt like an eternity ago. Whatever lies behind those beautiful brown eyes is one mystery you would spend your entire life solving. 

-------------------------------------------------------------------

Taglist: @rafetopia / @ssa-sapphic  / @sweetmidnights / @alexbllake / @emilyprsntiss / @sleep-deprived-athlete / @jemilyssecretlover /  @star-stuff-in-the-cosmos / @cmslvtt / @phatcrackdad / @rookie-prentiss (this taglist is sooo old, so i'm sorry in advance if you don't want to be tagged, just let me know and i'll delete you <3)

[xcherryerim]

Roommates Conflict

Mike Schmidt x afab fem!reader

word count: 3919.

warning: NSFW 18+, sexual tension, roommates to ???, stuck fetishism (the reader is stuck on the couch), consensual sex, porn with a plot, SoftDom Mike (little hints of submissiveness tho), pet names (princess, and baby), no use of y/n, in the middle of sex apology / love confession, a bit of fingering.

This is my first time writing smut so please let me know how it was so I can improve. If there are spelling mistakes, I'm sorry. My first language is Spanish.

summary: After fighting with your roommate for a month, you decide to discuss your issues with Mike but, your plans don't go accordingly, and then...Mike finds you stuck on the couch.

credits: @/kithsune for the separator

Mike has been your roommate for seven months now. At first, you thought sharing an apartment with a grown man and his little sister was about to be hell. Surprisingly, everything worked out. Mike was responsible and clean, and his sister was easy to care for. When you finally thought Mike was the best roommate imaginable, things quickly shifted.

You’re not sure if it is the long hours Mike must work or his lack of sleep making him grumpier and prone to irritation, but for the past month, the routine has been this: When you wake up after Abby is off to school and it’s just the two of you, Mike snaps, scolding you for forgetting to clean a few dishes, not finishing drying your laundry, not taking the trash out the week you were supposed to, etc.

You barely opened your eyes, and he was already being a bitch. Then, around 6 a.m., you waited for him to get home after his shift and pointed out that he was a hypocrite since he hadn’t done any major chores himself. Sometimes he pretends you aren’t there, he hisses, or he just accepts the truth and does the chores half-assed.

Today, however, you have a break from your usual responsibilities. And luckily, Abby is with her aunt for the day. Abby’s birthday was a few days ago, and Jane forgot. To keep up the façade of being a perfect aunt, she promised to take Abby to Disneyland, aka the fair down the street. How sweet.

You don’t mind, Abby. She is quiet, but a well-mannered kid. However, you wanted alone time with Mike to discuss the heated tension between the two. You decided to clean the apartment and do his chores for the day, like the dishes, sweeping the floor, throwing the trash, and even going grocery shopping so he didn’t have to go tomorrow. You knew he needed a break, too.

You finished the chores ten minutes before Mike would get to the apartment. When you sat on the old, washed-out couch, you felt a pointy object poke your lower back. The item slides down, going to the inside of the couch. A light sigh escapes from your lips as you turn, placing your knees on top of the sofa seat. You let both of your arms inside the couch, trying to find the mysterious gadget. After a few minutes of struggling, you catch it. You can tell it’s Abby’s gaming controller. She lost it a long time ago, so you know she’ll be happy to play on her console once again.

When you try to free your arms, it does nothing. You used your body force to pull away, but there was no use. You were stuck. You still insisted on doing anything to let you escape this embarrassment, and the thought of Mike seeing you like this sent shivers down your spine. You knew he would make fun of you until one of you moved out. With your strength running out, you pulled once more. No use. Loud steps filled the room, and you feared that your worst nightmare had just come true.

“What the fuck?” His eyes were wide open, a blush running across Mike’s unevenly shaved face. He tried to act as usual, but his mind was running wild. It didn’t help that he had a small crush on you that he tried to avoid and that he started to develop a new fetish. People being stuck.

“I’m stuck.” You answered, rolling your eyes at Mike. Is he always this annoying?

He stood there, not doing anything, but his eyes glimmered at you like he was admiring some piece of erotic art.

“Help me!” You demanded, but Mike just seemed overwhelmed. He walked toward his room. His knees are wobbly as he takes each step. You could hear noises like he was desperately looking for something. After a minute, the noises were gone, and the only thing you could hear was your heart beating like you had never felt before.

“Mike, help me! Mike?!” You were losing your patience. After some hesitation, Mike walks awkwardly towards the living room, his eyes never meeting yours fully.

“What?” He stuttered. Mike tried to use his usual monotone, but it came off as anxious.

“What do you mean, what?! Help me!”

“Fine, I’m sorry.”

He got next to you, wrapping his rough hands around your wrist, slightly pulling.

“I’ve tried that. Is there no use?”

“Then what else do I do?” He sighs, his hot, heavy breath melting into the thin skin of your neck. You felt your body starting to shake like it had some sort of anticipation for him to just...

You let out an aggravated groan and shake your head like it will remove those naughty thoughts of you and your roommate. This whole situation is getting worse by the second.

“Well,” Mike said, clearing his throat. “I think... I might have an idea.” He hesitated for a moment, unsure if he should continue. “Do you trust me?” he asked softly, a warm smile appearing on his face, which felt unusual. You swore you had never seen him smile like that before.

You look at him suspiciously. Why did he ask if you trusted him? You weren't stupid. He always tried to mess with people in some way. But the longer you stayed like this, the more uncomfortable it became. 

"Fine. Do what you want. Just make it quick, please. This is humiliating as it is."

Mike swallowed hard, taking a deep breath. "Okay," he said, nodding once. "Hold on tight," Mike whispered before getting behind you, his fingertips shaky as he slid his hands on your hips.

You let out a small gasp as your body prickles at Mike’s touch. He pressed himself against you, his body heat enveloping yours. As he tried to pull, his hardened member hit your ass multiple times. You could feel Mike’s heart racing against your back.

You didn't want him this close, but you couldn't deny that it felt nice in a weird, twisted way. As Mike grips your hips harder, using more force than before, your brain stops functioning for a second, unable to stop you from letting out a soft moan that you were desperately trying to avoid vocalizing out loud.

Mike froze, his heart pounding in his chest. He didn't expect you to react this way. The moan sent waves of pleasure through his body, making him even harder against your ass. He tried to focus on the task at hand. He didn’t want to imagine himself pounding you as you were stuck, but it was becoming increasingly difficult with every passing second.

“I’m sorry!” Both said it at uneven times.

“Let’s just ignore what happened and help me get off.” At this moment, you wish you could crawl under a rock and die, but you’ll probably get stuck there too.

Mike chuckled lightly, then nodded at your words, trying to clear his thoughts. He took a deep breath before sliding his hands back onto your hips. This time, he pulled with all his force, grunting as he tried to free you from the couch. The pressure building inside him couldn’t be denied, and it was clear that he was struggling to contain himself. With that, as his bulge caresses your ass, he lets a loud, desperate groan out of his dry lips. You gasped as one hand was finally free.

“It’s working…” As much as you want to hate this feeling, it’s making you feel some way. You wish you guys could forget about this so he can fuck you hard against the couch. Unintentionally, you let your ass follow the rhythm of his pulls.

Mike's mind was a mess of lust and confusion. He couldn't believe the legs in front of him were shaking in need. He was so focused on freeing you from the couch that he didn't even notice how his hips were moving in a pattern.

"Almost there." His voice was a mix of care and exhaustion. As you feel your hand slowly get loose, you decide to speak.

"Look, we clearly are... avoiding the fact that we’re really turned on right now.”

Mike’s attention suddenly went to the words being spoken, his breath catching in his throat, trying to process them. You're right, he thought. They were both so turned on by this, and they couldn't deny it any longer. He let out a shaky breath before he spoke.

"I know," he whispered. "But we have to stop."

"I just want to make sure you're okay," he continued, trying to sound calm and collected. "Once we're out of here, we can... we can do whatever you want."

“No.” The simple answer made him still. “Once I get out, we will be too embarrassed to even look at each other. You can’t see my face right now; I can’t see yours, so... let’s do it now.” You suggested. It felt humiliating; you hated that you sounded so needy, but for some reason, Mike had that effect on you now.

Mike was terrified and excited. He had never been so high on lust by someone before, and the thought of finally having you beg him to fuck you right here, in this awkward position, with your face buried in the cushions, was driving him crazy. It is like his darkest fantasy is finally going to come true. Without any thought, he removed his pants rapidly and slid a condom down his shaft.

Mike takes his hands up to your sides, gently caressing your skin as he slowly pulls you back towards him. His cock rubbed against the thin fabric of your shorts, which slightly hugged your soaking folds, eliciting a moan from both of you.

"Are you sure?" he asked, his voice shaky and barely above a whisper.

“Yes.”

Mike nodded slowly, his breath coming in short, unsure gasps. He leaned forward, pressing his lips against your ear. "Then let me show you how much I want you." He removed your shorts slowly and steadily. As soon as your underwear was removed, he licked his fingers before settling them in your folds. 

Mike’s hands were always something you stared at in secret when he wouldn’t notice, and now his rough, manly hand is wrapped around your most sensitive areas. The heat building up inside of you from just his touch alone was hunting.

"Please," you managed to croak out as he teased you mercilessly. Mike chuckled lightly before finally giving in and sliding his long fingers into you. You moaned loudly as he started moving them in and out, hitting all the right spots that made you feel pleased. His free hand reached down to roughly fondle your breasts through your shirt. You arched your back into his touch, begging for more. But instead of giving you what you craved, Mike pulled away suddenly, leaving you panting heavily.

Before you could ask why he stopped so suddenly, you felt his firm grasp forcing you to spread your legs. Your entrance was wet and inviting to him. Mike gently pushed his hips forward. His cockhead pressed against your tight cunt, and you could feel him throbbing with need. He paused for a moment, gathering his courage, before slowly pushing forward. It wasn't long before you started to whimper harder. The smell of the combined arousal filled the small room, fueling him even more.

Mike moaned loudly, feeling you give in to him. He thrust his hips forward, burying deep inside with one swift motion. Your warmth engulfed him, and he couldn't believe how good it felt. 

"Fuck,” he whispered in your ear. "You feel so good." His raspy voice and uneven breaths made a high-pitched whine escape from your lips. As a response, Mike leaned closer, making his member fully inside you as he nibbled your ear.

“Was this your plan all along? Is that why you started to wear those slutty shorts more often?”

You tried to choke some words out, but the feeling of him inside you like this was so ecstatic and addictive that the only thing you could do was take him as he placed.

He started to move, his hips rolling back and forth in a steady rhythm. “You didn’t answer me.” His hot, sweaty body overpowered yours. “Use your words for me, would you?” he asked, his voice as delicate as his touch. Mike’s hand found the freed hand of yours, intertwining his fingers like he had to hold on for dear life. Every time he pulled out, only to push back in, he could feel you clenching around him. It was the most intense feeling he'd ever experienced. His breath came in ragged gasps as he lost himself by being inside you while you were helplessly stuck. 

The only thing you could do was shake your head side to side at his question, but the real answer was more complicated than that. The first time you wore shorts, it wasn’t intentional, but when he saw you with them, he seemed to listen to you with more attention as you scolded him for not doing his chores that day, so you started to use them in your favor from time to time.

Mike chuckled at your clear lie, and he started to speed up, your body pressing against the couch more intensely as he pounded you harder.

You didn’t imagine Mike being so good with his dick. It is not like you know his sexual life, but in your eyes, he seemed the type to not go around sleeping with people. His life is too stressful for him to even care for his own needs. Maybe it's all pent-up horniness.

Mike's eyes were closed, his face twisted in pleasure as he took you with long, deep strokes. He couldn't believe how good it felt to finally have you like this. He knew he shouldn't be enjoying it this much, but he couldn't help himself. He was lost in the moment, completely consumed by his desires.

His hand started to smack your behind. His slaps weren’t too strong to hurt you, but enough to make you gasp. As he increased the speed and started to smack harder, you let out sounds of pain and pleasure. “You can take it, baby, it’s okay,” Mike said, his calm voice contrasting his vile actions before slapping your ass one last time.

As he continued to thrust, he leaned down, biting your shoulder, almost like he wanted to hide his whiny moans. "Shit," he groaned again, pulling out of you slightly before pushing back in with a rougher force. "You're so tight."

“You need to stop pulling out... it’s cruel.” You said in between cries, his length making you feel lightheaded as if you could almost see stars.

Mike's breath hitched in his throat at your words. He couldn't believe he was doing this to you. Without warning, he pulled out completely, leaving you empty. You could feel him throbbing against your ass, aching to be inside you again. His hands gripped your hips tightly, holding you in place as he leaned over, his chest heaving.

"I'm sorry," he whispered hoarsely. "I can't help myself."

“What?!” You stuttered; the sudden emptiness felt like hell.

“Do you always have to be an asshole?!”

Mike's heart broke at your words. He knew he was being cruel, but he couldn't help himself. He needed you too much.

"No," he replied softly. "I don't."

His hands travel slowly from your hips to your chest. Cupping your breasts through your oversized shirt. He took a deep breath, trying to calm himself down before he lost control again.

"I'm sorry," he whispered again, his voice quiet. "I know I've been an asshole this past month. There is no excuse for my behavior but—fuck!" Without waiting for a response, he leaned forward, pressing his lips against the back of your neck. His tip pressed against your entrance again, and he whimpered, unable to hold back any longer.

"Please forgive me," he said as he kissed your neck desperately. "Let me repay you for my bad behavior."

Feeling his hot breath in your ear made you squeal. Your knees felt weak, and the air seemed to be overwhelmingly steamy. The only thought you have in your head is Mike pleasuring you and driving you to your limits.

With no response from you, his hands let go of your chest and quickly went to your shoulder. The sudden movement made you completely free from the couch edges. You immediately look down. The realization of what you guys were doing just settled in.

“Just look at me, please.” With a light force, he pulled you to face him, his body above yours. He is a mess. Red face with anxious teary eyes, sweat coming out of his forehead and traveling to his neck. He was a complete utter mess because of you, but you couldn’t deny the sight of him like this was so dreamy.

“Please, just forgive me.” Mike’s knees quickly touched the ground as his puppy eyes looked up at you. “I've been an asshole to you because I like you, and I know it’s wrong because we’re roommates, but... damn it. “His eyes shifted to your thighs, shaking in need, but the only thought in his mind was him being wrapped in them. He coughs, trying to regain composure.

After several moments of silence, Mike finally found the strength to speak, his heart racing faster than ever before. "I... I apologize for everything," he managed to croak out. "I'm sorry, but please, please let me feel you again." His voice cracked slightly as he reached out tentatively towards you, wrapping his arms around your leg in an embrace.

You hesitated for a moment, contemplating whether to accept his apology or leave him there alone. But then something changed inside you. Maybe it was just seeing how vulnerable he truly was, but you decided to relent. Reaching over to gently place your hand on his cheek, he pulled closer until your bodies finally connected once again. "It's alright," you whispered, giving him a small smile. “I sort of like you to-" Mike didn’t hear your confession. As soon as you said it’s alright, his arms picked you up with ease, making his way into his room.

He placed your body in his bed. “There you go.” He had an ear-to-ear smile. Mike turned on his nightstand lamp. The room was lit up slightly as the sunrise was shining through the windows, but the lamp brought more clarity to his room, which was tidied up nicely. If he was so obsessed with keeping his room clean, why couldn’t he do that with the apartment?

You find him scattering for something desperately. Lube. Once the lube is finally in his hand, he crawls into the bed with you, placing his swollen lips from all the biting he had to do to remain quiet into yours.

From the corners of your eyes, you can see him placing some lube on his palm and lightly spreading it across his cock, lightly stroking himself. A light whimper was vocalized as he kissed you. With one final stroke, he gets on top of you, a mischievous smirk plastered across his face as the thought of finally getting to see you lose your mind while his cock is inside you sends him waves of pleasure. Mike then looked at you with pleading eyes, asking for permission to continue, which you allowed.

This time, he didn’t hold back as he buried himself into your tight walls. The sudden coldness of the lube makes you shake. The combination of the lubricant and Mike’s hot member is driving you wild with desire. Making your hands dig into his back and your legs wrap around his waist, holding him closer to you.

At your action, Mike picks up the pace, his hips moving faster and harder, his cock slamming into you with each powerful thrust. His cockhead contracts and releases, sending pleasure through your sensitive spot repeatedly. He groans louder, his breathing becoming heavier as he loses himself in the rhythm of their passionate lovemaking.

“I can’t believe we’re finally doing this.,” Mike said it under his breath, almost like he was speaking to himself.

“Mi- Mike.” His confession made your heartbeat follow the same speedy rhythm as his thrust. Your eyes were wide shut as your fingertips dug into his back.

Mike whines, and his fingers dig deeper into your hips, leaving marks that would likely turn into bruises later. You were not going to be the only one marking him. Mike wanted you to remember this. He then increased the speed of his thrusts, his hips moving faster than ever before as if he needed this release just as much as you did.

His rhythmical motion created a wet slapping sound that echoed around them, filling the room with the sounds of your lovemaking. His breath was raw against your neck, his lips leaving a trail of saliva along your collarbone. His tongue traced your jawline, nibbling and teasing your earlobes before returning to your mouth for a deep, passionate kiss.

He moaned again, his voice hoarse with desire. "Oh god, you feel so fucking good, baby." As Mike said this, he picked up the pace even more, his hips slamming against yours in a relentless rhythm. His cockhead rubbed against your G-spot, sending shockwaves of pleasure through your body.

“I’m close.” You announced it with hesitation.

Bucking his hips harder, pushing his member deeper into you again and again with no mercy. "Cum for me, princess," Mike murmured. "Let me make you feel good. "Let me please you.” 

Mike’s words were like magic, his cock hitting your G-spot in perfect rhythm, driving you over the edge. With a loud, primal cry, your body convulsed around him, and you felt yourself climaxing intensely. Your tight walls contracted powerfully around his thick member, milking him dry as he continued to thrust inside of you.

As your orgasm subsided, Mike followed suit, his climax hitting him like a freight train. His cock twitched violently inside of you as he whined. His hold on your waist loosened slightly, but he didn't pull out just yet. Instead, he rested heavily on top of you, his chest heaving as he tried to catch his breath.

“So…” You said it awkwardly as you patted Mike’s head. 

“About the chores...”

Mike chuckled lightly, his lips forming a dumb smile as he looked up to you. 

“Yes, I’ll do them now. I promise.” Mike rolled his eyes and then placed his hand on your cheek. Caressing it with his thumb. “And… I’ll be a better roommate for you.” 

You nodded. “Thanks, Mike.” 

“I noticed you cleaned the apartment... So let me get you cleaned up.” Mike stood up and walked to his bathroom. You could hear the water hitting the bathtub. As you peeked to get a better glance, Mike turned his head to meet your gaze. 

“Let’s have a bath together.” He said this as he disappeared from view to grab a foaming bubble bottle.

“And who knows, maybe we could do round two.” Mike’s tone was cheeky and playful. He leaned into the door, looking at you up and down. Proud of how messy he made you. 

“Come on.” Mike smiled as he went to reach your hand, walking you into the bathtub.

FIN. Hope you guys liked it. Help me choose my next smut here!

Thank you so much for reading.

[fleetingcalypso]

Hello love! i'm absolutely enraptured by your writing. If i could, i'd love to request a Henry Winter x Reader enemies to lovers? Like an absolutely cut-throat academic rivalry that culminates in a dramatic fight and reconciliation at Francis' house? Thank you!

≋ Sometimes attraction blossoms even in the most hostile of places. I'm sure having Henry's life could only benefit from having a rival, turning his world upside down, keeping him on his toes. This is one of my longest works yet, also one I'm not too keen on, nonetheless I pray it captures your interest.

≋ Henry Winter x GN!Reader ≋

≋ Word Count: 4582 words.

≋ TW: mentions of dr*gs, consumption of alcohol, violence (Henry receives a slap in a moment of ire), Edmund "Bunny" Corcoran.

I remember when I initially stepped foot in Julian’s office: most of the words he spoke are lost in time but one thing is forever stitched in the fabric of my memory, he patted me on the shoulder as an affectionate mentor would and with an award winning smile he said, “You’ll fit right in.” It made me feel validated at the time, like I had a place in the world, a bird fallen out of its nest reunited with its family at last. He wasted no seconds in telling me how he would usually limit his students to the odd number of only five, but he could tell there was something about the way I carried myself that would not disturb the peaceful routine he had meticulously crafted.

Classes with Julian were anything but peaceful, to my displeasure, not because of him, not at all. He was a splendid instructor, I often found myself on the edge of my seat with each one of his words. With no surprise, I was not the only one placing him on a crystal pedestal. 

One single man made each class feel as though I was being tortured by demons, poked by sharp pointy tails. Each of my comments was brushed off, deemed useless and void of meaning, each paragraph, line, even a single word I read was followed by a deep voice interrupting me and correcting my pronunciation with great emphasis. Thankfully, I had found friends as well, other than a snake spiraling around my ankle, threatening to consume me whole.

The root of all of my headaches, as much as I’d love to strip him of his name, is called Henry Winter.

It’s not to say that I’d let him walk all over me. On more than one occasion, I was victorious after our heated discussions about the accuracy of a translated text or if we were to choose one of the five Greek cases over another. Following each argument his jaw would clench and he’d let out a curt “Very well, then,” before turning his head away and acting as if nothing had happened, although I could without fail notice the tension in his body. It was rather easy, for some unknown reason we’d always find ourselves sitting next to each other, so close our knees touched.

“Henry,  is there anything you’re unable to do?” One day I asked him, in Julian’s momentary absence, the question felt only natural to pose: with his expertise in various languages and his familiarity with the world in Ancient Greece being so fascinating. The taunting tone in my voice caught the attention of not only my interlocutor, but the rest of our classmates as well. Six pairs of eyes were fixed on me, some looking more amused than others.  His response came only after Bunny elbowed him, egging him on, “Ensuring you will not plague my days, apparently,” he said, pushing his glasses further up his nose. The venom he spat failed to enter my system, nonetheless it makes my gaze narrow. 

“You always know what to say.” It’s not a question this time, but an observation which he rewarded with a “Of course I do. Lack of words is for the uncultured.” Our interaction was cut short due to Julian returning, but that would not be the end of it.

That very same day, after our lesson was over we all stood to leave, his hand found the spot on the small of my back as he walked past me, as if it belonged there by birthright. Sometimes I still feel it, the memory creeps up on me in the middle of the night, it keeps me awake whilst making me want more and more of him, like a cruel, vicious, thrilling drug I am unable to have a sober day from.

Class wasn’t the only occasion of the day where we would have contrasting thoughts: once, it happened during a morning when all seven of us sat in the library, open books and notebooks scattered all over our table, “This is going nowhere,” groaned Charles pushing the wrinkled paper he was writing onto towards my direction, “Take a look at this. What do you think?” 

It stroked my ego that he chose my opinion over Henry’s and by a flying glance I noticed a slight surprised glint in his blue eyes, though he was quick to conceal it by focusing onto the fountain pan in his hand. I wasn’t the only one surprised by our friend’s choice in who should aid him in his translation. 

After a short look, the mistake was clear, “Ah, here it is. Your writing is not inherently wrong, ‘Who dares think one thing, and another tell, my heart detests him as the gates of hell,’ while it is correct, it could be worded in a different way, try: ‘For hateful to me as the gates of Hādēs is that man who hides one thought in his mind, but speaks another.’ That should flow better.” Just to be certain - and perhaps to bother him just a small amount - I turned to Henry, “Shouldn’t it?” He didn’t move for a second before humming and nodding, although I might have overheard him whisper “You’re doing too much,” under his breath. When I handed the paper back to its owner I could spot Francis with his hand over his lips, trying to mask a grin, obviously amused by my exchange with our friend.

The amount of times we’ve debated over the littlest of things, it would take all the stars in the universe to count, and it still would not be enough. 

“You’re slow today.” He whispered to me one day, when I hadn’t jumped at the opportunity to answer one of Julian’s queries about the Iliad, his breath tickled my ear and sent goosebumps down the back of my neck. It's true, I was slow. Henry's cologne for some insane reason was all I could think about: his closeness to me, as much as it was far by greatly affecting my attention, it certainly was reluctantly occupying a part of my mind. “Have you considered that not every thought should be spoken out loud?” I argued, the left corner of his lips lifted into a crooked half smile, “Interesting. You could benefit from your own advice.” He said, and it ended there. It left me with something I can’t quite recognize.

Ultimately, every day turned into a competition: petty, small things that held my heart hostage, like who was the first to enter Julian’s office at the beginning of the day, who turned in an essay the fastest, whose penmanship was more aesthetically pleasing and whose comments in class were rewarded with more praise. 

Another episode in which I thought our rivalry was set in stone, from the very moment he laid eyes on me, happened during a quiet Wednesday, and we were enjoying a delicious lunch at the twins’ place. Camilla had cooked lamb chops, the rest of us had brought refreshments and some side dishes.  Henry got a hold of my chair before I could grab it, he pulled it out for me then took a seat in the chair furthest away from mine. 

In the middle of our meal, as I was diving in for seconds, Bunny interrupted the calm atmosphere that had formed by being his usual exasperating self and kicking my leg from under the table, “You know,” He began waving his fork in my direction, with his lips still dirty with food, “I’ve always wondered, whenever you look at Julian with stars in your eyes, is it because you truly care about what he has to say, or is it because you’re trying to suck up to him and get easy marks by being a teacher’s pet? He’s too old for you, you know?” From the seat next to me I swear I could hear Charles choke on his food, Richard’s jaw fell open, Francis looked positively disgusted, Camilla -poor soul- pushed her plate away, as the mental image of me being in love with our professor was plastered into her unwilling mind. The only one with no visible reaction was Henry. 

“That’s what I thought as well, at first,” He noted, dabbing his lips with his napkin, “Class with Julian is not a slice of bread even the dirty pigeons on the sidewalk can stumble upon. It is only a matter of time before you realize what blessing you’ve found.” He was a master of masking a mocking undertone in his voice, along with an air of superiority which implied that the one thing he was waiting for was for me to blow up, to storm away, pack my stuff and leave Vermont for good.

“Don’t you think assuming my inability to follow lessons with the rest of you is an insult to Julian’s ability to tell whether someone is worth his time or not? If I were him I’d be quite offended, if I can say so.”

The glare he shot at me, with his blue eyes piercing through his glasses, was enough for me to know I had won; the way he was gripping his fork, his knuckles white as ever, let me know that this was not only a win, this was one of his battleships sinking. This was war, as far as I was concerned, it could only end either with an impossible truce or until one of us was dead in a ditch. 

Not wanting to entirely ruin lunch, Francis was the one to change the subject. What he said I do not remember, as I was too busy basking in my own subtle victory to pay attention, but it did work and Henry made no further jabs at me that day. The same cannot be said for Bunny, who seemed to find it exhilarating that I would stand up to Henry the way I did and spent the rest of the day testing my patience.

Since that day, life has been notably bloodless between me and the human thorn in my side, with the occasional exception. I’ve come to notice that, when he is not wasting his time trying his best to get on my nerves, he passes as a truly handsome man. It might be something about the sheer size of him, or it could very well be the way he looks at me,his gaze permanently deeper than the ocean itself, as well as his hands, veiny and large, yet rarely rough in movements. I’m ashamed to admit I’ve spent far too many instants passing glimpses at his fingers, as they slide along the pages of books.

If I have to stand in front of a jury of Gods, though, and speak my naked truth - with no censors - I’d probably reveal that what is so fascinating about Henry is the way he is a bottomless well of knowledge about Ancient Greece. He is devoted to it, as he is devoted to Julian and in some sick twisted way I can’t help but find that veneration attractive. 

Against my better judgment, I find myself missing our banter more than anything. The way he stared me down used to give me goosebumps, it still does when my eyelids close and I imagine it.

Summer comes faster than I imagine, faster than lightning striking the Earth, and in the blink of an eye I find myself at Francis’s aunt’s house. All of us fell into a comfortable rhythm while residing here, it was a breath of fresh air compared to our daily life. Playing the piano, reading in the vast library, excursions out to the lake, we kept ourselves busy, enjoying the countryside, keeping what -at the time- felt like the biggest secret of our lives from Richard.

At my awakening I was delighted in discovering everyone else was still deep in sleep. I took it as permission to make some breakfast. I had placed two cups of coffee on the table when he made his way into the kitchen, sleeves rolled up to his elbows and not a single sight of his usual exhaustion on his face. Morning sunlight shines onto his skin, giving it a warm glow, he looks positively saintlike. An archangel descending from the heavens, waiting to be welcomed to my mass, just to notify me that the end is coming sooner than I expect. “I made coffee.” I said, setting a cup in front of him. He looked at it for a moment, just for a moment, before his doubt shrouded eyes met mine,  “I have a feeling you’ve poisoned this.” As he was debating whether to accept my offer, Charles joined us. He accepted a cup without a moment’s hesitation, downed it while throwing his head back, then walked off to God knows where, not like I care much.

Henry took a sip only after witnessing that it was indeed safe to do so, I did as well. As the hot liquid met his taste buds I could see him regret he ever came into the kitchen. It was coffee, yes, although unlike my cup which had sugar at the bottom of it, the one he was drinking from had salt in it. A smile tugged at my lips, “Good morning,” I said watching his face scrunch up and force himself to not spit out what was in his mouth. A puzzled look possesses my face as he doesn’t look away from my eyes, not for one second, his eyebrows scrunch while he doesn’t spill a drop of salted coffee, it all slides down his throat. “Good morning.” He replies, coldly, tongue sliding over his bottom lip. 

By the time everyone had come to have breakfast, whether it was a glass of wine, whiskey or any drink of their choice, Henry hadn’t moved. With him following my every move, it felt only natural to imagine he’d be scheming something, and my hypothesis would soon reveal itself to ring true, leaving me like a sailor at sea, in the middle of an impenetrable storm.

The sun burns high in the sky, then it slowly melts into the sea, showering the world in tones of red, gold and purple; we spent dawn-to-dark  in nature, feeling the blades of grass under our feet, taking turns sitting on a boat floating down the lake and resting by the shadows of the trees with books in our lap, the seraphic nature of the day could have been immortalized in a painting by Michelangelo himself, but no amount of expertise with the brush would be able to capture the unmitigated calm that reigned. 

Such a glorious day deserves to have an equally splendid ending, suggested Francis once we retired back to the house. Bottles were hastily opened, alcohol floating in glasses and finding a home between thirsty lips. Inebriation wasted no time in letting  inhibitions be on the loose. One small insignificant disagreement accounted as an act of hypothetical insubordination broke into an altercation between me and my nemesis. It went on forever, such an interminable occasion that our friends abandoned us in the kitchen and went on to enjoy their drinks in the library.

“I don’t think you should be here,” His vicious words didn’t faze me at that point, the knowledge that in his idea of a perfect world I was nowhere to be found wasn’t lost on me, “You should get in your car and drive far, far away from where my eye can’t reach.” The first two buttons of his shirt were nonchalantly unbuttoned distracting me for just a moment, the way his Adam’s apple bobbed in his throat with each sound caught my attention. 

“Careful my friend,” I answered, fingers growing cold from the cool glass in my hand, being gripped with an unusual stability given the wine floating in my system, his face twitched at my name for him, “It almost sounds like my very existence bothers you more than one could imagine.”

“It does. Bother me, it is. It bothers me greatly. I don’t think you should be here” He repeats. As magnanimous as I am, I am no martyr. My glass hits the table with a thud, bright red splashes onto the tablecloth as I raise my voice louder than I would like, “What the fuck is your problem?!” Never in my life had I met a human as frustrating as him, “I can’t imagine I’ve done much to you the first day I sat in that office, yet, you’ve been nothing but unkind towards me.”

“What is my problem?!” He pushes himself to his feet, his voice loud to match mine, “You are my problem!  You’re always having something to prove, buzzing about like a working insect devoted to the queen bee, it’s exhausting to even have you sit next to me.”  I’m tempted to spill my drink in his face, what a sight it would be: savory red drops slipping down his glasses and hair, wetting his cheeks and jaw until it reached his lip. Instead of that I just shove him, resulting in him stumbling a step backwards, clearly not expecting the mouse to fight back against the owl trying to catch it.

“Have you ever even glimpsed in a mirror?! You act as if you’re so all-mighty, like the rest of the world is merely ants under your shoe! It’s nerve wracking when you find someone you can’t step all over isn't it? How does it feel to have found the one person in the world that does not bow down to you?” He enrages me, in all truth. I can’t bring myself to understand why it is, that now of all times, he makes my blood boil, in more ways than one, “Does it turn your stomach upside down? Is it the only thing you can think about?” 

His chest moved for just a single, shaky breath and by now I knew I was playing with fire. If I got burned by touching the sun, at the very least it means I flew high enough to touch it. My hands moved again, ready to push him once again however just a breath before my lips could part to berate him even more his hands caught my wrists.

“You’re a parasite.” He hisses, lowering his face close to mine, by my reflection in the lenses of his glasses it is plain to see his choice of words leaves a mark, not on my face as a slap would, but on my emotions, “You’re a tiny, disgusting, parasite. You’ve single handedly infiltrated yourself in my modus operandi and I am just waiting for the moment I can finally take a moment to breathe again. Since the day you’ve set foot in that office I have, not once, had a chance to relax.” My body reacts before I can allow it to do so, the red handprint forming on his right cheek and his glasses being askew -almost on the brink of falling-  confirm that I did, indeed, strike him in a fit of rage. How I was able to free one of my limbs from his death grip I do not know, adrenaline does some wonderful miracles.

“If I’m a parasite,” My voice comes out in a low growl, “Then you best pay attention I don’t end up killing you.” The more I stand in his presence, in this kitchen, having our chests rising in synch with the slowest breaths we have ever taken, I recognize just how much we latch onto each other, how we’ve stitched our existence together with an obsidian thread the very first time we sat with our knees grazing.

“You’ll be the death of me.” He admits in a whisper I can barely hear. Had our faces not been as close as they are, I’d probably would have thought he’d been mouthing nonsense. One second he’s all I can see, with his monumental figure blocking everything else, the next he’s walking away from me, his glass of wine sits on the tablecloth, still full, untouched.

Now I know how Pandora felt as she unintentionally let the vase she was gifted almost grow empty, now I could describe in meticulous detail what a bee feels after its first and final sting.

I do not join my friends in their gathering. My chest aches with something unfamiliar, comfort certainly won’t be known for as long as I find myself anywhere near Henry Winter.

The moon has reached its place in the sky by barely an hour now, a pearl glistening onto a fabric of pure pitch-black, tiny crystals surrounding it, making sure it will never be alone forever and ever. I’ve never seen a tapestry as breathtaking as the one mirroring on the calm surface of the lake I’m strolling by to gather my thoughts. Henry is somewhat right, deep inside of me I can feel it, I’ll be the death of him one way or another. He’s the king, guiding his troops and his courtesans from the comfortable seat of an opulent throne and I’m an approaching invasion, inevitable and threatening destruction for the kingdom he has built from nothing, rooted in the deepest of sins: pride. Hubris seems to get the better of us both with each breath we take. 

My anger had settled in the brief sixty minutes I’ve spent admiring the darkness, by myself. Some fireflies with their microscopic body attempt to irradiate the entire lakeside with light, oblivious to their size or the impossibility of their mission.

Tirelessly I recount my life at Hampden, every single moment I can recall gets forced under scrutiny: “You’ll fit right in,” Julian had told me, in his eyes there lived a conviction I’ve noticed only during his enthralling lessons. I’ve only ever known him to speak the holy truth, doubting feels like going against everything I’ve ever known. In my solitude I find contentment, time flows steadily, mimicking a river in which nymphs could find respite.

“So this is where you were hiding.” A deep voice rises among the chirping of crickets, “We couldn’t find you at the house.” And just like that the incantation I’d fashioned myself in dissolves in the cool night air, joining the fireflies in their dance to please the stars and the moon. I hear him before I see him. A colorless shadow approaches me, in an impossibly inky abyss of nature, it can only be him; out of all our friends he’s the only one that can tell what bizarre chemical reactions my brain produces, he’s the only one that can read my thoughts like they were the very first lines of the Iliad, because more often than not he’s thinking the exact same thing. 

‘The wrath of Peleus' son, the direful spring Of all the Grecian woes, O Goddess, sing.’ I recite in my mind as the barely human shadow only gets closer and closer, ‘That wrath which hurled to Pluto's gloomy reign the souls of mighty chiefs untimely slain, whose limbs, unburied on the naked shore,’ his footsteps stop behind me, he wants to speak as do I, but neither dare utter a sound, ‘Devouring dogs and hungry vultures tore: Since great Achilles and Atrides strove, such was the sovereign doom, and such the will of Jove!’ 

Unconsciously I found more satisfaction in rehearsing the words out loud, “Declare, O Muse. In what ill-fated hour, sprung the fierce strife, from what offended power?” And of course, he continued them effortlessly: “Latona's son a dire contagion spread, and heaped the camp with mountains of the dead; The king of men his reverend priest defied, and, for the king's offence, the people died.”  We will never stop trying to compete with each other, it is a losing battle: it’s asking the moon to stop being the unmatchable muse for romance poems, it’s asking the cosmos and all of its constellations to disappear.

“You’re not always honest,” I mumbled, disregarding if he’d consider me weak or frail, ignoring the way I could feel him burn a hole in the back of my head, “Tonight you were what I think is the most honest you’ve been in a long time.”  He’s my tormentor just as much as I am his. 

His knee grazes against mine in the instant he finds a seat on the grass, next to me. His lingering accidental touch takes a hold of me, it’s addictive. “You are a parasite.” He insists and for a moment I think we’re about to raise our voices at each other again, but then he continues with a softer voice, “You’ve latched into my mind, consuming every corner of my life and I am defenseless to it.”

“What do you mean?”

I can’t perfectly see his face in the moonlight, but if he is by any means like me as I know he is, I can consider correct the hypothesis of his pupils being dilated enough to swallow me whole. He drinks me in, like the salty cup of coffee I offered him, he doesn't leave anything behind, doesn’t waste a drop.

“You’re in possession of a great intellect. For a second in your life, put aside the countless feuds we were active participants in and figure it out. You’re hurling me into unwanted and unknown territory.” I know what he means. He could speak every language in the world and I’d still know what each word signifies, in its deepest meaning. It baffles me that he is able to discern my brilliance. He’d never lauded me so. There’s a first for everything, it seems.

“I am not a threat to your leadership, I’m not trying to be.”

He laughs at my words, to my surprise: dry and void of humor, “It’s not my leadership that’s compromised. It’s my heart and mind. While at first I found our game bothersome and quite frankly childish, I’ve unearthed a yearning for it, so influential on my being that I find myself hopelessly wishing you’d dismiss yourself from my life, with the result that I might go back to when you were not the only thing inhabiting my thoughts.”

“I won’t deny I’ve allowed myself to feel the same.” In the dim lighting we sit, I’m appreciative my confession will be the only truly limpid particle of me, I’m not ready for him to see me as I am, not yet, “I yearn for our arguments, for the furrow in your brow and your disapproving stare with each of our disagreements, most of all I yearn for your stimulating presence. Henry, you’re quite the character.”

“So are you. Impossibly infuriating, and delightfully of the essence for me.”

Our friends are waiting for us, I’m acutely aware of it, nonetheless I find myself giving into selfishness for tonight. It is a long way to go, for us two to build a bridge, but with one brick at a time perhaps it is not only a bridge we can erect, but a whole kingdom, with two thrones instead of a solitary one and no invasion to knock at its doors. If his hand slips on top of mine I pretend I do not notice, just like he doesn’t mention my head resting itself on his shoulder. The lake has never looked better, with a bright spotlight shining onto the calm surface, ripped out the pages of a fairytale. Maybe with enough time and effort the fireflies will be able to shine as bright as the moon. 

[murmel-malt]

Hedaera Targaryen - 92 AC

Viserys Targaryen x Hedaera Targaryen (OFC) prev / next wordcount: 1.6k summery: my answer to the question: what if Viserys and Daemon had a little sister? canon divergent dance of the dragons au featuring canon and original characters.

chapter summery: After Aemon Targaryen's death on Tarth, King Jaehaerys names his second son Baelon Prince of Dragonstone and also decides on the future of Prince Baelon's children. His plans are not well recieved by his youngest granddaughter.

A/N: note that english is not my first language so there will probably be some grammar mistakes.

92 AC - Kingslanding

Once Hedaera had thought that changes happened slowly, like the changing of the seasons. It took years for summer to pass into autumn and for autumn to pass into winter. So slowly that one barely noticed it until a raven came from the Citadel to announce it. But now she knows better. Now she knows that things can also change in the blink of an eye; and she hates it.

Just last week they had celebrated uncle Aemon becoming a grandfather. It had been a grand family dinner, where Rhaenys announced her pregnancy to the rest of the family. Grandmother had been thrilled and even Grandfather had looked less sour than he usually did. Everybody had been happy. 

Now her uncle is dead, killed on Tarth. Drowned in his own blood by a crossbow bolt to the throat, that’s what the messenger had said as Daera had her ear pressed against the door, eager to catch some of the things the adults never let her hear. Her grandmother always said that she was too curious for her own good. 

Rhaenys had admonished her for eavesdropping when Daera had gone to comfort her afterwards. While they are not as close as Daera is with Aemma or Gael, Rhaenys is her cousin too and she loves her no less. She had felt silly, stumbling over her words of comfort. After all, what comfort could she - a girl of only eight - offer her - a grown woman of eight and ten and mother to be? But her cousin had only pulled her into a hug and thanked her with a gentle and watery smile. They had talked for a bit afterwards about Rhaenys’ baby and Driftmark, which Daera had only ever visited for her cousin’s wedding two years ago.

They stand together now in the throne room. Grandmother and Rhaenys wear a pinched expression of carefully masked anger and Daera hates that she is too small to be told or asked anything of importance. Grandfather is sitting up on the Iron Throne, this ugly and dark and jagged and pointy thing that is quite dangerous to climb up if you are unsteady on your feet. Not that she had ever tried and nearly tripped over the uneven steps.

But Grandfather had always been sure footed when taking his seat at the top. Just like he had this time. His intense gaze sweeps the hall before he speaks and Daera’s world shatters.

Her father is heir now and she is to marry Viserys.

“My sweet”, Grandmother says gently, reaching out to cup her cheek as she always does. Usually Daera would appreciate any and all gentle affection from the Queen, but not now; not like this. With a small cry she slaps her hand away, ignoring the admonishing warning from her father and furiously rubs at her eyes, trying and failing to keep the tears away. She hates that she is crying like a little girl. They will never take her seriously like this.

“No,”she says in between a sob, “I don’t want to marry Viserys.” She has lost count how often she had told them by now and still nobody seems to listen to her. “I won’t! He is stupid and boring and- and old. He never listens to me and only talks about boring things.” Her hands are fisted in her dress, dark splotches where her tears hit, marking the soft golden fabric. “I don’t want to marry him”, she repeats weakly.

Grandmother smiles gently as she kneels in front of her. Something dark and angry in Hedaera wants to make that smile drop from her face.

“You are still young, Daera”, Grandmother tells her. “And Viserys is too. He will grow up and so will you. You will come to appreciate each other and when he is King” - Alysanne’s expression twists for the blink of an eye - “you will be his Queen, and your children will be the princes and princesses of the realm.” Her stomach twists at the thought and she suddenly feels sick.

“But I don’t want to be Queen. And I don’t want to marry Viserys”, she screams the way she had always been admonished for and Alysanne and Baelon flinch at the shrill break of her voice. Hedaera continues undeterred: “Tell him! Tell grandfather I don’t want to marry him. Tell him to find someone else. Please!”

“Daera”, her father sighs and she looks to him with teary green eyes. He beckons her closer but her feet remain glued to the ground. There will be no safety in his arms today. She can see it in his face. He had once said he would protect her from anything that would ever try to harm her, but apparently not this. She feels even more sick.

“I know this seems scary but it is for the best. Viserys is a fine young man and your brother”, Baelon says. “He will treat you well and you will be happy together. Just like your mother and I have been.”

Understanding hits her. She will get no help from them. Father and Grandmother won’t listen to her. They will only tell her that she is still young and will change her mind; that she will come to love Viserys and that they will be happy together. 

“And how has that ended for my mother?” She watches as all color drains from her Father’s and Grandmother’s faces at the reminder of Alyssa Targaryen’s death. The dark, angry thing in Hedaera rejoices at the pain she has inflicted. And she does not feel bad about it. If they so easily condemn her to a miserable future as her brother’s wife, she will make them equally as miserable.

Without another word she storms out of the room, ignoring their calls and slamming the door behind her as she goes. Outside she finds her cousin and aunt. Aemma and Gael must have been waiting for her and Daera wants to throw herself into their arms and cry her eyes out. They get her, they listen to her. Aemma immediately takes note of her cousin’s mood and tear-stained cheeks and dress and her expression falls. She herself is still grappling with the revelation of her own future. 

Just like Jaehaerys has decided that Hedaera is to wed Viserys, he has decided that Aemma will wed Daemon. She knows that her grandfather’s decision has raised some eyebrows as it left his own daughter still unwed but Gael doesn’t seem to mind and Daera is happy for her; and a bit jealous.

“What did they say?” Aemma asks nervously, hoping that maybe, hopefully she has read Daera wrong.

“They don’t care what I want”, she replies bitterly.

“I’m sorry, Daera.” Her cousin tries to give a smile. “It’s going to be alright though. We will still have each other.” It is as much reassurance for herself as it is for Hedaera. Daera knows she is nervous about her match to Daemon. Truth be told, if they had given her the choice between her brothers, Daera would have picked Daemon over Viserys. At least Daemon is fun; very annoying but fun. 

She stops thinking about it before the ugly thing inside her makes her lash out at her cousin.

Instead, she goes looking for Viserys. If they won’t listen to her, they will surely listen to him. Her brother is five and ten, almost a grown man, and with their father now Prince of Dragonstone, he is his heir, the future King. They will have to listen to him. The thought leaves a bitter taste in her mouth. It should be Rhaenys. She should be Princess of Dragonstone. She is uncle Aemon’s only child; it is her right.

She finds her brother, of course, with his new miniature. The model is still small but quickly growing, and will probably be taking up more and more of the room in the coming months as Viserys adds painstakingly recreated building after building. Daera would have been more interested if she hadn’t been bored half to death several dozens of times by him talking about it before.

He barely notices her as she enters, as absorbed in his work as he is and Daera wants to scream at him. Their lives are being decided for them and he just sits here with his stupid, tiny city. Only when she steps in front of the window, blocking out the light he needs to work, does he finally look up with a frown. His mouth opens, undoubtedly to complain but Daera beats him to it.

“Tell him to find you someone else”, she tells him shakily. “Tell them you don’t want to marry me! Grandfather will listen to you.” But Viserys only sighs the way he always does. Hedaera hates it.

“It won’t change anything, Daera”, he says, as he picks up the small sculpture again.

“You don’t know that”, she accuses angrily. “You haven’t even tried!” You never do. You never do anything at all.

“This is not about what I want. Grandfather has made his decision and there is nothing to be done about it.” There is no regret in his voice, no sign that he is unhappy with this; because he isn’t, Hedaera realizes with a sinking feeling.

It’s not defeat that keeps her brother from doing anything about this, it’s complacency. He doesn’t mind that they are going to be married and he doesn’t care that she doesn’t want to. He thinks they are going to be their parents some day just like Grandmother and Father told her; that she is going to be his Alyssa: spirited and stubborn but happy - no, eager - to do her duty and ‘give him a thousand sons’.

“It will be alright. You’ll see”, Viserys tells her and Hedaera wants to smash his stupid model to pieces.

a/n: cannot believe I am actually posting this. the only other thing I ever wrote and also published was the first four(?) parts of my Daensa Skyrim!AU.

[nnobodoodles]

I'm focused on exams lately but I've been relaxing with Jeeves novels on the side, so I took a break to figure out how I wanna draw these two 🥃 (I'm getting there? Notes under the cut)

So these aren't the Fry and Laurie versions, but they got features I fully associate with the characters, like Bertie's high cheekbones and his fluffy curls in season 1.

I love the interpretations where he has blonde-ish/golden brown hair, and in general, I went with colors and shapes that contrast Jeeves' dark and slick ones.

I am physically incapable of making designs and not giving one character freckles. Only adds to Bertie's youthful look I think.

He's tall and lanky but Jeeves is still taller, ofc.

Not a design thing, but the voice I imagine when I read his lines is the L.A. Theater Works "Code of the Woosters" version.

I wanna give him all the funky colorful clothes (but also please excuse my lack of historical fashion knowledge)

Jeeves was more difficult for me to draw and I'm probs still not fully set on him. I'm more used to Bertie's triangular shapes, and Jeeves is more square (like with shape language, he's the stable, reliable, and traditional one), with broad shoulders, a strong chin, etc.

I still want him to look a bit more soft/pudgy (?) than outright muscular/stocky (that's more Harold Pinker's thing).

Anyway, big fun of the hooked/crooked/prominent noses for him (again, in contrast to Bertie who has a pointy one).

And I similarly like thin eyebrows and lips for him, allowing for these slight expressions of his.

Not too evident here, but I went with dark blue eyes for him here. Are his eyes ever described in the books as blue like Bertie's? Because I am tempted to go for greyish ones instead, rare and with a certain wisdom to them.

[indiaalphawhiskey]

Hi India. I feel really bad for asking this but I wondered if there is an explanation. I always see Larries say 'anyone but Louis' because if Harry is being romantically linked to men then Louis is always excluded when it's very obvious that something went on between Harry and Louis during 1D. Whether it's Harries or the odd time the media they never bring up Louis. So I always see this 'anyone but Louis'. But I noticed that Larries won't accept Harry with any man but Louis. They would prefer him to be straight than with a man who isn't Louis. Isn't this a similar thing? Anyone but Louis vs no one but Louis. Or am I missing a point? Thanks!

Um, it’s very late where I am, so I’m gonna try and be as coherent as possible.

Personally, I believe Harry and Louis are together, and have been for the last 13 years, and the reason I believe Harry has been with “no one but Louis” as you put it, is absolutely not because I would “rather Harry be straight than be with someone else”. It’s literally because I’ve never seen Harry (or Louis) look at anyone else the way they look at each other.

I say this, time and again: to me Larry isn’t a ship. Larry is not me playing with two dolls and making them kiss each other. Neither part of the couple is “swappable” with any other “character” no matter whether man or woman, no matter what level of attractiveness or wealth or fame, no matter how many pap pics are taken of them walking side by side shirtless and in silence or fake kissing next to a car or dancing on a yacht, because none of those things equate to being in love.

What convinced me of Larry isn’t the amount of time they spent together, or how handsome they both are, or what a cute couple they make (even though they are hella cute). It’s literally everything else. It’s their body language around each other, it’s Harry’s stupid little nose scrunch and how it’s disappeared now that they’re never seen together, it’s the way they always seem to reference the same documentaries and albums, is how they dance their little pointy-pointy victory dance that I’ve never seen anyone else do, its how they speak of England as home and LA as work, its the fact that their deep-seated values are so aligned, it’s the entire discography of songs that tell two perspectives of the same love story, it’s the way they describe success with insanely similar verbiage that you can imagine them discussing it laying next to each other in bed…

For me, it’s Harry for Louis and Louis for Harry not because I won’t accept anything else. It’s because I’ve never seen anyone else even come close to being on the receiving end of the way they look at each other. If I see either of them acting that way towards someone else, I’ll consider changing my mind.

I think what people don’t get is that this isn’t really a point of pride for me. I don’t ‘get anything’ by believing in Larry (in fact, there are many times I wish I could spare myself the heartbreak of knowing so much about celeb closeting and just forget about it) or by convincing other people to believe in them. I literally just believe it. And maybe one day there will be enough evidence to change my mind, and then I won’t believe it. It’s just… today’s not that day. 🤷🏻‍♀️

[shinestarhwaa]

ASKED FOR IT (PT2) || CHOI SAN

Read part 1 here: Asked For It

Genre: Smut

Pairing: Boyfriend!San x Fem reader

Word Count: 1.6K

Warnings/tags: Idol!San, Established relationship, rough unprotected sex, light bondage (with his belt), oral sex, facefucking, pussyeating, dirty talk/foul language, degrading, namecalling (slut/whore), doggy style, hairpulling

@anyamaris @a-soft-hornytiny @whatudowhennooneseesyou @star1117-archives @wooyoungmybelovedhusband @pyeonghongrie-main @woosanbby @thatonenoona

Tell me if u wanna be added to my taglist!❣️

ENJOY!

When you entered the dorm and went into San's room he was already waiting for you. He sat on his bed, wearing a white button up shirt with dark grey slacks, shiny and pointy shoes covering his feet. His shirt was slightly open, revealing his toned and pumped chest. His hair was styled backwards and in his hands he held his belt.

Exactly way you liked it.

''Wow, what a treat,'' you said, smirking as you dropped your bag and walked over to him. ''Mhm, thought I'd get on the whole sexy CEO look thing for you, since you're gonna have a long night, dear,'' San said. His smirk was dark, nearly evil and you knew he was going to absolutely ruin you tonight, punishing you for not making him cum.

''How thoughtful of you,'' you grinned as you stood in front of him. San got up, his big form towering over you. He grabbed your chin roughly with his hand, kissing you with so much passion and power you nearly fell to your knees. San had you pressed against the door, smacking it closed with a loud bang.

You felt his tongue on your lips, making you gasp and granting him access. San's hands explored your body as his tongue explored your mouth. You melt into his embrace as your lips mold together. There was no other explanation to the mess you were making in your panties than Choi San's tongue. It worked miracles on you everytime, no matter where he put it.

San broke off the kiss and took off your shirt and lacy bralette, licking your nipples and making you gasp as he ties your wrists together behind your back. ''S-San,'' you tried but he shook his head. ''You know better than to tease me and leave me hanging, princess, so now you're just going to take whatever I give to you, am I understood?''

''Yes, San, I understand,'' you nodded as San guided you to your knees. He unzipped his pants and dropped them, revealing his red, angry cock. ''You're gonna take, whatever I fucking give to you.''

He took a handfull of your hair, yanking on it, making you whine out. San saw this as a good chance to force his cock into your mouth. You felt it hit the back of your throat as he slid it in and out repeatedly. You tried so hard not to gag on his cock as he picked up the pace. He held your head in his hands as he fucked your mouth.

San's heavy balls slapped against your chin, making you yearn to have them in your mouth. You whined around San's cock, tapping on his thigh and making him pull out.

''Yes, angel?'' he asked with a softer voice, looking down on you to see if you were okay. ''I know, I will take whatever you give to me but maybe you wanna switch between your big delicious cock and your balls? I fucking love having both in my mouth, please,'' you begged.

San laughed at you and shook his head mockingly. ''Such a little cockslut, aren't you?''

Before you could answer he had already stuffed his balls in your mouth. You licked and sucked on them as much as you could, earning some low groans from your boyfriend.

''Such a good little slut, taking my balls like that, you like that huh? You fucking like that?''

You moaned around his length, clenching your thighs together. You nodded eagerly as San slapped his member on your cheek, before entering your mouth again, balls going back to slapping against your face.

Tears flowed down your cheeks as you kept on taking his cock. You were nearly full-on sobbing on his dick, clenching around nothing. San was grunting and groaning like an animal, having no mercy. ''Such a good little cockwhore, you like it huh? Well then fucking take it, take it baby, fucking take it, take my load, take my load baby, fuck. Take. It. Take. It, TAKE IT!''

San groaned loudly as he came in your mouth. There was no way you could have swallowed it all. San always cums with a generous amount, leaving you breathless. He pulls his member from your mouth, a thin string of saliva and cum still connected to your plump lips. The cum runs down your chin, dripping on your chest, making you hiss.

He helps you with getting up and taking you to the bed. San sits you down and slides down your skirt and panties. Immediately, you spread your legs instinctively, revealing your achingly wet core. San strips himself from his sexy CEO clothes too, sitting before you on his knees.

''Let me get a taste of that sweet little pussy, angel,'' San smirks as he dives down between your legs. You want to run your hands through his hair, want to pull it, but you are restrained by San's belt around your wrists.

You whined at the feeling of San's strong tongue deep inside your cunt. ''God, San, Yes,'' you moaned out. San was so eager to fuck you with his tongue, despite what you had done earlier. He was so good, never disappointing, and you could never get enough of him.

San was always like this. No matter what you did or how much you teased him, he wanted to have you writhing because of his touch. And you were, grinding your pussy on his face as you felt yourself come closer to climaxing. Before San could stop to tease you back, you came with a loud moan, spilling your juices on the idol's lips.

''Oh my God,'' you moaned out as San licked a stripe from the bottom to the top of your cunt. ''You're such a little whore... Cumming on my face after only a few minutes of my tongue?''

You whined as he moved you further on the bed, turning you over, nearly pushing your face in the matrass. San held onto your tied wrists with one of his hands as he guided his cock into your tight wet cunt with his other.

''O-Oh, San,'' you moaned out, feeling a burning sensation from the delicious stretch of his delicious cock. ''Be a good girl, okay? You are going to take my fucking dick as long as I want? Okay?''

You moaned as San pushed his cock as deep as he could, pistoning it in and out of your hole. You could not even form words so all you let out were murmured sounds, making him smirk at you. He had you at his mercy, completely. Always.

''You're fucking mine, you whore, you're mine, you're my body to fuck, my pussy to own, do you fucking understand?'' San grunted. All you let out were loud moans, muffled by the sheets half in your mouth, catching your drool.

''You are not in charge of me. You don't get to leave me hanging. You only get to get fucked and take my cum and I don't care if you can't take it, I don't care if it is too much, I don't fucking care because you are made to take my cock!''

''Y-Yes! Yes I am yours, I am yours, I am so fucking yours, fuck my pussy, please!''

San pulled your hair roughly, making you whine and cry out of pleasure. The stretch and the pulling were painful, but it was worth it. He was worth it. Everything he gave you was worth it. The cum that San was spilling inside of your cunt was so worth it.

He stayed hard and kept fucking you, making you think he had turned into some sort of sex God, completely ruining your pussy. But he filled you up so perfectly. The squelching of your wetness and his cum made you come undone on his cock.

You screamed out his name as your body shook roughly. San smirked and pounded you even harder, if that was even possible.

''Yes, yes, YES! Fuck me like you fucking mean it,'' you challenged him. You knew he loved it when you challenged and teased him with your words. Both of you knew what was gonna happen if you did, both of you wanted it to happen so you never cared.

''Yes baby, take my fucking dick, I fucking love fucking your cunt, I love your cunt baby, Take it!''

The tip of his member hit all your favourite spots. It didn't take long before San was moaning just as loud as you were, spilling his seeds inside your wet cunt once again.

You felt his chest and shoulders on your back, pressing you deeper into the matrass. You felt like you were gonna suffocate, but San was slowing down, clearly out of breath and stamina. He pulled out of you and took his belt off your wrists, breathing heavily.

You laid down with him, in his arms. The two of you smiled and just laid with each other in silence. You didn't need to speak, you didn't need to say a word. Your eyes told more than words ever could. Even with the roughest sex in the world, San still loved you. He always loves you. Always. Even when you asked for it with your teasing.

-

''ARE YOU GUYS FUCKING DONE YET? WERE YOU KILLING HER IN THERE?'' Seonghwa yelled, smacking the door with his hand, making the two of you laugh.

''TAKE IT. TAKE IT. YEAHHHH, BABY TAKE IT!'' Mingi imitated San with a rough voice. You laughed for a long time, cuddling with San.

''I'll kill them, for real, they've asked for it.''

[yanderehsr]

Hii! How r u? How was ur dai? About the oc thing...Could I prety please with cherry on top get a platonic platonic Furina, Ei, Nahidaand Venti with a reader that is like a elf? Idk, how to explain it, so I am gonna add a picture to how I wiev it:

Her name is Eclipsa and has white hair and pointy ears(ofc since she is an elf). And I dont mean like Santa's elfs, I mean the ones from greek and romanian mytology.

About the bakstory: Lets just say that she is the daughter of The Heavenly Principels(lets just call her THP bc I am lazy) (ik it sounds cringe but hear me out😭) and since THP was not all the lovey dovey tipe and probably VERY bad with children (maybe even hate them idk, I really cant see her motherly) she just decided to throe her to Tyvat into the care of the archons untill she was old enough (16 years old) to come to Celestia (bacically be mature since she doesnt want a cryng baby around). Eclipsa is growing, just like Klee slower (there is a theorh that says that Klee is 80 but is also 8 bc she is growing 10 times slower than normal) and everu 100 it adds 1 year rlto her age. Now, lets say that when she was 10(1000) she overheared somebody say that the archons dont actually like her (like parental figures ofc) and that they probably just cang get rid of her. She actually belivd them like a dumb child that she is and ran away (opened a portal to another world and dissapeared without anybody's knoladge). Now, lets just say for the sake of this au to make it more interesting (maybe more cringe but I am having fun ok?😭) that the disaster from Khaenri'ah happened bc the person occ heared it was a khaenriah'n and THP since finding this out was like "OH HELL NAHH" and this iz the reason they destroyd Khaenria'h. THP gave the archons untill Eclipsa was to turn 16 to find her. Well, now, at 15, she randomply (and awkwardly) came back. (Maybe she finally got into her head the ideea of checking Irmansole to see if the archons truly hated her and surprise surprise, ints not true). Now, imagine the characters meeting Occ in their nation. For Venti- at windrise, for Ei in the city (near the statue), for Nahida just at the spirit tree (maybe one of her little friends passed that message for her) and for Furina(back when she was still an archon) she was told from Neuvillette that he sensed Occ's presence(lets just say that higher ups are aware of Eclipsa's existance, including Furina. Perhaps she has read about Oc in one of the books she read to find a solution to Fontaine's profecy).

Also, I imagine ooc to look like this when she was little(I just love this fanart sm😭):

(One thing to note is that none of theres fanarts are mine, and idk who they are from to credit them. Also te line I made was bc there was some writting on that picture and I didnt want it to be out of the context:>)

About personalit I see her as somebody who is quite the drama queen and loves attention 24/7. She loves pulling pranks all the time and also like annoyng people, but in a joking way. Hoever I see her as somebody who has her moments of understanding and is quite the menance to societity(pretty mhch like how Klee is). About her powers, she is developing since young THP's powers but since she is not even 18, its definetly not as affective.

Anyways, I know it might be a weird request or cringe, and maybe I wrote too much, or gave too little information. Also, I am VERY sorry if you cant undrtstand this request, english is not my first language and I pretty much have dyslexia(not bad one tough, I am still working on correcting mynself :D) and I tried to make sure I made as little mistakes as posible but its hard to spot them when its a big paragraphe, uk? therfor you are always free to ignore thiz request, hopw you have a nice day and good luck writting so many requests. Also, congrats on 1k followrs!! :D

...Did I just read an entire fanfiction XD, I will gladly write this, and thanks for the congrats😆

Hope you'll enjoy😄

Trigger Warning: Yandere, Obsessive behaviour, Possessive behaviour, Kidnapping

Furina: She knows almost nothing about her, Neuvillette doesn't seem to remember anything about her and there are no books about it, hell the only reason she knows about Eclipsa is because Focalors thought of it as important that she knew about The Heavenly Principles daughter if she was going to act as an archon.

Furina's first meeting with Eclipsa is when Neuvillette is showing her around, it was instant love... not the romantic kind, the platonic kind, Eclipsa looked like a doll, so perfect to dress up, so perfect to have around, Furina feels lonely and Eclipsa makes her feel whole again, so she takes what she wants.

Furina dislikes The Heavenly Principles, she would be happy if she was hated by them, her performance is over either way, the profecy is fullfilled, is it really so wrong of her to be selfish... you will see Furina run around Fontaine with Eclipse causing havoc, as long as she is with her she doesn't feel lonely, and now she never will

"Y-you aren't leaving me right, right... ANSWER ME PLEASE... I'm sorry for yelling, I just don't wanna lose a friend so dear, you can understand, right?"

Raiden Ei: The day Eclipsa dissapeared was the day her sister died... not only did she lose her very own sister, she also lost someone she practically viewed as a daughter, she had never felt such horrible pain before, so she shut herself away as to not feel it again.

So many years spent in isolation, all Ei could think about was her sister and Eclipsa, she swore if she could just get them back, she would protect them both with her life, she just wants things to go back to normal, like it used to be.

So many years had passed that Ei nearly didn't recognize Eclipsa, she had so many questions for her, but she didn't say a single one... screw The heavenly Principles, she was going to protect her as best she could, Eclipsa don't even get a chance to talk before she was shut inside the plane of Euthymia.

"So long, you have been away for 500 long years... but that's okay, you're here now, I'll make sure you not come to harm like what happened to Makoto"

Nahida: She doesn't have much knowledge of Eclipsa, she isn't recorded in the Irminsul, all the knowledge Nahida has of her is what her predecessor left for her she didn't forget, she is confused why Eclipsa isn't around... did she dissapear or worse, did she die?

Nahida is confussed when she feels Eclipsa's precence by the Irminsul, it feels familiar but she can't figure out why, of course like the curious 500 year old child she is, she went to figure out what caused such familiarity... Nahida knew who it was the second she laid eyes on her, this is who she is supposed to protect like the Greater Lord she once did.

Nahida asks a lot of questions, why is she here? Why was she gone? Eclipsa is now her favorite subject to learn about, Nahida takes up some kind of little sister role to stay close with her, she needs to know everything, feed her ever-growing curiosity, maybe one day she will introduce Eclipsa to the Wanderer... but that can be later, Nahida wants to be selfish for a bit longer.

"Curious, you being here fills me with a feeling like... like a hole, you fall down it everyday and it just feels so annoying, then suddenly someone has covered it up and I don't feel annoyance anymore... You need to stay with me for a bit longer, I need to figure out why"

Venti: He isn't all that interested in following The Heavenly Principles orders, but he still did as to not occur her wrath... he did not expect to take care of a child, he wasn't the best, he got constantly drunk, never took anything serious, except for protecting Eclipsa from any danger.

It was no surprise that Venti felt such fear and despair when Eclipsa dissapeared, he had lost yet another loved one... why does he still care, it always happens anyways, no relation lasts forever, no matter how much he tries to drown the memory of her in even more alcohol, it doesn't work

That's when Venti notices her precence, after 500 long painful years, is she finally back? Is this his second chance. He meets Eclipsa at windrise, she look just as well as when she dissapeared... He doesn't care what The Heavenly Principles thinks or wants, he will keep Ecilpsa safe and away from her, He will keep that smile on her no matter what.

"It sure has been a while hasn't it, soooo how have you been, hope you missed me for I have missed you"

[zimthandmade]

Hello,

I am an art student (art on instagram link in my account, I am too lazy to post on two different platforms), and I love your art style and creativity, you are incredible ✨

I am at that point in my studies where I am getting decent at at least some of the techniques, but struggle using them to give life to my own ideas.

Do you have any advice on character design and environment study? I admire how you manage to give so much personality to your characters just with body language, it’s amazing, I have lots of trouble just managing to make mine look like themselves in two different sketches. Every time I feel like I got it right I lose it the moment after :(.

Where do I start when I want to study for a project, and how do you organise your work?

Thank you for reading, I hope this ask finds you well ❤️

Hi there!! Thanks for reaching out!! <3

Yeah character consistency can be tricky! My go-to strategy for character design is to break them down into their most basic idea. Can be a colour, a shape, a line. Look at this concept art from Inside Out:

The more complex you go, the more tricky, complicated and hard to get right in different drawings will be. That's not a bad thing but you should always keep the very core idea of a character in mind when designing and drawing. If I may add some of my own things in here:

I settled for a very angular Mello and in contrast a rather round Matt. In canon, they're both pretty round, so I thought I'd break that up for a more interesting duo dynamic. For me it's also helpful to think of your character as a map with set distances and points of interest. Take Mellos focal points like the beak-y pointy nose and his blocky hair and the rest doesn't matter that much anymore if you only get those features right. I don't know, I'm super bad at explaining, there's a reason why I'm not a teacher :'D

Maybe you could try to draw your character as tiny or as quickly as you can, that also works well for me. Because you absolutely can't get lost in details and have to break them down to what really matters.

When I see complex characters with tons of tattoos and complex scars or wild hairstyles and details that just absolutely don't matter to the overall design, I always think of the poor poor animators that would have to animate that character if they were part of a TV show haha

As for environment study?? Bruh, I'm as lost as you.

Where to start on a project? Anywhere, as long as you start. Sitting in front of a blank paper is the worst thing. Drawing bad is better than not drawing at all. Look at other art, maybe even copy some, trace some, anything that helps you get into the flow.

Organising things is a supreme dicipline. I would say I give my best to stay organised but fail miserably. But I had people tell me I'm insanely organised, so... No idea. Taking the whole Death Note AU thing as one big project, I try to keep things seperated by characters, eras, themes or places, depending on what makes sense and throw all the files in the respective folders but it's getting more cluttered by the minute... What helps me if making overviews, like lineups of characters or something like this:

Colour chart where I can just pick the colours and not rummage through my files to find a fitting reference for different characters.

Oof that turned longer than I wanted, I hope you can at least find some helpful information out of my rambling :'D

[sheeparuu]

I’ll call it Severed link au for now.

So I was always a sucker for a bad ending and I wanted to put out a few ideas cuz I thought it would be fun. Yes it started from Linked Universe since I’ve seen people make their own versions and I thought it would be cool to do it too. Also, English is not my first language.

Games I’ve finished:

1.  Sky: Inheriting a god’s power after defeating them is not something Link would have expected to happen after stopping Demise. Still, if the corruption of his mind and body is not enough proof of that, his old home falling out of the sky might be.

2. Twilight: Having a pointy chunk forcefully jammed in one’s brain is bad, using it to keep switching between hylian and beast form is worse, loosing their mind the more they shift is the worst. At least he might be able to get a position as Ganon’s lap dog.

3. Wind: One would be surprised how hard it is to kill a parasitic entity, especially when it takes over your body as a host. Still, after such a gruelling fight, it might remain inactive for a long time, licking its wounds at the bottom of the sea.

4. Spirit: When the hero fails saving his best friend and end up having to swear allegiance to the demon lord inhabiting her body, everything seems to be going to hell. But having that fight with the said demon awaken something from the sea might be just as bad.

5.Wild: Sometime even if a friendly goat amputates your arm, it might not completely remove the malice from your blood stream, or stop it going to your brain. It might just slow it down enough for you to realize that something is taking over you from inside out.

Games I haven’t played/ finished but I tried to research:

6. Losing your uncle, the girl of your dream and having the path to Lorule closed might give someone things to grieve about. Hoarding magical items and knowledge for the purpose of “keeping the people you love safe” is also bad. Being swayed by the dark magic to the point where turning people into stone to “protect them” is, you guessed it, bad.

7. Time: Once a certain evil entity realizes that the kid carrying godness power is a better target than a mere Skullkid it might just have to switch hosts. Maybe if the other masks the “hero” carried weren’t splitting his mind like hair ends he could have stood a chance.

8. Four: Sometime allaying with the wrong side, even if you plan to change sides once you get the upper hand, might lead to actions that you can never forgive yourself for. And sometimes the shame grows to the point you can’t even face the three other versions of yourself, even when they are fighting the big bad of your world. And sometimes when they lose, you might feel the most vulnerable you’ve ever been.

9.Warriors: Maybe if the portals Cia chose to open lead to worlds were the heroes won their adventures, the story would have been different. Maybe if she never realized that Link wouldn’t be hers, even by force, she wouldn’t have turned him into a puppet king. Maybe if his mind wasn’t completely aware of everything around him, while being completely disconnected from his body he wouldn’t have had to agonize like this.

10. Hyrule: Sometimes when a the kindness and heroism of a child is rejected by the entire world and the cult that’s following him takes a much more manipulative approach instead of trying to kill him, it might just end much worse for the common man.

Notes: I always liked the idea that heroes are not purely good and always getting the good ending, and that if their life had just enough differences they would have failed/turned to the dark side. I mostly thought it would be cool for the characters to have a “failed” version and in my head they could serve as a “self discovery journey” for the og heroes. Like having to compare yourself with your worst version would cause some major introspection.

P.S: Yes I added Spirit since I think he and Wind could have some really cool dynamics. Also if someone already did the idea before me I'd like to know.

[apricoctopus]

Daily Dose Of Terrible Men

There are two things I miss in Act 2:

Being able to tell Astarion that "I used you, but then I kinda liked you" is a messed up thing to say and a heartbreaking thing to hear, even from a situationship.

Explanation why does Yurgir standing like 20 feet away can smell Raphael's perfume on Tav?

So I fixed it.

Raphael/fem!Tav (with a different name) + we have a guest appearance from another terrible man in the end. 1718 words and it's like PG-13 for a couple of bad words.

English is not first language but I don't let it stop me.

They set up camp on a small hill where darkness wasn’t so dense. During the day one could even see the sun here and at night pale stars glimpsed through the shroud of Shar’s curse.

Agartha sat on a root of some giant, long dead tree at the edge of the camp. The valley bellow of her drowned in darkness, seeping up into the air through bottomless chasms, dead and full of motion at the same time. Full of shadows, shifting, crawling, simmering like water on a stove, whispering.

From the shadows Agartha heard voices of her parents who called her a disgrace and a curse — as if it was her fault someone of her grannies or grandaddies had a fling with a fiend, tainting their children’s blood with corruption, that manifested generations later. She heard voices of every tavern keeper who claimed their establishment was too respectable to let a tiefling singer perform there, of people who called her a foulblood and a goat-face and said she would be almost pretty if she sawed her horns off.

And now Astarion’s voice would join the chorus saying he only needed her for “protection”.

Agartha sniffled, tears rolling down her face. Astarion tried to follow her there but she suggested he started looking for a new patron instead, because she was not going to put up with his nonsense anymore.

Of course, it was never about love with them, but she thought they at least liked each other?

She sniffled again so loudly she almost missed the sound she had grown so accustomed to in the last months. A whoosh of flame and magical energy accompanied by gust of hot air carrying sparkles and smell of cherries.

Oh, for fuck’s sake.

Once one of those sparkles burned a hole in Agartha’s cape and Raphael brought her a new one, made of heavy red velvet and adorned with embroidery — two golden dragons with coiled tails and spread out wings mirroring each other. She told everyone she found it in the goblin camp. No one believed her, of course, but what could they do about it?

Another time Raphael gave her a map with Last Light Inn marked on it. He was especially grumpy that day and wouldn’t stop mumbling that getting lost in such a small valley that literally had only two roads was almost impressive. The way the location was circled several times with bright red ink and had an arrow pointing at it felt a little bit passive aggressive, but it was helpful nonetheless.

He usually visited when she was alone and away from the others. Sometimes he would offer help like that time with the map and sometimes, in his own words, was simply checking on his favorite client. Sure, his warlock still kept an eye on their party, but after The Goblin Priestess Incident he had to personally make sure his Little Mouse wasn’t trying to wander into another trap.

Usually Agartha enjoyed these visits, but this time she was absolutely not ready to deal with Raphael. She had her daily dose of terrible men today. She tried to sneakily wipe off tears before Raphael noticed, but of course failed.

Raphael sat by her side and looked with expression she would call sympathetic if she didn’t know him better.

“Oh no, my dear, what happened? Who hurt my precious Little Mouse?”

“No one, Raphael. And don’t call me that. Could you leave me alone, please?”

She knew it was not going to work. He smiled at her softly, and that smile meant they both understood how futile her resistance was.

“Was it your pointy-eared friend? Tsk-tsk-tsk, I warned you he was trouble.”

As angry and sad as Agartha was, she snorted at the thought that even a literal devil didn’t approve her relationship with Astarion. Of course, in truth Raphael couldn’t care less about her unfortunate sex life, but it was funny anyway.

Raphael snapped fingers — Does he really have to show off like this all the time? — and a handkerchief appeared in his hand, pristine white satin with intricate lace and big “R” in the corner. For a moment Agartha was terrified he would try to wipe off her tears, but he simply handed it to her. The handkerchief smelled faintly of cherries.

“Thank you.”

“You are very welcome. You can trust me, you know that.”

“Are you serious?”

Raphael pretended to be appalled, eyes wide, hand dramatically pressed against his chest.

“Why not? Have I not earned your trust? All this time I have been nothing but helpful to ensure you safely reach the end of your perilous journey! And this is how you repay me, with this blatant distrust? You mortals are so ungrateful. It hurts every time.”

It was stupid, but Agartha snorted with laughter again. There would be no crying and self-pitying until Raphael was done with pestering her.

“That’s better.” He wrapped his hand around her and gently pressed on her shoulder forcing to lean on him.

That was new.

Agartha put her head on Raphael’s shoulder, feeling soft fine leather of his doublet under her cheek. Even through all the layers of clothing between them she felt unnatural heat of his body. Under smell of perfume she felt a touch of sulfur and something light and fresh — soap? Aftershave? Raphael bent his neck slightly, putting his chin on Agartha’s head. She could only hope he wouldn’t poke his own eye out with her horns.

“Now you can tell me what happened. I can’t let my favorite client sit all alone crying in the dark. What if your comrades see their fearless leader like that? It will be awful for the morale.”

“I’m not their leader.”

“Oh, who is, then?”

She pondered at the question.

“Wyll, I guess?”

“Be serious, my dear. He is terrified of having to be responsible for himself, let alone a whole group of people.”

Agartha shifted uncomfortably. Right now Raphael could say whatever he wanted about Astarion, but she didn’t like him making fun of Wyll.

“You only say that because he already has his devil and won’t listen to another one.”

“Has his devil?” Raphael sounded amused. “Well, his loss, isn’t it? I am a way better patron than Mizora. What good has she ever done for the poor boy? And I can do so much for you. Show me who upset you and I will turn this villain into a… hm, how about a frog. Would you like that?”

“A frog? Are you secretly a hag?”

Raphael chuckled, while his had slipped down her shoulder, glided on rough linen of her shirt and finally rested comfortably on the waist. He pressed more firmly this time, forcing Agartha to move even closer.

“Tell me then, my Little Mouse, what else could I do to cheer you up?”

Agartha put her hand on his chest, and looked up to his face. Raphael observed her curiously, not letting go, waiting for what she would do next.

Her head felt completely empty and at the same time she was aware of every little thing around her. Cold damp air of the cursed land and infernal heat radiated by Raphael, last tears still burning in her eyes and his thumb caressing her skin, his chest moving calmly up and down under her hand and the soft fabric of the handkerchief she was still holding. She thought it was a bad idea, and a shitty move from him, doing all this while she was so upset, and that she would probably be angry at him later.

They sat close to the torches the party had put up around the camp to keep the shadows away. Their light was weak, dimmed by Shar’s curse, but enough to outline his face, eyelashes she secretly envied — Why would a man need such nice eyelashes?.. — and a net of crow’s feet around his eyes. Agartha briefly wondered if he added them to his human disguise on purpose, to make his gaze seem softer and kinder.

She leaned for a kiss.

WHAT ARE YOU DOING, YOU STUPID WOMAN?

Guardian’s voice boomed in her head like a giant bell. Agartha yelped, grabbing her spinning, aching head and burying it in her knees. Doing that she slammed into Raphael’s cheekbone with her horn making him swear in Infernal. She barely heard it with Guardian yelling at her from inside her head.

AFTER ONE TERRIBLE MAN YOU RUSH INTO PANTS OF ANOTHER! AND A DEVIL AT THAT! HAS THE TADPOLE EATEN YOUR BRAIN OR HAVE YOU NEVER HAD ONE?

 Agartha groaned.

“I didn’t rush into anyone’s pants, shut up, shut up, shutupshutup!”

“I have completely forgotten we are not alone. Little voice in your head does not approve, I suppose?”

Agartha looked at Raphael thought her fingers. His right cheek was red and marked with a long scratch that was already healing.

“Sorry about that,” she said weakly.

BE SORRY ABOUT YOUR POOR DECISIONS, YOU…

“Ah, please don’t worry. It is not your fault. And if your friends have heard anything, you can tell them you fought off a monster with your horns.” Raphael put a hand on her back, and Guardian’s voice suddenly faded. She could still hear it as if from far away, separated from her by thick glass. “This is unfortunate, of course, but I assure you, soon you will be free from your stowaway and that… creature whispering into your ear. Or, judging by your reaction, it’s more like screaming.”

Raphael patted her back. After that intense moment they just shared the gesture felt awkward but somehow genuine.

“Can’t you take it out now?”

“I can, but I won’t.”

Agartha straitened and looked him right in the face.

“Go to Hell, Raphael.”

“I guess it is time that I do just that. Don’t be upset, Little Mouse, very soon your ordeal will be over. And then we will continue this conversation.”

With these words he disappeared in a vortex of magical flames before she could say anything.

Agartha sat in the dark, cold and alone, head still spinning.

I AM VERY DISAPPOINTED IN YOU.

“Oh, fuck off.”

[truetogaia]

Hi just wondering if you would be open to writing a headcanon with some of the male avatar characters where their female mate is insecure about her chest?

featuring: Tsu’tey, Jake, Quaritch, Tonowari.

genre: headcanons

warnings: mentions of body dysmorphia, insecurities, like strong language??, quaritch is a dick because he doesn't understand but he eventually realizes!!

notes: HI OF COURSE I WILL!!! Also, If this is a request based on you, I'm so sorry you have to feel that way. You are a creation of earth herself, one of many beautiful beings wandering this planet of life. I know it might not be of much help, but you are quite literally stardust, created in a supernova explosion billions of years ago. Your skin was formed out of the cosmos, your soul is a domain of the universe and your body is the divine fortress of the galaxies and the heavenly bodies littering the sky, molded specifically for your spirit. Humanity has completely turned away from their mother and have created the concept of unbelievable beauty standards, which, by the way, do not even align with the laws of nature?? Don’t listen to social media. Think of yourself as a star, a celestial being, because that's what we all are, that is what you are. 

okay, now for the actual request!! SORRY

JAKE

Jake is absolutely obsessed with every single part of you. And sure, he is a very sexual man, always goofing around intimately, but regarding matters like these, he can be extremely serious. He loves every inch of blue skin covering your body, and adores every curve that gives shape to it. There is not one thing that he would change about you, he wouldn't dream to design you any differently if he got the chance to. So when you finally opened up about your insecurities regarding your chest, he was baffled. Never in a million years did he think you could carry these insecurities about something so indescribably perfect. 

He spent every following day trying his utmost best to make you forget those absurdities, drowning you in reassuring and loving words, making sure you knew exactly how jaw dropping you truly are. 

“y/n, listen to me.” Your gaze shifted uncomfortably around the room, not daring to meet your mates eyes. “Hey,” he gently grabbed your hands, placing them against his chest, “this heart,” you felt it thump wildly beneath your palms, “its purpose is to love you, and It serves its purpose every day, without fail. You are undoubtedly the most beautiful being this world has created, there is not a single error on your beautiful body.” 

You had him wrapped around your finger, he would do whatever was needed for you to feel as loved and beautiful as you are, and he was gonna make damn sure you knew of it.

TONOWARI

Wari could not believe his pointy ears. His main priority had always been to make sure you were completely aware of the immense love he held for you in his heart. The words that left your mouth were nonsense, and his brain was trying to puzzle it together. There was absolutely no reason for such an astonishing, ravaging person as yourself to feel that way. His heart ached as your eyes darted to the floor at his expression. His eyes told of the utter confusion he experienced, and you felt stupid. 

“I’m sorry, I know It’s stupid and all but.. I can’t help but feel this way sometimes.” You finally managed to meet his gaze, and when you locked eyes, his features immediately softened. 

“My beautiful girl, you are as ravaging as the ocean, and as heavenly as the cosmos. Your mere presence is enough to send a million men to their knees, enough to make me never want to forget a single thing regarding you. Even after death, I want every trivial, petty detail to stay with me until the end of time itself.”

Your smile makes his heart tingle slightly, a warm sensation spreading in your face. He gently cupped your jaw, lifting your face to look up at him. “Oel ngati kameie, y/n.” Your foreheads pressed together as you closed your eyes, reveling in the gentle affirmations before repeating his words back to him.

QUARITCH

Quaritch is a man who doesn’t enjoy being emotional. He isn’t emotionally available at all, physically and mentally recoiling at the mention or thought of being openly affectionate on an emotional level with someone. But when you came into his life, something switched in him. He tried his best to be at least.. somewhat open and supportive. He tries his best, I promise. 

But, when you opened up to him about your insecurities, his brain malfunctioned. He couldn't connect the dots you so desperately gave to him. The two of you were in bed when you told him, your head was propped up on his bicep as he laid on his back. His tail nervously flicked around, he was trying to come up with a solution, like the strategist that he is, but he turned up empty handed.

“Sorry, sweetie, but what the hell are you talking about?” He turned his face to you, eyes slightly narrowed as he tried to make sense of your words. You twisted and squirmed uncomfortably.

“I don’t know.. S’ just that sometimes I feel like.. You know.. It's not as beautiful as you think it is.” He almost laughed at that, snorting as he tried suppressing the itching laughter. When his little fit of chuckles ended, he looked down at you again. You were frowning, lip slightly quivering as your face was turned away. He realized his mistakes, a slight panic settling over him as he shifted his body towards you and softly placed his hand on the side of your face, turning you to him again.

“I’m so sorry, bunny. I didn’t mean to make you upset, you know that.” You looked up at him, sensing a genuine apologetic aura from him. “You’re my finest, most amazing prize, pumpkin. Ain’t nothin’ wrong with you.” A smile spread on your face as your dear mate tried his best to comfort you. You knew he didn’t have a way with words, but him trying meant so much.

TSU’TEY

Tsu’tey is such a sweetheart when it comes to his mate. He showers them in praises and compliments, love and adoration. His heart swells with pride each time the two of you go out, reveling in the jealous looks from the other males. He knew something was off the minute you started doubting yourself. He didn’t even give you a moment to think about it.

“Yawne, is something wrong?” The two of you were sat in your shared home, nuzzled together in front of the head of the fire. You shook your head, locking your gaze on the flames eagerly licking the wood. 

“I know when you're lying.” He was right. He always knew, right from the start. Even before the lies had formed on your tongue. “I’ve noticed the way you look at yourself in your reflection.” Your head shot up at that, turning to him. “Whatever it is, stop. Yawne, you are so mesmerizing, truly. There is no better mate, I mean it.” 

You placed your head on his hard shoulder, sighing while fiddling with your hands. Tsu’tey grabbed them with his unoccupied hand, and brought them to his lap. “Tell me, ma tsawksyul, what is eating you?” 

A tiny tear almost went unnoticed by you, until tsu’tey calmly wiped it away with his thumb. You finally opened up, spilling your heart out to him. His heart twinged with the knowledge that you had felt this way all this time, and he hadn’t known. 

“My sweet girl, you are the omaticaya’s most beautiful woman. I did not mate with you just because of your amazing personality, the clan's most fierce warrior has his standard high, you know.” A giggle left your lips and it soon turned into a fit of laughter. He smiled, heart warming with each wheeze that left your lungs.

[starrysharks]

ive sent like 20 asks to you atp but i really love ur art soooo so so so much like ur like my biggest inspiration fr like seriously i could blab all day abt how much i love your art and your arts almost singlehandedly motivated me to start working on shape language more bc i think thats like the key part of your art (to me at least) and youre like the true embodiment of "same face syndrome fears me" but like fr because all your ocs are so distinct and unique

do you have any tips on creating unique silhouettes / just general character design tips?? also id love to hear abt how your use of shapes and shape language evolved over time if ur fine sharing that!!

ok this is literally the sweetest ask ever like first off thank you so much ;_; i'm glad i was able 2 inspire you!!!

for me if you look at my old art there's little to no focus on shape language cuz i wanted to express a 'pointy' animeish style. examples are from 2020, 2021 respectively

as you can see i did NOT flip my canvas and my art was samey as hell,,, but in 2021 i started going for softer colors and shapes rather than points and spikes and brighter shapes. but, if you were to look through all of my art from either era, you'd see it's identical cuz i didn't care for shape language. this went on for quite a while :,)

then i discovered worlds end club in late 2021 and everything changed !!! i watched playthroughs cuz i didn't have a means to play at the time, and decided on making my artstyle a blend of cartoony and animeish - which ended up in choosing more expensive silhouettes and faces in turn

honestly i'm too tired to actually chronicle my artstyle change so i'll just skip to late 2022 in this timeline, sorry 😭

so by now has my artstyle evolved into aomwthing super cool n expressive ? no actually i think my art got worse in late 2022

as you can see, my colors got super washed out and i didn't really take risks, i guess? but i was finally starting to come into my own in terms of artstyle and was finally acknowledging shape language a little bit.

very early 2023 is the same, so let's skip to the one thing that changed my artstyle - the big 8 lineups

suddenly everybody was like 'wow your shapes are so good!!!' this was because i had tried to challenge myself with character design in these drawings. so i tried to emphasise interesting shapes more - using a technique where i'd just take an interesting shape or line that corresponded with a character's personality and repeating it as much as i could across the design.

like this deep cut art, where i tried to 'dial up'their already exaggerated shapes and design aspects (such as making frye's pants sag more or changing up shiv's hair. big man is perfect and needs no changes)

but this journey is still not over because a few months ago i rewatched all of panty and stocking and watched clone high for the first time, and both of these shows emphasise shapes a LOT in their designs, and i picked those up. here's art from a few months ago - in short, i tried to find the 'focal point' of the design, something that set it apart from other designs with similar body types or clothing, and built around that, if it makes sense? here's some art that i think expresses that well

comparing the new quintet art to the old one, i think you can also see that i started to try and use different body shapes and shapes in general (such as clyde having a more triangular build ig) . and tumblr doesn't let me add more pictures so this is where the overview ends !

my advice is - watch and rewatch anything that might inspire you, because it has the ability to push you in the right direction. for technical tips, id say -

draw different body types and age ranges (often times same face syndrome is born from only drawing the same age range, usually 15-20 for most sufferers)

play around with style - do you want a more western inspired style or something more akin to modern anime ? maybe something entirely different! try drawing in different styles that you like and see which ones stick

research fashion if only a little bit - it can help understand visually pleasing silhouettes (such as the famous big jacket or big pants silhouettes)

speaking of big jacket or big pants, contrast is key !!! top or bottom heavy designs are an easy way to express personality and an expressive silhouette ig

ummm thaz it ithink. once again thank you for your kind words and remember to take advice from multiple artists im just one guy!! i hope anything in here helped or was at least interesting to read

[miraakulous-cloud-district]

No way, am I actually posting a WIP?!

My dears, so much is happening, and as always, when I am entirely too busy for anything, inspiration hits. I still have very complicated feelings about my writing, but progress is progress and I've been tagged by @illumiera for a wip wednesday.

I am very conflicted about ch. 17 of WYGTYA because it's just so sad, angsty, and the subject is something that I relate to very much, and I feel my readers might do the same, so I really want to do it justice. For now, I'll post a scene form ch. 3 of HOTHS. I'm cooking up something about the Akaviri swordsman because he is joining the crew now! I'm gonna tag @bougainvillea-and-saltwater @kiir-do-faal-rahhe @dirty-bosmer @bostoniangirl21 @pitiable-arisen only if you want to, of course!

~

“It is a one time thing. You have to trust me on this one.” The Altmer shouts.

“Trust, huh? To think that I still have some to spare…” Signe sighs. She gives Rhaim a firm, but apologetic look and turns towards the Akaviri brothers. “Lead them all to the big ship.” She says, and now raises her voice a little louder. “Whoever is able to fight and wants to bring these motherfuckers to their doom is more than welcome. We need to hold them off until the big ship leaves dock, and fight our way through the frigate.” 

“I’ll fight with you.” Renjiro says with a determined look under his furrowed brows.

“What?!” Both Signe and his brother speak at the same time.

“You need me. They all do. I want to do this.” Those determined eyes now turn to pleading.

“I don’t -”

“There’s more to me than meets the eye. Trust me.”

Signe sighs, rolling the word trust in her mind until she’s seen all its faces and meanings.

“I don’t want to put a kid in danger.”

“I’m not a kid. I’m nineteen!”

“Your name ends with ‘teen’!”

Renjiro grunts, then takes a step closer to Signe. “I’m the greatest Akaviri swordsman. With these swords, I killed a God. I think I’ll manage some pointy-eared assholes in fancy robes.”

Signe doesn’t know quite what to say to that, but the intrigue makes its presence known. He barely whispered it like it’s a secret that he’s laying right at her feet. She looks into his deep obsidian eyes and yeah, there’s a young, ambitious kid staring back, but there’s also something more.

“Alright. Say goodbye to your brother. We might not go back home for a while after this, if we survive.” 

The young man gives her the most brilliant grin and turns to his brother, saying something to him in a language that Signe does not understand. His brother swiftly brings their foreheads together and says something back, looking more proud than concerned. ‘Good,’ Signe thinks, and then, with no warning, the young Akaviri unsheathes his swords and sprints to the approaching Thalmor. So many that they were forming a sea of soldiers, the sand barely visible under their robes.

“I like the kid. Think he’ll fit in just fine.” Rhaim winks at Signe before transforming into a werewolf and charging towards the Thalmor.

~

Initially, he was supposed to appear only in a couple of chapters, but I love him so much that I had to add him to the crew! Still not sure if I will go with the 'I killed a god' storyline, but I like it so far, so probably it will stay!