#was using him as reference pose practice

[noray-9]

January 16th, 2024 (Roxas, Kingdom Hearts)

[mala-sadas]

everyone else hyped over the new sygna suits and I’m just here celebrating the fact that my 2nd favorite rival finally made it into the game 🎉

[mythyk-art]

Avery, just in a pose that I thought suited his vibes, as well as an outfit that could maybe work.

He’s an oc of mine. Confident, sometimes cold, and no stranger to dangerous situations. He does well in situations where hesitation can be deadly.

[drefear]

Imagine reader artist, who loves to draw Miguel. And the other day she's just drawing naked Miguel's body. He saw it and just smirks and say: "I've got bigger than that" or "I could show/pose for accuracy"

TW: raunchy smut, Dom!miguel, fem reader, smut with no plot.

A/N: I wrote half of this while at work and a little drunk. So here ya go. Also currently in the process of writing a part two.

Miguel’s face filled your sketchbook, his back in his spider suit, his mask, every angle you could find him at. You often sat in his office for hours while he did reports, sketching him and drawing him. You loved using different mediums and colors, giving him new features and styles. You specifically loved practicing drawing his broad body and sculpted as-

Ahem. Legs.

Yes, ok, fine, you had a small crush on your boss, whatever, no big deal.

You would purposefully finish all of your work as fast as possible so you could sit back and draw him. And because you weren’t loud or annoying, and everything was always done on time and orderly, he let you.

But one mission in particular made him stressed out, and as you watched him filling out data about the anomaly he’d just captured, he glitched his suit down his torso and injected himself with that mysterious green liquid, entrancing you for those glorious few seconds.

It was very obvious he had a nice body, duh. But you never let your mind go too far in imagining him out of his suit, scared to go into a territory you couldn’t back out of.

And now you did, drawing his torso and pecks, shading his abs, and this got you curious about more.

Lower.

Biting your lip, you sat in the cafeteria a few days later. You purposefully sat with your back to a wall, making sure no one could sneak up on you and see what you were drawing, as you drew him laying down. His arms splayed behind his head, face relaxed, as you defined his leg muscles. As you finished the piece of art, the only area you’d avoided was his groin.

And now you stared at the empty area of art, knee bouncing from anxiety about how you were supposed to draw this. You had no reference for him. Yes, you’d seen dicks before, obviously. You lived in a universe with unrestricted internet access, so it’s not like you’d never been around the block, but here you were, blushing like a 15 year old just because of a dick.

Drawing and then erasing and drawing, you repeated the process a few times before you heard someone click their tongue in front of you. You’d been so consumed by what you were doing, you didn’t even feel your spider senses or hear them come close.

Miguel stood with an eyebrow raised and his hands on his hips, eyeing you curiously. “Why are you so jumpy?” He asked and you snatched the book in front of you to your chest, stuttering some bullshit answer about too much caffeine. He just nodded and continued giving you a new order.

You got up from your seat and moved to follow him to his cold, dark lair area. As you were about to step onto his platform, you tripped and your hands flew out to stabilize your fall. As you did, the notebook flew across the floor and slid as your vision blurred from how fast you’d collapsed, getting up slowly and rolling your shoulders. You reached to where the sketch book had fallen, but it was no longer there.

No.

NO.

It was between his fingers, as he flipped through the pages slowly, eyeing your work with his brows furrowed, focused. You jumped towards him and he just turned his back, making you feel like you ran into a wall. You reached around him and he webbed your wrist to the table beside you, still not tearing his eyes from your work.

“Stop, that’s private! Give it back!” You shouted and he rolled his eyes briefly.

“It’s all drawings of me, I think I’m allowed to see-“ and his words stopped as he flipped to the newest page.

The nude drawing of him.

You gulped as his expression became unreadable, stoic, and your eyes flashed between the art and him. “I-I was just practicing forms and poses-“

“It’s… inaccurate.” He spoke lowly before your eyes blinked for a moment, confused.

“What do you mean?”

He walked to you and stood tall, bending down slightly to stare directly into your eyes. His mouth turned up at the ends and his eyes glittered with something you’d never seen in him before.

Turning the book back to you and showing you your own drawing, he smirked deeper.

“I’m much bigger.” His eyes were almost challenging you, making your blood run ice cold, and you felt his hands yank your body against his. “Do you want to see for reference?”

And then his watch made a loud sound, Lyla popping up to explain some anomaly on earth number whatever. He groaned and turned to walk out. “I’ll be back once this is done. Don’t go anywhere because When I do return, we’re continuing where we left off.”

Then he was gone and you stood, mouth agape from the whole exchange. You thought it might take a while for him to capture this anomaly, so You’d decided to go back to your own universe in preparation, showering and fixing yourself up. You bit your nail nervously as you thought about it all. Was he serious? No way, right…?

As you stood in the bathroom mirror, the sound of a portal opening cut through your mind like a knife, making your body rush into your living room. You gripped the towel tight around your torso as you saw Miguel walk out of the colorful dimension behind him and into yours. The portal closed and with that, his mask disintegrated so you could see his face. A bit tired, he still had a less-than-enthusiastic expression on.

“I thought I told you not to go anywhere.” He repeated and you stood stuff as a board, now a bit scared. He took slow, calculated steps towards you as your head tilted back to continue watching him. “Inaccurate and disobedient. I have a lot to teach you, don’t I?” His index finger hooked under your chin as he smirked and grabbed your hand with his free one, pulling you into your bathroom. He looked around for a second before hitting a button on his watch and letting the fabric disappear.

You bit your lip as your eyes took full advantage of his exposed skin. “You- it-“

“Yeah. I know.” He grabbed your wrist and spun you around, bending you over your counter with your hand breached against your back. “Now I want you to really study how I fuck you, so that you get a good look at how big I am, and how easy I can maneuver this body.” He whispered into your damp hair and pushed down, then ripping the towel away and throwing it out of the bathroom completely.

His eyes stared down at your weeping cunt and he licked his lips. “I’ll be tasting you another time. Today, I want you to really feel my size.” He was cocky, and he had a right to be. His dick was huge, almost alarmingly big.

The tip of his cock pressed against your entrance and you clenched your jaw. “It’s gonna hurt, but I’ll go slow. That way you can feel good and still learn.” He cooed in a teasing tone and your eyes found his in the mirror, watching intently as he began to push into you. The sudden width he was stretching you to was mind numbing and your knees began to buckle, but he just held you up with one hand, the other still guiding himself into you.

“Coño, your sucking me in so nicely, might not even need to slow down.” He spoke and your eyes were rolling back from his words, to which you snapped out of once his hand that was holding you up held your face harshly towards the mirror. “No slacking, little girl. You better keep your eyes on my cock.”

Halfway inside, and you were already fluttering around him, on the verge of orgasm. “That’s it, sucia, cum on my cock. It’ll be the first time of many.” You shivered at his words, feeling him sink in further and immediately orgasming. The rolls of pleasure washing through you made him grunt as his hips couldn’t help but rut into you harshly. The lack of prep had you feeling everything he was giving you, hyper aware of your insides wrapping around him.

“Mm, wanna fuck me back? Grind back onto my cock? Paciencia, Nena.” He instructed as you kept trying to get him in further. Wrapping a hand around your torso, he tweeked at your nipples and made you gasp from the sensation. “That’s it,” he mumbled.

Finally, smirked, he chuckled darkly as you tried once more to thrust backwards. “Fine, you asked for it.” He met your eyes in the mirror, now blood red and swirling with the threat as he snapped his hips forward and forced the rest of him into you, making you gargle out a strained sound in shock and pleasure. The pain was beautiful, and began to subside quickly as you felt him twitch. He hit every spot and more, feeling new depths and points of pleasure.

Tears welled in the corners of your eyes as he started a slightly faster pace. Your body jiggled from the movements and the sound of skin slapping against skin filled your apartment, your mouth hanging open as your eyes never left were his dick was buried into you. He smiled, enjoying the way you watched his cock disappear into you over and over, and you felt the pressure building once more. How he bullied your cunt and grinned while doing it made you burst, tears breaking free and a scream ripping through you as your pussy squeezed him.

“Fuck, so tight.” He groaned, head now falling back and he kept going, beginning to chase his own high. Your mind had shut off now, fucked practically stupid on his cock and he rocking into you mercilessly. His speed was unmatched and he moved to pick up your hips to meet his, closing the gap your height difference had created, and finally having him slam into you until his hips met your ass, making you choke on your own oxygen from the absolute brutal beating he was giving your cervix.

He slid one hand to the back of your neck and pressed you further into the counter top of your sink, forcing your pert nipples to meet the cold marble and you cried out more, barely able to push back against him now as you were trapped between his body and your bathroom’s confinements with only your top toes touching the floor. Your face was streaked with tears as he grunted and let out ragged breaths.

“The perfect little pussy, so perfect for my cock. You can take it, little artist. You wanted to draw my cock so badly, now you have the perfect image to do it. Fucked deep inside of you. Draw us like this for me, yeah? I wanna see it everyday. Or should I just fuck you every day instead?” His words tumbled from his mouth like an avalanche and you could feel his cock about to burst, making you teeter over that cliff as well. “That’s it, strangle my cock. Cum all over me, niña, paint me with your cute cunt.” He demanded and you obliged, feeling a shooting electric sensation rip out of you. Suddenly, you were both a bit wet between the thighs and he was mesmerized by what he saw. Your juices squirt all over him and he came instantly after seeing that, pounding into you as far as he could and forcing his cum the deepest it could be inside of you.

Both of you were unmoving as you caught your breath, a layer of sweat covering you both as you stared at each other in the mirror. No words could describe what had just happened and Miguel smiled once more, which prompted you to ask.

“What?”

“You need to get a mirror by your bed. Because I want to do this to you every day.” He watched your eyes widen in the mirror in front of you both as he licked your neck from behind and sinking his fangs into your soft skin, jutting his hips once more and making you realize he was still hard.

“For art purposes.”

Part two is out!

[azrielhours]

Captured

Azriel x Reader

Word count: 2018

Synopsis: The camera has been invented and Azriel takes up a hobby of capturing reader, proving how pretty she can be.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“What is it?”

“An obscura camera, I think we called it.” You turned the device around for him to see the little hole to look through, let him hold it. “It means ‘dark room.’ Light travels in through here,” you pointed to the lens, “and an image is captured using refraction and shadows.”

Azriel frowned in disbelief, making you laugh.

“Watch,” you said, gently taking the Obscura from his hands.

“What do I have to do?”

“Nothing,” you smiled, positioning it before your face. “Smile for me.”

He gave a small, tentative smile. The distrust in his eyes had you laughing again, which made Azriel chuckle genuinely.

You clicked something. A shutter sounded, light flashed, and Azriel’s eyes widened. You pulled the obscura away as it rattled, producing a thin strip of rectangular film. Azriel’s frown returned. “It’s black.”

“It has to develop,” you plucked it away and placed it facedown. “You’ll see in a few minutes.”

“This is what you’d been working on with Nuan?” he asked, referring to the alchemist who’d been in town for a few weeks.

You nodded. “It’s an early prototype, but it mimics the way light enters the eye.” A mixture of her trinketry, your crafty impulses, and some magic. “All this work so we can finally capture your pretty face,” you teased, enjoying the pink dusting his cheeks. You turned the piece of film to him, relishing Azriel’s shock upon peering down at the photograph.

That sincere smile you’d managed to capture was how you often caught him looking at you. A sweet, receptive earnestness lighting his normally cold face. Eyes that beheld you like he missed you even when you hadn’t gone anywhere. Now etched permanently into a photograph for you to cherish.

It was your turn to blush. Playful words aside, this truly did catch his beauty.

He met your gaze. “Teach me how to use it.” You demonstrated, pointing to shoot the nearby bookshelf, but Azriel shook his head. “I want one like that,” he nodded to his headshot.

Your nose crinkled. “I don’t photograph well, Az.”

He scoffed. “Why wouldn’t you?” He positioned the obscura over his eyes like you had.

You covered your face with your hands, hiding. “I don’t like the posing.”

 “Come on,” he cooed, laughing. He reached to move your hair where it fell forward as you ducked your head, then gently held your wrists beneath your chin, broad hand easily cradling them between a thumb and two fingers. He tilted your face up with his hold. You peered at him through your fingers, rosy cheeks peeking through digits. Still holding your wrists, he took the photo effortlessly.

You uncovered your face, still blushing. He wondered how you didn’t see what a perfect subject you’d be. How you could invent the obscura and deprive him of its most obvious benefit.

Azriel studied you, and you saw the gears turn in his head. “Can I borrow it for a while?"

You laughed. “Okay, Az.”

~

It started off rather clumsy, and it took a few tries for Azriel to figure out that lighting mattered. That snapping photos with light in the immediate background ruined the film. He tested his hypothesis by capturing a bewildered Cassian, the confusion frozen making Azriel chuckle. He understood why you’d been laughing at him before. Next, he found that distance was important; that he could shift the angle of his photography. A practice shot of Feyre losing herself in a painting, so focused that she didn’t turn to wonder about the shuttering sound. Rhys landing on a balcony after training. Nesta reading ferociously by the fire.

He got the hang of it and was ready to really begin.

I don’t like the posing, you’d told him. He had no issues with that whatsoever.

The first one happened in the kitchen. The early morning hours were typically shared by the both of you on the grounds of a close friendship. You’d been sipping on coffee like it was medicinal, the light of the sun softening everything. Eyes closed, hair still slightly undone from sleep. He loved seeing you in your fancy dresses, your fighting leathers, but something about seeing you in soft, utterly personal nightwear—linen pants, knit cardigans, slippers—it spread warmth through his chest brighter than your revered sunrise. Today he'd even caught you in his t-shirt you must’ve swiped. Carefully positioning the Obscura over his face where he stood at the doorway, he snapped his photo before inconspicuously joining you, inquiring about the theft he quietly adored. Adoring your answering smile even more.

The next shot was on the rooftop. He’d caught Cassian bandaging you up after sparring. You were sat on the bench, smiling bloody and beautiful. Laughing as Cassian cracked jokes, allowing him to tend to you. He was kneeling on the ground before you, cleaning the cuts on your brow, wrapping your bruised knuckles. The sheer glee in your laugh, the way you sat so comfortably with his brother had Azriel reaching into the pocket realm for the Obscura, capturing the sight of his favourite people bantering fresh out of the ring.

One night after Rita’s, Rhys had offered to fly you home after winning a drinking game against Azriel. He’d winked at the bested Shadowsinger, taking you into his arms and shooting to the sky. Azriel grumbled at first until he’d realized the opportunity he had mid-flight with Rhys ahead. You reached to the skies above, stretching like you could grab the very moon, safe in the High Lord’s arms. He wished the Obscura had the power to capture the sound of your laughter as well, but he’d gladly settle for your silhouette marked by the Night Court stars, their beauty dimmed in the face of your exquisite joy.

The next photo was stolen after a Hewn City mission. You’d been in a billowing dark gown, face so ethereal, so striking and utterly beautiful that he’d struggled to look at you face-on. Everyone had taken to sprawling on the couches after coming home, still in formal attire, helping themselves to drinks as they winded down. You’d fallen asleep at some point, stretched comfortably across the sofa with your head nearly hanging off, hair cascading around you like a halo and down the sofa to the ground. Feyre mentioned wishing she could paint the sight of you, sleeping like some spite or nymph, some woodland creature of beauty, your dress ballooning around you like a nightshade flower. Azriel silently pulled out the Obscura, taking his time levelling the device so the light of the hearth illuminated your face.

“What is that thing you keep doing?” Cassian asked lowly.

Azriel focused, capturing the shot. Taking another one just for good measure. “Nothing.”

His favourite photo was of you and Nyx. You’d been playing with the boy on the balcony, blowing bubbles as he tried dutifully to pop them. They’d land and settle in his hair, making you laugh boisterously, head tipping back as Nyx laughed with you unwittingly. It was like the sun loved you, how it always shone upon you, doing the work for Azriel. He took the photo, falling into the easy routine. Once that photo developed, his heart skipped a beat at its sight. At the promise it captured that he wished was his.

He was a lucky bastard to have this gift—a device that finally allowed him to freeze the light that you were in his life, to etch the sights he so sincerely loved. God, you were special. Azriel had to walk away from the balcony, still staring at the little strip of film, more invaluable than precious jewel. How lucky he was to witness you. Luckier still to capture you in still frames, while you unknowingly captured his heart.

~

Azriel found you in your room, sitting at your vanity. He handed the obscura to you. “There’s no more film.”

You laughed. “Wow. How many photos did you take?”

He shrugged, smiling roguishly. “A handful.”

“Can I see?”

He handed a few.

You rifled through them, gasping at the quality. “These are amazing.” He’d captured Feyre descending the stairs in her regalia, beautiful like a divinity of legend. Nesta pouting playfully, glaring right at the camera. Mor putting earrings in before an outing. “Their mates would love these,” you murmured.

“They would,” he agreed.

You shook your head, stunned. “God, they’re beautiful.” Azriel didn’t know if you meant the photos or who he captured in them. “I wish I photographed this good.”

He would’ve laughed at the absurdity if he could resist his scoff of disbelief. “You do.”

You just shook your head, sneaking a quick glance at yourself in the mirror before eyeing the photos again.

Azriel’s heart stuttered. “You do,” he repeated. “I—” he reached into the pocket realm. “I took some of you as well.” Handing over a few photos, he watched closely as your eyes widened. You took your time studying each photo, brows pinched. He didn’t know if it was in dislike, or—

“Wow,” you breathed. You met his gaze. The fragility in them told him it was awe. “Azriel,” you breathed again, assessing the shots. “Wow. You make me look…”

You faded to silence. “What,” he gently nudged you.

“Pretty.”

He tried to speak. A breath puffed out of him. “Y/n,” he couldn’t stop the reverence in his tone. “You’re beautiful. What do you mean?” He didn’t care how it came off, how saying it warmed his cheeks.

He’d only pulled out a few of the tamer photos. The ones of you with his family or in mundane solitude. He immediately pulled out the rest, laying them before you. The pinch deepened between your brows, looking at the one of you after Hewn City. “Oh my god,” you breathed. You had no idea you could look so… “beautiful.”

“Yes,” Azriel nodded. “Beautiful.” He pointed to the one of you in the kitchen, freshly woken up. “Here as well.” Always.

You took your time studying them, unable to find it in you to care about how stupidly vulnerable this struck you. Too busy grappling with the comfort of feeling this seen. You finally met his gaze, and if you didn’t know any better, you’d have thought that look in his eyes was…

If you were well and truly self-indulgent, you may have called it how you felt inside.

Azriel wished he had just one more piece of film to capture the look on your face. The depth of fondness in your eyes, like he was worth seeing. His heart stuttered again, holding that stare like he could pour his affection directly from his eyes to yours.

“Will you be keeping these?” you asked about the photos.

Azriel chuckled. “Yes. Try taking even one away.”

Oh.

You blushed, breaking his stare. A fine line to toe with your friend indeed.

But Azriel enjoyed that conviction on your face when you saw yourself as he did. “Okay,” he let up, exhaling in mock annoyance. “You can have a few.” He took most of the photos back, making sure to leave you with a copy of the Hewn City one. “I mean, I can always take more.”

You laughed, standing to retrieve your satchel, pulling out spare film. You showed Azriel how to load it in, but before handing the Obscura back, you eyed the first photo he’d taken, with his hands holding your wrists. “I want one like that,” you said, reaching for his face.

He laughed but didn’t bat your hand away, to your pleasant surprise. Only standing firm, albeit leaving his face uncovered. You cradled his face gently by the chin in one hand, resting your fingers on his cheeks, barely pressing. He smiled warmly at you, looking right through the camera at you. You captured him.

“There,” you handed back the obscura. “Now I got you,” you held up his matching photo.

He liked the sound of that. “I have you too,” he raised his collection of your photos in his hand in reminder. “And I’ll be keeping you with me.”

~

taglist:

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[liyawritesss]

ɪ ʀᴇᴀʟʟʏ ʟɪᴋᴇ ᴡʜᴀᴛ ʏᴏᴜ'ᴠᴇ ᴅᴏɴᴇ ᴛᴏ ᴍᴇ

Characters: Spider-Verse!Earth-42!Miles Morales [The Prowler] x Black!Fem!Reader

Type: Fic

Word Count: 1.9k

Synopsis: Miles tells his Uncle Aaron the real reason why he’ll always answer his phone for you.

Warnings: Cursing, no usage of [y/n] or second person perspective, brief mention of potential gun usage, old school gang terms (Aaron refers to a gun as a 'pole') I envisioned a late teen 42!Miles so he’s around 17-18 here, but still keep it cute this is lil cuz we talkin’ bout here!!!

A/N: I know I said that the previous fic would more than likely be my only attempt at 42!Miles but the ugly ass nigga is growing on me so…here yall go i guess

Song Suggestions: “So Into You” (Remix) by Sydney Renae; “LORD FORGIVE ME” by Tobe Nwigwe ft. Fat Nwigwe & Pharrell; “Run Tha Streetz” by Tupac, Storm, Mutah, Michel’le

Tags: @6-noir @babyboiboyega @badass-dora-milaje @jacuzziwaters @mbakuetshurisprincess @shuriszn @verachii @writingintheshadowsforever @cafehyunji @niyahwrites @pantherheart @marsfunzon22 @movie-enthusiast22 @famedrs-blog @briology @honeybleed @pnkweb

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It went without saying that if it didn’t pertain to family or business, Aaron wasn’t quite fond of the use of phones.

He had a real old school view on them; didn’t like how kids these days were always stuck nose deep into the devices. Of course, he came from a generation where a phone’s only use was to contact another person. He never got into the hype of the latest iPhones, nor did he understand the need for five different cameras attached to the device. The only benefit he saw with the rectangular device was that it made communication more prompt and precise (though he’d never admit that he appreciated being able to play any games he wanted, at his disposal, at any time he wished).

So, naturally, when Miles became old enough to engage in his ‘business’, the one rule Aaron posed that didn’t pertain to the ‘game’ was that him being on his phone was an absolute no-go.

“I ain’t got time for you to be distracted by that thing,” he’d said the very first night Aaron trusted the younger to bring him along, “if you gon’ be in, I need you to be all the way in. No half-assin’ this shit, you hear?”

And of course, Miles agreed, no matter how insufferable the first few weeks of patrol were when Aaron literally locked his cellular device in a safe back at the workshop. While it served to pry the connection the fifteen year old had with the device at the time, it was also his way of teaching Miles to not rely on the device for communication, prompting Miles to fortify new avenues of such. Aaron had a genius nephew, after all, and expected nothing less from the person who would soon take up his mantle as The Prowler.

Though, Aaron started to notice a shift in the practice behavior a few months ago, and it made him wonder had his teachings begun to fall short, even after a few years of the settled routine.

He’d notice the flexing of the younger’s arm whenever the faint buzz from the vibration of Miles’ phone sounded, no doubt squeezing the device in his pocket with his hand.

Aaron also was not ignorant to Miles’ dipping off to the side to answer a quick call in hushed tones, and the words used to address the other person on the line made it clear to the older man that it wasn’t Rio calling him, and it piqued Aaron’s curiosity even more.

Though, Aaron could never say anything, since Miles was sure to put his phone on do not disturb before heading out into the night, and the calls always remained under a minute or two, not taking too much time away from their very serious business. He found himself frustrated because Aaron couldn’t be mad at him for being responsible for his phone usage, despite his own feelings towards the usage of such devices. Yet, it irked him all the same when Miles would take a peek at his phone during a moment of down time, or when he’d caught the boy staring at his messages a couple of times during a debriefing session.

“Aye, c’mon man,” Aaron finally grumbles out one night, sucking his teeth at the sight of Miles tapping away on the brightly lit screen close to his face, illuminating his melanated features, “I need you outta that shit, we got work to do.”

“A’ight, a’ight,” says the younger as he finishes off a text, pocketing his phone and brushing past Aaron briskly, “just had to answer my girl real quick. I’m off it.”

“You better be,” Aaron scolds, “we need you at a’hunnid tonight, Miles. No excuses.”

Though Aaron wasn’t about to let Miles’ admission slip under the radar, the current task at hand was much more pressing than the revelation that his nephew was seeing someone. He’d have to play the father figure role after tonight's mission was complete.

It’s when the deepest shade of midnight blue begins to fade into faint purple hues that Aaron is able to bring up the conversation once again. He tries to make it light, but over the years, his smooth talk has become just as rustic as his Prowler skills. “I’m gon’ have to bring the safe out again if I keep seein’ that phone, Miles.”

The echo of the younger sucking his teeth in annoyance doesn’t fly past Aaron’s head. It’s the response he expected from his nephew. He turns around from his work desk to face the younger, leaning against one of the many concrete pillars that keep the building intact.

“I’m serious, boy,” Aaron asserts, “you been on that phone a lil’ too much lately, man. I’on like it.”

Miles scratches the side of his face; he knows he doesn’t have much of a good excuse to use as to why his eyes have been more on his phone as of late. Well, not an excuse Aaron would find plausible anyway.

“A’ight, Unc. I’ll chill.”

It’s not the exact response that Aaron expects, but if Miles says that he’ll watch his phone activity, the older believes him. The younger has no reason to lie to him, anyway.

A beat passes before Aaron starts again, crossing to the middle of the room where the large, red punching bag.

“So, is she a good distraction,” he muses with a knowing look, “or do I gotta be worried that she gon’ take your head out the game?”

The younger pauses for a second, braids dancing along his shoulder. Then, a lopsided grin spreads across his lips as his head tilts to the side, his eyes wandering. Aaron knows that kind of look. It’s the look of a boy high on love, and from the way Miles fiddles with the hair at the nape of his neck, Aaron can deduct that it’s that good loving, too. The kind of loving that Rio gave Jefferson, and it stole the late brother’s heart. It warms his heart to see his nephew sport a look that someone his age should.

“She’s good.” Miles says. “She’s…real good, Tio. Too good, probably.”

Aaron hums in response, the sound coming from the depths of his throat as he pauses, taking in a breath. “Do she know?”

It’s a hard question to ask; Aaron doesn’t want to blow his nephew’s high, but it’s a necessary one to ask. For the safety of all parties involved.

Miles’ smile falters in the slightest, teeth tugging at his bottom lip as his eyes cast downward.

“She know I do shit on the low. Not…all this, though.” And from the tone in Miles’ voice, he, too, knows that it’s better this way.

The older begins to walk towards the stairs to exit the workshop building, gesturing to Miles to follow, “Good.”

Aaron thinks back to when he first remembers the diversion of behavior started. Although it wasn’t and never became aggressive, it started with Miles casually peeking at his phone every now and then, maybe once or twice throughout the whole night the two were set together. He puts two and two together, his head nodding to the conclusion he’d drawn.

“So it’s her you be textin’?” Aaron asks, descending the stairs.

The younger nods, following in tow, “Just lettin’ her know that I’ma be out and can’t answer the phone, shit like that.”

“And when she do call?”

A light, dry chuckle escapes Miles’ lips at the question. “She just be askin’ me shit.”

“Shit like what?” Aaron muses, twisting the knob to the door leading outside, opening it to reveal purple hues slowly fading into peach in the sky. “What color nails for her to get? Password to the Netflix?”

They get to the car, but the silence that takes place during the short time it takes to approach the older’s vehicle answers his own question before Miles does.

“Yeah, actually,” the younger voice, arms folding atop the car roof, leaning against the sleek black metal as he looks at his uncle, “and the color for her peek-a-boo braids; and if it’s okay if she eats my leftover takeout; and if I can hang up her wall art thingy when I come by-”

“-so what you’re saying is, she’s clingy?” The older’s eyebrows furrow in amusement and slight confusion - the way Miles speaks about the isolated experiences has him questioning what kind of girl his nephew was actually dating.

“You know what’s crazy, though, Tio?” The younger poses, pulling the handle to the passenger car door when he hears the click, signifying Aaron unlocking the vehicle finally. “She’s not clingy like that; it’s somethin’ else.”

“You’re losin’ me, kid.” The older chuckles, closing his door once he’s settled inside the driver's seat.

Miles sucks his teeth, tongue poking the inside of his cheek in thought, and Aaron can tell that the younger is trying to find the right words to distinguish what he means.

“I hear guys say that shit like that is annoying,” Miles begins, tugging at the hem of his shirt to pull it down from riding up his toned stomach, “but it ain’t like that to me. She asks me all these things; think maybe it’s because she feels safe enough to ask them of me. And if she feel like I got the answers for her, then-”

The younger stops mid-sentence, contemplating how to proceed with his explanation. Yet, Aaron is all ears, listening intently. Quite frankly, it’s the most he’s heard Miles talk about anything in a long time - his rambling reminds him of the old Miles that once was, before the unfortunate.

Then, the younger takes a deep breath, reclines back into his seat, legs spread in the slightest for comfortability, his hands running the length of his thighs, “Ionno, Unc. Makes me feel good, I guess.”

And in that moment, Aaron’s vision blurs for a second. He can’t tell if it’s Miles sitting in the passenger seat, or if it’s his late brother. Perhaps it's the glare of the sun in his eyes…perhaps it’s Aaron actually seeing the soul of Jefferson shine through his son in the early morning sunlight that dances across his melanated skin.

A hum passes through the older’s throat as he starts the car up, the sound of the engine revving through the silence that settled within the car. Aaron clears his throat before speaking again, “I’ma tell you what I told your pops about your moms, kid.”

Miles turns his head from the window to face his uncle, who shifts the car from parked to drive, hand sitting at the top of the steering wheel. 

“If she make you feel good, the kinda good you know you can’t get anywhere else, and if she make you feel like a man; you keep her close.” Aaron hums. His lips tug upwards when the younger gives a subtle nod in return.

“I’m serious now, Miles. Don’t be like yo’ daddy.” Aaron reiterates as he pulls his foot off the brakes, turning the steering wheel and pressing down on the gas to drive out of the parking lot. “Dumbass almost lost ya moms cuz he ain’t wanna listen-”

“A’ight, a’ight, I got you,” the younger replies, “I’on think she goin’ anywhere no way, though.”

“Good.” Aaron affirms. “If she know of the kinda game you in, then she need to know how to work somethin’, too. Make sure she can hold you down properly.”

“I’on know about that, Unc,” Miles replies, “she too much of a good girl for that.”

“Shit, good girls work the best poles, boy. Don’t get the game twisted.”

“Unc, no one says ‘poles’ in reference to guns anymore.” The younger says through a chuckle as the two drive off down the street, the purples in the sky now fading into a pretty golden hue that casts over the city that never sleeps.

[gildedoak]

More Overlord!Husk AU

@celestialalpacaron - I'm not sure if you fully understand the scope of the ART MONSTER you have unleashed with this idea.

But just got some practice with quick sketches using reference photos - mostly of Frank Sinatra. (Included those too for comparison.) I think my favorite is the waltz one, because I am a SUCKER for ballroom dance. ❤️ And ballet. And jazz. And dance in general. You get such WILD and beautiful poses.

Description below the cut!

[IMAGE DESCRIPTION: a collection of ink sketches of Husk and Angel in the Overlord!Husk AU. One sketch is an overhead view of Husk and Angel waltzing, as they rest their heads on each others' shoulder. One is of Husk kissing Angel on the temple. One is of Husk scowling while holding Fat Nuggets, who's wearing a tiny top hat. The last is of Angel and Husk sitting together, wearing more casual clothes, with Husk comforting Angel as he leans into him, and has one wing curled over him.

The next four are close-ups of each sketch. The next four are the reference photos used.

END DESCRIPTION]

[thedreamlessnights]

Fixation

Ascended Astarion x F!Reader - NSFW

Synopsis: When a mistranslated ancient spell goes wrong, you're forced to suffer the consequences. Astarion takes a keen interest in your... predicament.

Warnings and tags: 18+ (and I cannot stress this enough), aphrodisiac spell, Spawn!Tav, established relationship, possessiveness. Brief referrals to the Rite of Profane Ascension and Cazador. Fingering, oral sex (receiving), blood drinking, multiple orgasms, slightly rough sex. Brief overstimulation, praise, mild degradation, uses of the terms 'pet' and 'consort.'

Word Count: 4.7k

A/N: And here's the second of my parallel aphrodisiac fics for Non-Ascended vs. Ascended Astarion! It was honestly very interesting to write the differences between them. The Non-Ascended one is much softer than this - please mind the tags!

The book must be hundreds of years old, but it feels warm in your hands. You’ve perused it inside and out, practically memorizing the faded runes. Fixation. It’s a weakness of yours. 

Still, how often is it that you find an ancient book of spells? Who knows if you might discover some long-lost secret buried within the pages. And, yes: you’re bored. 

Your messy translations are not ideal for this sort of thing, which is exactly why you’ve chosen a basic spell to start with. It’s mid-afternoon, quiet and still, the soft glow of candlelight illuminating the room. 

The long-forgotten words flow from your mouth like honey - as if they’ve been waiting for centuries just to be said. Light and sweet, they settle into the room and linger for just a moment. Some spells can be felt in the very air, manifesting as an electric haze that tickles the lungs, but not this one. When the sound of your voice fades away, the only sign that the spell has worked is a gentle heat that settles in your skin.

For a long moment, you kneel, studying the small scrape on your finger and waiting for something to happen. If you’d translated correctly, this should have been a basic healing spell with enough capacity to mend small cuts and burns. An increasingly pleasant heat builds in your veins, but the scrape remains untouched.

It should have worked by now. But if it wasn’t a healing spell, then…

Your eyes turn back to the pages, flickering between the references you’d found and the runes. Something connects. A line you hadn’t seen. A word you hadn’t added. The runes on the page - they’re not for healing, like you’d thought. But if they don’t mean health, then…

You stare at it a moment longer.

Lust. 

“Oh. Oh, gods.”

You rise to your feet like you’ve been slapped. The heat is bearable for now but growing incessantly, and there’s nothing you can do to stop it. No counterspell. No healing potion. Anything you try could just as well make it worse. Which poses the question: what the hells are you going to do?

You suck in a deep breath.

First things first: you need to get out of this room. The air is feeling like it might strangle you. 

The chill of the hall greets you sweetly as you pace up and down the walkway, weighing your options. A spell this simple shouldn’t last long. It’ll most likely linger for only a few hours, then dissipate. It doesn’t seem dangerous. It’s not painful. Not yet, at least.

You could lock yourself in the cellar for the night, but that isn’t exactly appealing. The bedroom wouldn’t work, either. It’s Astarion’s room too, after all.

Astarion. Just the thought of him sends sparks flaring through you. It ladles heat into a very pleasant spot in your abdomen, and something flutters deep in your gut. Gods, what you wouldn’t give for him to be touching you.

But he cannot find out about this. By the hells, he can’t ever find out, because if he does, you will never live this down. Which leaves two options: you can either go to dinner and attempt to act like you’re fine, or you can try to hide away in one of the rooms and wait it out. 

Neither one is ideal. Being physically near him, he’ll be able to read you like a book - which makes dinner a very dangerous concept. But if you neglect to show up at all? He’ll be even more suspect. He’ll certainly seek you out and find out the truth in the end.

So. Dinner it is. 

You’ll just have to keep yourself composed, somehow. If only doing was as easy as thinking. But do you really have a choice?

No, you think. 

You don’t.

As soon as he’s through the door, Astarion’s eyes are on you. They always seem to be, these days. Ever since the Ascension. His dark consort, his right hand. His, for whatever he wants. He never seems to see you like he used to, but the sting of that faded long ago. Another thing lost to the ritual.

“Hello, my treasure,” he greets.

You offer him a smile as he takes your hand, pressing a kiss to the skin. You can only hope he doesn’t notice the fear in your eyes or the way you’re trembling. 

The gods must be on your side, because he’s distracted. The moment he releases you, he’s talking with a servant about something or other. You can barely keep up with the politics of the city on a normal day, much less on one with flaming lust in your stomach.

So you follow him to the table like a puppet, moving to your usual seat opposite his. It seems much closer together than usual. Everything does. He could be across the room, and you’d still feel like he was at your side, his breath at your neck. You’re almost grateful that the near-only things you can consume are blood and wine, because your trembling fingers are not fit to handle a knife.

After you’ve taken your seat, you have to put all of your attention into holding your glass. You’d try to act natural, but you can’t even remember what that feels like anymore. Does your skin look cold enough? Is your smile convincing? Is the picture you’re painting compelling, or will your imperfections give you away?

For a moment, Astarion’s attentions are focused on his papers. Then, with a sigh, he sets them aside and looks at you. He seems bored, more than anything. Not suspicious yet. “And how was your day, pet?” he asks.

Your grip tightens around your glass. “Good,” you manage to say. “I found a new book in the library.”

He raises a brow. “Did you?”

You nod, attempting to bury yourself in a sip of wine, but it doesn’t work. The more he looks at you, the more the feeling grows. Your hands are slick. Your mind feels clouded over. 

“A - ah, book of poetry.” Your voice shakes as you speak, and the betrayal of it is like a dagger in your chest.

He sets down his knife and fork. 

Already? you think, lightheaded and humiliated. Gods - you’d known he’d likely catch on sooner or later, but, really? Not even two minutes in? It’s pathetic.

But you aren’t going to give in yet. Astarion may have the winning card in his hand, but you’re determined to play this game for all it’s worth. So you set down the wine, fold your hands in your lap as if you aren’t struggling with keeping still, and give him your prettiest smile.

The glint in his eye grows. “Really?” he purrs, tilting his head. “I didn’t know you liked poetry.”

And as soon as he’s spoken, his voice is in your mind - words you’d thought you’d forgotten, pressing to the front of your thoughts. 

It’s a poem. A gift from Cazador.

The first time you’d seen his scars. 

“I…” Your voice chokes, and you swallow hard. “I don’t read it often. But I enjoy it, sometimes.”

He hums in response. His eyes are fixed on yours like a predator - watching your every move. Every blink. Every swallow. Every tremble. He’s waiting for you to break. 

You don’t. Not yet.

“And you?” you ask. “How was your day?”

“Oh, you know how it is,” he muses, his hand gesturing indifferently. “The usual.”

But you don’t know how it is. He hasn’t told you a word about his work, and you’ve never invited yourself into it. He leans back in his seat, and his expression molds into something complacent as you struggle to find the right thing to say.

You decide that wine on your tongue will be much better than words. It’s rich and dark, mildly bitter, and heady. It lingers for a long moment after you’ve drunk, sloshing around your glass as you swirl it.

The end is coming. Your body is fighting you tooth and nail. Your hands are shaking, your mouth is dry, and your head is foggy. Setting the wine down shouldn’t be a difficult thing, but it feels like trying to thread a rose stem through the eye of a needle - painful and futile. 

Your wrist twitches. A tiny, incomprehensible mistake. The goblet nicks the edge of the table, your grip loosens, and the next thing you know, there’s wine everywhere. Bleeding over the top of the table. Dripping into your lap. Splashed over your chest. The taste of it is still in your mouth, bitter on your tongue.

“You’ve gotten clumsy, pet,” Astarion says. He places his hands on the table, pushes to his feet, and approaches with a languid stride, amused and possessive in his gaze. You meet his eyes, determined not to break.

He grabs a clean napkin and half-heartedly dabs the wine off of you, stopping to swipe a droplet off your chest with his finger. Then he lifts it into his mouth, never looking away. “You’re trembling,” he says.

“Am I?” Your voice is breathless. “That’s strange.”

His eyes narrow. “Are you feeling alright, dearest?” 

“Me?” you ask, your hands clenching into fists. “Of course I am.”

He stares at you. You stare at him. He raises a brow. You paste on your sweetest smile, just for him. 

“You know,” he sighs, circling behind you, “I do hate it when you lie to me.”

The feeling in your gut is ravenous now. You’re nothing short of feverish, buried in a haze of sheer need. You need him more than you have ever needed before. You will not let yourself have him.

You play this game with him because, no matter what he says, you know he wants you to. You slot yourself in as his pawn, settling into your place, competing with him even though the game is rigged from the start; all because he wants it. He wants you to lose, and to beg for him to touch you. And, gods help you, despite this cruel, vicious thing he’s become, you still want him. 

He reaches out to a loose strand of your hair, tucking it away behind your ear. “I want the truth,” he says, leaning in close. You’re shivering with desire. Every part of you wants him near. You fight the impulse to make a sound, and he steps away.

“I really am feeling fine,” you insist. 

His eyes pass over you. You can feel the way they trail along your features, both analytical and skeptical. His head tilts and he smirks, and you know you’ve lost. Just like he wanted you to. 

His hand comes up to cup your cheek. “Little love,” he murmurs, stroking his thumb along your jaw. His touch is warm, skimming against your skin. “You’ve gotten yourself into quite the predicament, haven't you?” The corner of his lips flick into a smile, but his eyes stay cold as ice. “I know lust when I see it.”

Then, he lets you go.

You want to beg him to come back.

“What a shame,” he muses. “I have so much work to do tonight. You’ll wait for me, won’t you, my sweet?”

You will. You don’t have any choice.

A small sound involuntarily chokes from your throat, and his eyes narrow. “Now, now,” he chides. “Be patient.”

He returns to the doorway, studying your appearance with a smug sort of satisfaction. “Oh, and darling?” he says. “Don’t you dare touch yourself.” 

He pulls the door shut after him, and you stare blankly ahead.

Gods. He’s going to drag this out. You know he will - he loves to see you squirm. But to tell you that you can’t touch yourself? It’s particularly cruel.

But this is where he wants you. You’d lost the game, and this is how you’re paying for it.

The time ticks by. The feeling in your gut grows. You have to squeeze the armrests of your chair to keep them from straying. Heat flushes through every part of your body.

It’s a strange thing, being warm. It’s been months since you’ve had warm blood in your veins. You’d almost forgotten how it felt. It only makes this sensation so much more overwhelming. 

It’s like the sun kissing your skin. It’s like fire, searing through your chest. It’s both pain and pleasure, mingling in your senses. More pleasure, perhaps, if you were allowed to touch yourself. You don’t dare to, not even once. Not even a little. No matter how much you want to.

When the door finally opens again, you let out a rush of air. Relief. Sheer relief. But Astarion doesn’t move toward you. He goes to the papers he’d left on the table, rummaging through them. He finds the one he wants, pauses, then glances at you.

“My, my. Look at you,” he remarks. “Gods below. You’re a mess, darling.”

It’s only then that you realize he’s not coming back yet. He’s not here to touch you.

“Astarion-”

The look he gives you silences your words. Your mouth snaps closed, and you try to resist the urge to sob.

“Patience,” he says. His tone is a warning, low and dark. “Or you’ll get nothing at all.”

The door shuts once more, and this time, a noise breaks free from your throat.

You should have just told him. You’d have lost the game all the same, but he might have taken pity on you. But you’d lied to him. You’d kept it hidden. You hadn’t begged.

His message is as clear as day. This is what you get. This is your punishment.

You’d just had to try out that spell book, hadn’t you? You couldn’t have left it alone? Now look at you. Shaking, clinging onto the chair so tightly that your fingers are beginning to go numb. You feel rabid. Whatever self-control is leashing you is beginning to slip.

Just hold on, you tell yourself. Just until he comes back.

So you wait. Your body feels like it’s on fire, but you wait. 

You’ve just begun to consider touching yourself, consequences be damned, when you finally hear the blissfully familiar sound of Astarion’s voice. 

“I’m here now, my dear,” he announces. “You can stop terrorizing the poor chair.”

He’s standing in front of you, looking down at you with a mix of desire and possessiveness. You have to stare at him for a good ten seconds before you realize that he’s actually there, not just a vision. That your torment will soon be over. 

His words finally connect with your mind and register somewhere within the mess of need. Your hands loosen from their grip, and a soft noise escapes from your lips. From pain or want, you don’t know.

“Kneel,” he says.

Your legs tremble when they stand, as if they might finally give out. You sink to your knees, barely feeling the hard stone beneath you.

Astarion takes two fingers and places them under your chin, forcing you to look up at him. “My pet, do you want me?”

“Yes.” Your voice is hoarse, barely more than a whisper.

“Tell me.”

You swallow hard. “I - I want you.”

“Louder.”

“I want you.”

His head tilts. “Good.”

He drops his fingers. You want to scream at the loss of his touch.

“Get up,” he instructs.

You can barely move, but you do it. Your knees shake. You want to grab onto him for support, but you know you shouldn’t. Not yet.

Instead, his hand wraps around your waist. “Just look at you,” he murmurs, echoing his statement from earlier. His other hand comes up to your mouth, his thumb brushing against your lips. 

Then his hand on your waist trails up your back, up your neck, fisting into your hair. “And all for me.”

He pulls you close and kisses you hard. Bruising. His hand cups your cheek, his grip tightens in your hair. His lips are warm and soft and demanding, coaxing your mouth open as he walks you into the table. The back of your legs meet the edge and you pull away to sit, panting as he sets himself over you, straddling your hips.

His eyes are dark and hazy, trailing over you in a way that makes you shiver.

“Gods, you’re beautiful,” he murmurs, trailing a finger along your cheek. His lips move to your jaw, trailing feather light kisses along the bone, and you tilt your head to give him full access to your neck. He hums an approval into your skin.

You barely feel it when his teeth sink in and draw blood. There’s only a faint flash of pain, a muddled sensation beneath your want. You feel his hand rest on your hip. His gentle, wet tongue, darting out to clean the wound.

If he doesn’t touch you soon, you’re sure you’ll combust.

“Astarion,” you breathe, gripping onto the back of his shirt. You know he heard you, but he keeps kissing down your throat, stopping at your collar bones to brush his lips over them. A sharp nip. An apologetic kiss to soothe the sting.

“Astarion, please,” you repeat.

“Hm?” He doesn’t bother to pull away. He simply undoes the lacing of your clothing without looking and tosses the outfit across the room.

“Touch me,” you beg.

At that, he finally stops kissing you and looks up at you, something dark and hungry simmering in his gaze. “Dearest, I don’t know if you’ve noticed,” he drawls, “but I am touching you.”

You’re in no mood to deal with this - not with the scorching flame inside that will not let up even for an instant. “You know what I mean,” you snap. “Please, gods. Touch me.”

But the more desperate you are, the more he pulls back from you. He gives you a look - half amused, half bored. “But I don’t know what you mean,” he says. “I can’t read your mind anymore, my sweet. Don’t you remember?”

Anger and frustration cloud your vision in a veil of red. A sharp noise chokes through your chest, and you tighten your grip on his shoulders, digging your nails into the skin. “Fuck me, Astarion. Please.”

The corners of his mouth flick into a self-satisfied smile. “You’re lucky I like you, little love,” he murmurs, easing your legs apart with his thigh, and you sigh in relief, relaxing into his touch as he returns to kissing your neck. “But you wouldn’t deny me a taste, surely?” he asks. “I want everyone in the city to hear you screaming my name.”

And then he drops to his knees.

You’re left shivering with need, so desperate that your vision seems to be clouding over. The top layer of your clothing has been removed, but you’re still in your smallclothes, and he of course takes his sweet time with you. The feel of his tongue through the fabric of your smalls, so desperately close to where you need him to be - but not there, not yet there - is all but maddening. You fix your hand into his hair and try to relax, but you’re so tightly-wound that you feel like a rope about to snap.

How the hells are you supposed to relax when the sweet friction of his mouth is pressing against your clit - when he’s on his knees for you, his grip on your thighs bruising and almost, almost perfect? You could come like this, riled up to the point of climax, but that would be too easy. He’d never let it be that easy.

Instead, he brings you to the verge of orgasm, bites at the tender flesh of your thigh, then pulls away.

“Gods,” you mutter, caught between feeling like the tiniest action will send you into waves of pleasure and simultaneously feeling like you’re going to black out. “Astarion-”

“Shh,” he says, still on his knees. “Relax, pet.”

Out of the two of you, he’s in the more vulnerable position, but you’d never know it from the way he’s practically holding you down on the top of the table - from the way his eyes are devouring you, practically daring you to protest. 

You know him. The more you rebel, the less he’ll give you. So you don’t. You force yourself silent and suck in a breath or two, trying to remember the way oxygen tastes, trying to keep the dam inside you from bursting open.

A small sob breaks free, but aside from that, you’re a statue. A lustful, slightly relaxed statue. It’s all you can give, and it must be enough, because he finally pulls your smalls off of you. 

They’re so wet from his tongue and from your arousal that they stick to you, and you can see the way his gaze darkens. The way he swallows, taking in a deep breath and setting them aside. He could keep you here all night, but he’d be torturing himself, too.

He starts slowly again, and with every graze of his warm fingers, with every brush of his skin against yours, your body bucks into his touch. It doesn’t matter where or how brief; it’s just the silky trailing of his fingertips over your abdomen, your body is still chasing the minimal pleasure his presence gives you. If it’s his thumb against your clit, your body still shudders the way you know he wants you to.

When his tongue finally, finally meets your clit, you let out a sharp gasp and have to physically stop yourself from following that feeling, from grinding against his mouth the way you so desperately want to. Your nails dig into the tablecloth, but you let him keep his own pace. His own agonizing, teasing pace. 

One finger, slipping inside of you, finding the electrifying spot inside of you that has you moaning his name, your hand tightening in his hair and your hips bucking of their own accord. Then one becomes two. A slow, even rhythm of thrusting that slowly grows harder, faster, deeper. 

He brings you right back to the edge, and this time, he lets you come. 

Your body tenses. Your grip tightens even more. He groans against you, and the vibrations of it course out through your skin. The rope of tension pulls and pulls and pulls until it finally snaps, leaving you shuddering and mindlessly crying out, his name leaving your mouth like a mantra. 

Just like he’d said it would. 

Your consciousness seems to float away from your body - a blinding, sharp pleasure that comes to you in a pulsing, ambrosial wave. When you come down, you’re still burning. The fire wanes a little, but won’t be sated. Not that easily. In many ways, it’s just like Astarion. Running you through, filling you with need, and not letting you go until it’s done with you.

When you come down, you find yourself with wet thighs and covered in sweat, your breath pulling unnaturally from your lungs until you’ve recovered. You’re still shaking, and Astarion is still between your legs - licking at sensitive skin. 

You whimper, and he finally pulls away, his pupils blown wide and an impatience to his expression. Possessiveness. Need. He rises to his feet and winds a hand in your hair, pulling your head back with a grip that borders on painful.

He doesn’t say a thing, but his gaze speaks volumes - the glittering, dark ruby of his eyes, the almost removed way he observes you, eyes trailing over your face. Studying how he’s ruined you, no doubt.

He releases his hold on you, and though you can see his erection through his trousers, his movements are slow - methodical, almost. When he speaks, his voice is low and dark.

“Come here, my sweet, little consort.”

And you do. With your still-shaking legs, you slide off the table and take a step closer, unsure how near he wants you. 

“Turn around,” he instructs. 

And you do.

You only register his hand on the nape of your neck when your cheek connects with something hard. The table. He’s bent you over it and is standing behind you, and the impact barely smarts in comparison to the heat that floods between your legs.

“You like it like this, don’t you?” Astarion muses, dragging a finger along your spine. “You want everyone to know who you belong to. You want me to fuck you into this table and let everyone hear how much you need me.”

And you can’t even argue with him. You can’t argue, because you know he’s right - and he knows it, too. 

You swallow hard, back arching toward his hand. “Yes.”

He’s silent for a moment, tracing his hand along your back. Then he presses his thumb to your clit and you mindlessly grind into him, barely resisting the urge to beg him to just fuck you already.

Then you hear fabric shifting, and your whole body tenses in anticipation of him. 

He’s not gentle, and he’s not tender. He sheathes himself into you in a single, harsh thrust that has you crying out, your hands scrabbling for something to grasp for support but finding nothing. 

“Gods,” he growls, his grip settling on your hips and pressing into the skin as he sets a rough, punishing pace. His voice is breathless when he speaks. “You look so pretty for me, pet. Bent over like this. Say my name for me, won’t you?”

You can barely choke out the sound between his thrusts, but it comes out of you nonetheless. “A… A-star-ion-” 

“Good,” he says, and then his pace turns brutal, every thrust sending your cheek scraping against the table. There’s pain, but you barely feel it - not against the burning pleasure of him inside you, filling you up, and not against the fire in your skin that’s building to a boiling point again.

Over and over.

His breathing is getting faster. His grip on you is ever tightening, sure to leave a number of tender bruises for the morning. He’ll kiss them, then, draw his fingers over them in admiration, but for now: he groans and grips at your hair again, and you sit there and take every inch he’s giving to you until you can barely stand it - the sweet, delectable friction of him inside you, the vulgar, wet noises that echo around the room. Evidence of how much you want him. How close you are.

“Tell - tell me you’re mine,” he says through gritted teeth.

“I’m yours.”

He thrusts even harder, and it vaguely occurs to you that you might not be able to walk tomorrow. You can feel the tell-tale signs of him getting closer - the tensing of his thighs, the panting as he approaches climax, the moans he’s letting out. He pauses mid-thrust and trembles for a moment before he slams back into you once, twice - three times.

That’s all it takes to send you over the edge with him, clenching around him, barely conscious of the table under you, barely conscious of the fact that both of you are in the dining room and almost certainly the servants are able to hear what he’s doing to you.

You can feel him seeping out of you, trickling down your thighs, and you go slack against the table, gasping and trying to remember how to breathe.

He finally releases your hair and pulls out of you, paying no mind to the way you wince.

You definitely won’t be able to walk tomorrow.

“What a good little pet you are,” he remarks, smoothing your hair away from your neck and placing a kiss to the nape. When he speaks again, his voice has gone to that pouty, condescending tone that he sometimes uses. “You wouldn’t dream of doing that to me again, would you, my treasure? Lying to me? Hiding your own pleasure from me? And at my table, nonetheless.”

You attempt an answer, but it comes out as nothing but a helpless whimper.

“What was that?” he asks. 

“No,” you breathe. 

“Good.”

He straightens, running a finger between your legs - no doubt studying the mess he’s made of you.

“Get up,” he says. “We need to get you cleaned up.”

You unstick yourself from the table, legs trembling, and as his gaze travels over you once more, you have a deep, sudden feeling in your gut. It’s too easy. Too easy for you. Even after all the torment you’d faced earlier, stranded and desperate in your chair, it’s not enough. He’s not done with you yet. 

And if you know him at all…

It’ll be surprising if he’s finished with you before morning.

[luxekook]

call him bestie in bed | minwon

❯ pairing: mingyu x reader x wonwoo

❯ genre: best friends to lovers, slight angst, smut, fluff

❯ summary: you realize you’re in love with your best friends. chaos ensues.

❯ word count: 8.2k

❯ warnings: 18+, cursing, reader thirsts over minwon (and who can blame them?), some miscommunication and self-sabotaging behaviors (reader is an idiot for a hot sec), light drinking, brief mention of heavy drinking (one reference to a past event), dirty talk, jealousy, teasing, everyone is a switch but mingyu’s a total baby boy and reader calls wonu daddy, mingyu likes degradation and denial uwu, wonwoo just wants to please uwuwuwuwu, reader has breasts and a vagina and uses she/her pronouns, wonwoo calls reader pretty girl, gyu calls reader baby, smut [heavy makeouts, oral (giving and receiving), fingering, masturbation, unprotected penetrative sex (wrap it plz folx), creampies on creampies hehe]

❯ an: this fic is based on the meme "call him bestie during s*x" and on the beautiful gifset by @jaemtens.

It hits you smack in the face at 10:42 PM in the middle of Seungkwan���s crowded kitchen. Unable to look away, you stare at your two best friends as they pose for ‘candids’ courtesy of DK. Mingyu and Wonwoo lounge against the liquor-filled countertop, murmuring to each other in between flashes of smiles.

It’s then that the pesky little thought you’ve somehow suppressed for weeks finally surfaces, detonating all over your life.

You are in love with your best friends.

You’re in love with Mingyu. His generous heart, his pouty sweetness, his natural caretaker persona.

You’re in love with Wonwoo. His quiet strength, his unmatched wit, his ride-or-die attitude.

And the two of them together? The yin-and-yang combination results in such an overwhelming pull that you just can’t ignore any longer. It’s their inner beauty you really fell for first. But the outer beauty? Wow.

You’re vaguely aware that Dino is talking to you about some sort of new TikTok dance he wants to cover, and you nod along with the proper non-committal hums in response. But when Mingyu grabs Wonwoo’s necklace and tugs him closer, your body short circuits. “I need some air,” you gasp out to Dino, pushing past partygoers to escape to the small balcony attached to the apartment.

It’s empty. No one else seems to be willing to risk the frigid winter chill except for you. You hug yourself tightly as you stare out at the city lights twinkling around you. Heaving a sigh, you watch as the fog from your breath dissipates in the breeze.

Honestly, what are you going to do? How the fuck are you supposed to act now? What will they think of you?

Your mind plummets down dark paths filled with rejection and dismay. How could this possibly end well? The beginning of tears sting in your eyes, and everything feels off-kilter.

Maybe you should just go.

“(Y/n)?”

Your eyes shut, shoulders slumping low. It seems you missed the sound of the balcony door under the roar of your restless mind.

“(Y/n),” Wonwoo repeats with a sigh. “What are you doing out here? You’re going to freeze to death. I made Mingyu go grab your coat.”

You give a half-hearted shrug in response, feeling Wonwoo’s sharp inquisitive stare on the side of your face. You can tell he wants to say more, but he’s interrupted by the balcony door opening and closing with a loud thud behind you.

The weight of your jacket immediately envelops your shoulders. “Are you crazy, (y/n)?” Mingyu practically shoves your arms through your coat sleeves for you before tossing Wonwoo his own jacket. “I swear you’re shaving years off our lives! It’s almost December! It snowed yesterday!

“Well yeah, but that was yesterday,” you reply. And apparently that was the wrong response given the fact that both boys are eerily silent until–

“Okay, what’s wrong? Because I know everything was fine before we got here, wasn’t it?” Wonwoo gently takes your chin in his hand and turns you to face him and Mingyu.

They must see the tears glistening in your eyes because Wonwoo curses under his breath. Mingyu’s nostrils flare. “(Y/n),” Mingyu says softly, your name falling like a vow off his lips. “Who do we have to deal with? Was Dino saying something to you? Because that little shit will pay–!”

“No!” You cut him off before he does anything drastic, because Mingyu absolutely will. “I just needed some air. That’s all. The cold makes my eyes water.”

Your friends exchange a long look that you know screams of disbelief, but you are well past caring. You need to blow this popsicle stand. Now. “I’m out of here,” you plaster a hopefully believable smile on your face, “I’ll see you around?”

Without waiting for any sort of response, you push back inside. The sudden noise briefly jolts you, but the heat is a welcome relief. Finding Seungkwan in the living room, you thank him for the invite and assure him you’ll get home safely. It’s then that you feel their presence again at your back.

“I’m sure you will,” Seungkwan grins at you before looking up at the two boys you’re now certain are right behind you.

You roll your eyes at his antics. “Bye, Boo,” you say, hugging him and kissing his cheek. Seungkwan sends you off with a wave.

Making your way out the door, you stop in the narrow hallway and turn to your friends. “You don’t have to follow me, you know. I’m perfectly capable of getting home by myself.” It’s a difficult feat to meet their hard stares, but you manage it.

“When have we ever let you leave somewhere by yourself, (y/n)?” Wonwoo’s voice is deceptively calm for how annoyed he seems to be by your statement. Too bad you’re too frazzled to pay it half a mind.

“Doesn’t seem fair of me to interrupt your night,” you reply, crossing your arms in front of you. “I don’t want to be a cockblock.”

“A what!” Mingyu chokes on air, fuming. “The only thing that’s blocking our—!”

Wonwoo cuts Mingyu off with a look that clearly screams shut-the-fuck-up-you-idiot before turning back to you. “(Y/n), where is this coming from? We’re your best friends. You can talk to us.”

It’s that statement that makes you deflate. The air quite literally leaves your body in a wheeze of a sigh. “It’s nothing, Wonwoo. I’m just tired.”

You turn before either boy can respond and start walking down the hallway towards the elevators. After punching the down arrow many more times than necessary, you pull your phone out of your pocket and tap the rideshare app.

“Absolutely not,” Mingyu grabs your phone right out of your hands.

“Kim Mingyu,” you growl, lunging for your stolen device, “Give that back!”

Chuckling, that tall fucking skyscraper only holds it up higher. “No, we drove you here; so we’ll drive you back.”

You stare up at him and his beaming smile, his bright eyes, his beautiful energy. It’s too much. Way too much. You slide your gaze from Mingyu to Wonwoo, who has the smallest smile on his face as he looks at you both. He’s always been just as deadly.

It’s the elevator that saves you. The ding is like a bolt of lightning to your resolve, and you launch forward into the awaiting lift. You’ll let them drive you home and then inhale your emergency pint of Ben and Jerry’s Phish Food. You got this.

Turns out you do not got this. The vibe in Mingyu’s black SUV is not it. Everything with the three of you is usually comfortable, easy. Tonight, you know your quietness is making waves. But what are you supposed to do? Blurt out your bombshell of a realization? Potentially ruin your friendships because you’re scared of a little silence? No way in hell.

You need to process this for at least a few days and plan your actions for another. You had to be smart about this. Wonwoo and Mingyu are too precious, too vital to your life to be risked by any means. It honestly should not have come as a surprise to you that you love them. But maybe denial had been easier until now. Because now you feel as if you want them to love you back more than you want air in your lungs.

Ah, the drama.

Finally, the car pulls up in front of your building. “Thanks for the ride, Gyu,” you turn to him, shooting him the best smile you can muster up.

“Anytime, (y/n). I mean it,” Mingyu’s voice rumbles out of him. His gaze hooks on your smile for a half second too long. You blink and turn to the backseat where Wonwoo’s stretched out in the middle seat. His long legs open wide, practically an invitation– Nope. Not going there. Not today, Satan.

“Bye, Woo,” you smile at him and turn to get out of the car.

“Hey!” Mingyu’s voice trails after you as you hop out of the tall SUV, “No goodbye kiss for me and Wonwoo?”

“Or are those exclusively for Seungkwan?” Wonwoo’s door opens as he gets out to take your spot in the passenger seat. His deep voice is teasing, but his eyes… His eyes demand an answer.

“Well,” you pause, knowing that you’re about to give the most idiotic rationale, “Host a party and maybe I’ll consider it.” With that, you give them the most embarrassing finger wave of your entire life and hightail it out of sight into your building.

Later, your phone chimes with a message. It’s to the main group chat with all of your friends.

It’s from Mingyu.

“Thanks for the party, Seungkwan. Wonu and I got next. See you all Thursday night at ours. ;)”

Fuck.

“Wait, I don’t understand,” your sister squints at you through your phone as you FaceTime, “You’re really going to sit there and tell me that you just realized you like them? As more than just friends? Bitch, our whole family thinks you’re in a poly relationship and supports it. Even great grandma Ethel is jealous of your men.”

The sip of coffee you just took comes flying out of your mouth. “What!” You splutter, coughing. “Please tell me you’re kidding about Granny Ethel.” This is not at all what you expected to hear when calling your older sister for advice after last night’s fiasco.

“Fine, I’m kidding about her, but our entire family does think you’re in a relationship.” She shrugs at you like this isn’t news. “I mean, you know that is how they act with you, right? They act like boyfriends.”

“How?” You rack your brain to try to come up with any fitting example, but you can’t seem to think of a single thing. “They just seem to act like good friends to me.”

“(Y/n)…” Your sister sighs, “I love you, but you are so oblivious. Remember last summer? When Wonwoo and Mingyu came to my graduation party, and we both got a little too drunk off of Mom’s wine stash?”

You laugh, remembering how the boys found you and your sister in the backyard chasing each other with your little cousins’ water guns. “Yeah, I tripped over the sprinkler and hit myself in the face with a Super Soaker.”

Your sister cackles, “Such a priceless memory! But I meant what happened after that.”

“You mean when I got my ass handed to me by two overprotective boys?” You shake your head at the recollection of being carried into the house by Mingyu as Wonwoo ranted your ear off about being more careful.

“More like when you got cuddled and bandaged up by your two beefy boyfriends who then wanted to go set fire to a sprinkler for daring to hurt you,” your sister laughs as your face twists at her words.

“That sprinkler did go missing after your party…” you muse, finally giving in and laughing along with her. Your best friends are menaces, and you love them for it. You love them, period. And if that isn’t the crux of it.

“So, what do I do?” You plead with your sister, “If they do love me like you say they do, how can I know for sure?”

“Just ask them.” She takes one look at your horrified face and scoffs, “Oh please, what happened to (y/n) ‘I’m a bad bitch, you can’t kill me’ (y/l/n)?”

“Never heard of them,” you lie.

Your sister mutters what are surely insults under her breath before shrugging. “Fine, you could just test it out instead. See the response to some different scenarios.”

“Yeah? Like what?” You barely get the question out before your eyes widen in terror at the maniacal smile that splits across your sister’s face.

“Here’s what you’re going to do…”

After spending the next week dodging calls from Wonwoo and Mingyu, sending the barest of texts and contemplating your very existence, you find yourself standing outside of the boys’ apartment.

You’re late. The music already pounds through the walls, the door practically shaking with each thump of bass. You’re pretty sure no one realizes you’re even coming. But that’s what the plan essentially is… at least that’s part of it.

The other part is this outfit. You’re honestly on some real hot girl shit in your tight leather pants, slightly sheer black crop top, and black strappy bra.

Yup, the plan is all about attention. You’re not usually one to demand it, but here you are.

Turning the knob of the door, you strut inside. Your friends are scattered throughout the apartment you know like the back of your hand. The music covers up the sound of the door slamming shut, but not entirely.

“(Y/n)!” Jun yells, practically bowling you over with a hug, “You’re here!”

“Hi, Jun,” you grin up at your affectionate friend, “How’s the party so far?”

“Honestly, the vibes were a bit weird before you got here,” Hoshi butts in from behind Jun. The blond haired boy holds out a beer for you, which you accept with a smile.

“I think Mingyu was sulking?” Jun giggles, “More pity party than party-party if you ask me.”

“I haven’t even seen Wonwoo tonight,” Hoshi adds, cutting Jun off. “Why throw a party if you’re not even going to attend?”

You hum, not really sure how to respond. Your skin prickles under the weight of so many stares. You shrug it off as best you can, pushing further into the apartment and greeting friends along the way.

You don’t see them until it’s too late.

You’re in the middle of a conversation with Vernon when your eyes meet his. Wonwoo is sprawled next to Mingyu on their couch. You’re going to kill Hoshi for misinformation when you see him next because you really needed a warning. The way Wonwoo’s arms look in his blue cut-off shirt should be illegal.

Wonwoo finally looks away from you, glancing over at Mingyu. Your eyes follow, and your legs threaten to buckle as you realize Mingyu is already looking back at you. He looks at you like he wants to devour you whole. God, the way his teeth sink into his lower lip makes your mind fill with the dirtiest thoughts.

His dark eyes slowly flick over your body before meeting yours again. You want to run. You want to jump on him. There is no in between in this case.

“You’ve got it bad.” Vernon’s voice coaxes you back to reality. He continues, “If it makes any difference, I think they’ve got it worse.”

And then he just walks away. Like he didn’t just drop that bomb.

Classic Vernon. You can’t help but laugh.

An hour later, you’re playing pong in the boys’ tiny dining room with Joshua against Jeonghan and Cheol. You’ve successfully avoided Mingyu and Wonwoo so far tonight. And with the sort of looks that they gave you earlier, you need all the breathing room you can get. Because is your loved-up mind conjuring up reciprocation? Or are they actually feeling some type of way? It’s honestly driving you insane. So insane you almost miss Mr. Yoon Jeonghan cheating for the fifth straight turn.

“Jeonghan, if I see that elbow cross the table one more time I’m going to tackle you,” you cry, shaking your head at the boy’s inability to deviate from his devious tendencies.

Jeonghan just smirks and makes an elaborate show of pushing his elbow way past the edge of the table. “Oops,” he says, his smirk widening, “Please don’t follow through, (y/n).”

“You little—!” you start towards Jeonghan, rounding the table and marching towards him with purpose.

“(Y/n),” Joshua calls nervously.

“Not now, Josh.” Your eyes narrowing on your prey, “I’m defending our honor.”

“But—!” Josh never finishes his warning before you’re tugged out of the dining room and thrown over someone’s shoulder. A shoulder that smells suspiciously like Mingyu.

“What the fuck?” You yelp, wiggling around, “Put me down!”

Thwack! Your ass stings before you realize what had even happened.

“Did you really just spank me?” All the blood is rushing to your brain, and it’s making it hard to wrap your mind around this utter bullshit.

The world spins around you for a second as you’re tossed on a bed. Wonwoo’s bed. With Wonwoo standing over you next to a pouty looking Mingyu.

“Hi,” you blink up at them. Like an idiot.

“Hi,” Wonwoo drawls back to you. Mingyu says nothing, but the look on his face speaks volumes. Clearly, you are in trouble here.

You push up into a sitting position. “You could have just asked to talk to me instead of kidnapping me from your own party, guys.”

“Oh yeah?” Mingyu scoffs, “Could have fooled us. You didn’t even say hi when you walked in. Not to mention you’ve been ignoring us all fucking week! You’ve been weird ever since Seungkwan’s party, and we’re over it.”

“You’re going to tell us what’s up with you, (y/n).” Wonwoo’s no-nonsense tone sends a shiver down your spine. He reaches out to grab a lock of your hair, playing with the strands. “Start talking, pretty girl.”

Pretty girl?

You’re done. “I don’t have to tell you anything,” you blurt, completely flustered over Wonwoo. You stand, getting him to drop your hair but now placing yourself entirely too close to both of your friends. “I’m going back out there. Joshua needs me.”

“Oh,” Mingyu laughs darkly, “Joshua needs you? I thought you wanted Jeonghan.”

You stare up at him, eyebrows raised. Is that… jealousy? A hint of hope dawns. Your inner bad bitch finally steps in. “And what if I did?”

For a moment, no one speaks. The room practically crackles with tension. Your chest is tight, hands shoved into your back pockets to keep from reaching up to sooth it.

“If you did,” Wonwoo murmurs, sharing a dark look with Mingyu, “We’d have to deal with it.”

“Yeah, you’d have to deal with it,” you nod emphatically. “Why are you saying it like you’d take him out or something?”

They both just shrug. You decide you hate being on the opposite end of the silent treatment for once. Karma really is a bitch.

“You know what? Maybe I will just go out there and jump Jeonghan since you both clearly think that’s what I want. Maybe I’ll even go for Josh, too! Might as well at this rate! No one else is volunteering!” You move to stalk past them when it happens.

Mingyu slides in front of you, blocking any means of escape. Wonwoo comes up behind you. His body leans into yours, halting any more movement.

“She’s not getting it.” Wonwoo mutters. You feel his hands resting on your hips, burning into your skin where his fingers rest under your shirt.

“She’s really not,” Mingyu agrees, staring down at you with furrowed brows and a glower of epic proportions. His hair is in disarray but frames his face so well you really might pass out.

“She is standing right here,” you protest. Your body is firing on all synapses and when Mingyu presses closer to you, his fingers hooking into your belt loops, you have to bite back a moan.

“So she is,” Wonwoo says, lips brushing your ear.

Mingyu flashes you a smile that’s more teeth than anything else. “Finally.”

“If one of you doesn’t start explaining yourself, I'm going to start screaming,” you warn. Except your so-called warning comes out weak, easily being dismissed by the two boys currently sandwiching you in between their bodies. The only reactions are a burst of heat in Mingyu’s dark eyes and a slight squeeze from Wonwoo’s fingers.

You clear your throat, desperation clawing at your insides. What is even happening? How dare they toy with you like this! Wedging you between them like you’re nothing and then ignoring you altogether!

You lose it. “Let me go!“ Your arms push Mingyu’s hard chest to no avail. You push harder, frantic. It’s too much to be so close to them. To feel them like this knowing what your true feelings are.

“Don’t ask us to do that,” Wonwoo murmurs, grabbing your hands and tugging them gently into his at your sides.

“Because you’re never getting rid of us, baby.” Mingyu’s words are a fierce declaration, but the thing he does next is even fiercer still.

He kisses you.

His hands frame each side of your face, gently stroking his thumbs over your cheeks. His plush lips are firm on yours, demanding in their capture.

The sudden feeling of Wonwoo’s tongue dragging up your neck causes you to gasp, and Mingyu doesn’t hesitate. His tongue sweeps into your mouth, rolling across yours.

“Fu-uck,” Mingyu moans against your lips, “She tastes so good, doesn’t she, hyung?”

“Better than we imagined,” Wonwoo smiles against the thin skin under your ear before he nibbles at it and then sucks.

The whimper that bubbles up from your chest would have been embarrassing if you cared about appearances. You’re well past that now.

“You two were discussing how I taste?” How is one supposed to feel about that information?

Wait.

“Without me?” Okay, so you’re a tad bitter. Sue you. FOMO is a curse.

“You can participate now if you want,” Wonwoo laughs, chest shaking against your back.

“Cool,” you shrug, feigning lots of confidence you don’t really have right now. Honestly, fake it ‘til you make it. “I taste fruity with a hint of musk.”

The air stills.

“You—”

“She—”

You grin. Finally. The upper hand has never felt so good.

Suddenly, you’re swung around. Wonwoo’s hand rests lightly on your neck as his mouth descends on yours.

This time you don’t hesitate. Your mouth opens, tongue meeting his. Your hands clutch at his shirt, dragging him closer.

“What? No fair! Baby, I want a redo,” Mingyu whines, his hands gripping your hips before grinding against your ass. He’s hard and so fucking big that you really might be losing braincells from how badly you want him. Or maybe that's just from the restricted airflow courtesy of Jeon Wonwoo. Honestly, it’s a toss-up.

“You weren’t talking about how your mouth tastes, were you, pretty girl?” Wonwoo asks, panting slightly. His lips brush yours with each word.

“Nope,” you laugh, wiggling your ass back into Mingyu.

Both boys groan.

“Fucking evil,” Mingyu sighs dreamily before kissing up the side of your neck, sucking over the same spot Wonwoo had minutes prior.

“Why does it make so much sense that you’re into it?” Your laugh turns into a moan as Mingyu bites down on your earlobe and tugs. “Hey, watch those fangs.”

“Knew you’d be bratty,” Wonwoo chuckles, his hands sliding up your shirt ever so slowly. His fingers tease the bottom of your bra, caressing your tits through the barely there material. “Surprised it took this long.”

“Well,” you say with as much snark as you can muster despite the fact that you’re full-on panting now. “Who can blame me? It’s not everyday my friends corner me, kiss me, and admit to previously conversing about eating me out.”

The boys seem way too pleased about the state they have you in. Wonwoo’s grin widens with your words, and you can feel the smugness emanating from Mingyu as his hands slide into the back pockets of your pants.

You jolt as Mingyu squeezes your ass, and it’s his muffled laugh into your hair that makes you say it.

“Well, it's not everyday, but last week Minghao said he’ll marry me if we’re both single by thirty. So, I’m counting that.”

“How is that even remotely similar?” Wonwoo’s eyes narrow when you open your mouth to retort. “No, don’t answer that. It’ll just make me mad, pretty girl.”

“Hao should know you’re off limits,” Mingyu fumes, “Sounds like we need to have another talk with him, hyung.”

“Doesn’t matter,” Wonwoo shrugs. “We know that (y/n)’s marrying one of us, and that’s it.”

“Again, an invite to this conversation would have been nice!” You cry, pouting in a very Mingyu-like fashion.

“Why?” Mingyu laughs into your hair again, and you’re this close to losing your shit on him. “So you can go freak out for a week like you just did?”

Okay, fair but rude.

“Fuck you, Gyu.” You shimmy out of their holds with a speed you didn’t know you had in you. You don’t make it two steps towards the door before they’re both there, leaning casually against your only means of escape. And damn them because why do they have to look so fine with their tousled hair and swollen lips? The hungry looks in their eyes don’t help either.

You’re really in denial that you’re fucked here.

“Fuck me?” Mingyu smirks, “Go right ahead, baby.”

You march up to him and grab a fistful of his shirt, “You can’t say shit to me like that, Kim Mingyu. Not when you’ve just been tag-teaming me with Wonwoo and then talking about marriage? What the fuck am I supposed to think? That you want me for sex? Or that you want me for more? Because I may have just realized I love you last week, but I know what I want. And it’s not just sex.”

“You love us?” Mingyu has hearts in his eyes, grinning hugely down at you.

“That’s all you got from that?” You huff, turning to Wonwoo to get more of an answer only to find him looking at you with a devastatingly soft expression.

“You love us,” Wonwoo breathes out, his shoulders slumping slightly. The stress you never noticed before seems to evaporate.

“I do,” you smile at him. Soft Wonwoo might kill you, but you’d literally thank him for it. “Now, are you going to say it back? Or should I go grab Minghao––”

“Over my dead body,” Wonwoo growls. “You’re ours, pretty girl. I love you, too. Always have.”

You’re melting. Your eyes pan to Mingyu. “Gyu?”

Mingyu rolls his eyes, pouting. “How can you even ask me that? Of course I love you! Do you think I drive just anyone around no matter what? Do you think I cook all your favorite foods on the regular just for fun? Do you think I haven’t fucked anyone since we met because I’m interested in lifelong celibacy? Baby, come on. I’m yours.”

You jump on him. To his credit, Mingyu doesn't even hesitate. His hands cup your ass as soon as you finish wrapping your legs around his waist. Your lips take his, sucking his lower lip into your mouth and biting down.

“Oh shit,” Mingyu moans into your mouth, “Fuck me up, baby.”

You barely register that Wonwoo has pushed you both further into the room and is currently kicking everyone else out. Screams of encouragement from your friends as they leave are lost on you and Mingyu as you continue to devour each other.

You slide your tongue into his mouth, teasing his with a swipe and making him chase you. You suck his tongue as he enters your mouth.

“I hate you,” Mingyu groans once you let him have his tongue back. He spanks your ass for the second time that night, “Who the fuck taught you how to kiss like this?”

“Archive of Our Own,” you grin.

“Fucking nerd,” Wonwoo reenters the room just in time to roast you. Peak Wonwoo behavior.

“But you love this fucking nerd,” you shrug as best you can when you’re being manhandled by a 6’2 golden retriever type.

The smile you get in return could heat all the buildings in your city this winter. “Bed,” Wonwoo orders.

“What?” The word is barely out of your mouth before Mingyu unceremoniously dumps you onto Wonwoo’s bed and you're staring up at them yet again.

“Now,” Wonwoo says, “Tell us what you want from us tonight, pretty girl. Because me and Gyu will give you anything you ask for. Nothing more and nothing less. You’re setting the pace here. You want to cuddle? Fine. You want to make out some more? Great. You want to get fucked by Mingyu while I cum on your pretty tits? Exceptional. You want to slide up and down my cock while we make Mingyu watch without touching himself? Cool.”

Mingyu’s lips purse at the last suggestion, piquing your interest.

“Last one,” you grin at Wonwoo. “But I wanna ride you in reverse, Woo. I wanna face Mingyu as he sits in your chair and does nothing while I fuck myself on your cock, tease my clit and squeeze my tits.”

“Bet,” Wonwoo flashes you a grin and whips his shirt off. “Let’s go, pretty girl.”

“This is so unfair,” Mingyu whines, trying and failing to act like he’s not rock hard right now.

You both ignore him. Your shirt flies over your head before your hands fall to the fly of your pants.

“Oh no, I’ll be doing that, (y/n),” Wonwoo purrs, kneeling at the foot of the bed. “Lift up.”

Wonwoo slowly slides your pants down your legs, inch by agonizing inch. Vaguely, you sense Mingyu cursing under his breath as he drags Wonwoo’s chair into position and falls into it in a huff.

“Mmm,” Wonwoo hums, staring at you with pure hunger as your pants fall to the ground. Your body is covered by nothing but your bra and panties.

“Down in front,” Mingyu complains.

“Wait your turn,” you snap back, raising up to your elbows to stare at the boy across the room. Mingyu’s stripped down to his tight black boxer briefs, his cock straining the tight fabric.

His surly expression brightens immediately at your words. “I get a turn?”

Wonwoo lightly slaps your clothed pussy, “Don’t get his hopes up like that, pretty girl. Ruins half the fun.”

You shiver at his touch, “It just makes denying him later even more fun, daddy.”

“Too true, pretty girl,” Wonwoo’s grin turns feral. “Now call me daddy again.”

Mingyu’s ranting about your combined evilness, but you and Wonwoo are too focused on each other to pay him half a mind.

“Yes, daddy,” you drawl. The words barely escape you before your panties are ripped off your body and Wonwoo’s mouth is between your legs. His tongue is hot on your pussy, lapping at your wetness.

“F-fuck,” you moan, your hand entwining in his hair and gripping it as he finds your clit and sucks. His tongue circles the swollen nub. Your other hand winds its way up your body to your tits. You pinch and tease your nipple beneath your bra, wishing Wonwoo had ripped that garment off, too.

All thoughts leave your body as Wonwoo starts fucking you with his tongue, small groans escaping him with each taste of you. Your hips grind down on his face, needing more and more. “Greedy girl,” Wonwoo smiles against your pussy, “You lied earlier.”

“What do you mean?” You gasp out as Wonwoo’s finger replaces his tongue, easing into you.

“You should have told us you tasted like creamsicles,” Wonwoo removes his finger from inside you. “Should we let Mingyu try?”

“Yes!” Mingyu appears immediately, sucking Wonwoo’s finger into his mouth. The sight is so hot that you shrug off Wonwoo’s silent askance on disciplining the boy. Mingyu moans around Wonwoo’s finger, his tongue swirling around the long digit.

“Okay, that’s enough,” Wonwoo wrestles his hand back. “Now go sit back down with her taste in your mouth and watch me fuck her.”

“Fuck my life,” Mingyu groans but listens just like a good boy.

You sit up on shaky legs, reaching around to unhook your bra. “Let me,” Wonwoo murmurs as he stands. His hands brush across your shoulders, his mouth following their path with hot kisses. Your bra falls to the bed, and you fling it out of the way.

“Lay down, Jeon,” you shift over, pointing at the spot you just vacated. “My turn.”

“As you wish,” Wonwoo slides his pants down his legs, kicking them off. His cock bobs up, slapping against his abs.

Your response dies on your tongue at the sight. His cock is just so pretty – so long with a hint of curve that you just know is going to fill you up so fucking good.

“Damn, hyung,” Mingyu’s groan sounds from somewhere in the room, “She’s drooling for you.”

Wonwoo chuckles as he slides next to you on his bed. “That true, pretty girl? You want my cock in your mouth? Well, go ahead–!”

Your mouth is on him before he can finish his thought. You suck the head of his cock into your mouth with a moan, flicking your tongue at the bead of precum weeping from him. It’s Wonwoo’s turn to thread his hand in your hair.

“Mmm, yes, just like that,” he rasps, guiding you up and down his cock. You squirm at the encouragement, sucking him down further.

“Fuck, baby, you’re so damn wet,” Mingyu says, the words sounding strangled. “Please let me eat you out while you suck Wonwoo.”

You release Wonwoo with a pop. Flicking your hair over your shoulder, you look back at Mingyu. The boy looks wrecked. The tent in his underwear has a massive wet spot from his weeping cock. His temples bead with sweat, his hair a mess. His eyes are dark, desperate and pleading. His fists clench and unclench at his sides, like he’s seconds away from lunging for you.

“Please.” The word falls barely above a whisper.

“One lick,” you nod, a truly generous queen.

He’s on you before you can blink. Mingyu’s hands lift up your hips, his nose burying itself in you first. “Fuck me,” he breathes you in. You clench around nothing but the air he breathes out. The touch of his tongue on your asshole really shouldn't come as a surprise, and yet here you are, cursing into Wonwoo’s toned thighs.

Mingyu licks you at a glacial pace from ass to clit. It would be a good debate on which of the two of you is greedier. Clearly, Wonwoo is the patient one of the bunch. You reward Wonwoo by bringing a hand to his dick, jerking him off slowly.

“Mingyu,” you laugh, feeling his tongue stall on your clit for at least thirty seconds and counting.

“I th-till lickin’!” is the absolutely insane response you receive in true Mingyu fashion. “It th-till coun-ths!”

“Okay,” Wonwoo’s patience finally seems to run out, “That’s enough. Back to your chair, Kim.”

“Fine,” Mingyu sulks the whole way back. You stare openly at the expanse of bare back presented to you and decide then and there that you’re going to mark up that real estate so good.

The sound of a throat clearing brings you back to earth. “Are you gonna ride me, pretty girl? Or let Mingyu get away with something else, too?”

You scowl, hooking a leg over Wonwoo’s lap. You shoot him a glare over your shoulder as you sink down on his cock. “Happy, daddy?” You pant, feeling yourself stretched out so good on his dick.

“You have no idea, pretty girl,” Wonwoo’s eyes squeeze shut as he flexes, fucking his cock up into you.

You both moan. Your head falls back as Wonwoo’s hands grip your hips and ass, fucking you at a demanding pace.

“Harder,” you order, bringing a hand to your clit, circling it in time to his thrusts.

“Brat,” Wonwoo says with a spank that has you clenching down on him and has him chuckling. “Knew you liked it when Gyu spanked you.”

Mingyu, ever the opportunist, takes the mention of his name as a go-ahead to start talking. “Knew you liked it, baby. You squirmed all over me. Look at you now, falling apart on Wonu’s cock. You like how he fucks you, (y/n)?”

You glare at the boy across the room. Mingyu looks even more fucked out than you, so you have no idea where he’s getting the audacity to come at you like this. His arms are behind his back, causing his biceps to flex outrageously. His head is tilted back, showing his neck as he watches you with heavy-lidded eyes.

“Careful, Mingyu,” you warn, leaning back to place a hand on Wonwoo’s chest. You start fucking yourself down onto Wonwoo’s cock, meeting each of his thrusts. Your eyes never leave Mingyu’s. You grin at the rapid steam of curses the other boy emits. “You were awfully confident for a boy seeing none of the action. What happened?”

“So mean,” Mingyu whines, his cock twitching in his briefs at your words. He brings a hand to rub it.

“Don’t,” you order, nails digging into Wonwoo’s skin as his thrusts quicken. Mingyu whines but listens.

Wonwoo hits that sweet spot inside you and you whimper, “Yes, Woo, right there, please, daddy.”

“Like that, pretty girl?” Wonwoo’s raspy voice sends an added shiver down your spine as he hits that spot again and again. You feel the warmth of your impending orgasm sweep up your body.

“Yes, yes, yes,” you cry, swiveling your hips. “Want your cum, daddy!”

“Fuck,” Wonwoo growls, his hips stuttering for a quick second under you. “You want my cum, (y/n)? I told you I’d give you anything. You want me to stuff you full, pretty girl?”

Every stroke of his cock brings you closer, his words edging you closer still. “Yes, daddy, please! Fill me up. I want to feel you dripping out of me!”

“Goddamn,” Mingyu groans, bringing your attention to him. His briefs are abandoned now, your eyes immediately go to his cock. His giant cock that really looks like it needs attention from how pink and swollen it is. Precum is leaking down the tip onto his thighs and you really want to taste it.

“Gimme,” you say, pointing at his cock.

“What?” Mingyu’s eyes are glued to the way your tits bounce with each push of Wonwoo’s cock.

“I wanna taste your precum on your fingers. Now, Gyu!” You demand, so fucking close to cumming all over Wonwoo but still desperate for more.

“Goddamn,” Mingyu curses as Wonwoo’s hand slaps your ass twice in rapid succession.

“Greedy girl wants both of us inside her already, Gyu,” Wonwoo’s voice is strained with the effort not to cum before you do. “Give it to her.”

Mingyu stands, scooping the drops of precum onto his pointer and middle fingers and crosses the room to you. He barely moves his fingers in front of your mouth before you suck them into your mouth. “Shit,” Mingyu sighs, eyes glued to the suction of your mouth around his digits.

Your eyes fall closed, the taste of Mingyu on your tongue and the pounding of Wonwoo’s cock inside you are overwhelming. You cum with a scream, gushing all over Wonwoo as he continues to fuck you through your orgasm. “Wonwo-ooo!” You cry, your body falling forward into Mingyu’s, his fingers falling from your lips.

“Yes, pretty girl,” Wonwoo groans, his thrusts becoming wild, “Milk my cock.” You feel him coming, painting your walls and filling you up with his warmth. The grumbled curses falling from his lips make you clench around him one more time, and the moan he emits is nothing short of beautiful.

“God, (y/n), I really fucking love you,” Wonwoo slowly turns you around in his lap, bringing you down to cradle you to his heaving chest.

“Love you, too,” you smile, kissing his neck before licking a trail of sweat from it. How are you still needy? You can feel the cum beginning to drip out of your pussy and squeeze as best you can to keep it inside you.

Wonwoo’s body jolts. “(Y/n),” he groans, “Gonna kill me.”

“Nah,” you smile, “Like you too much.”

A throat clears from behind you, “Yeah, this is sweet and all, but I’d just like to remind you both that I’m so hard I might pass the fuck out.”

You and Wonwoo just grin at each other, much to the displeasure of the boy behind you. You pull back from Wonwoo’s neck to give him a kiss. He smiles against your lips. “Go put him out of his misery before he keeps us up all night jerking himself off.”

“Hyung!” Mingyu cries before muttering, “How did I forget how much of a little shit post-nut Wonwoo is?”

“Not as much of a little shit as pre-nut Mingyu apparently,” you laugh, moaning slightly as you ease Wonwoo out of you. You turn to look at Mingyu over your shoulder. “Help me up, please?”

Mingyu is pouting – again – but ultimately helps you off the bed. You stare up at the boy before you. His hair is damp with sweat, his muscles straining. His cock juts between you, the vein pulsing angrily. You close your hand around it.

“Shit,” Mingyu hisses, body jerking forward into your hold. His cock is hot velvet beneath your grasp.

“Such a good boy,” you murmur, “Waiting so nicely over there while your hyung fucks and fills me.” Mingyu moans at your words, cock twitching with each tug of your fist. “Did you like watching us?” You question, “Did you picture it was you fucking me instead of him? Did you want it to be you that was stuffing me full of cum? That it was you making me cream on your dick?”

“Liked watching you and hyung,” Mingyu pants, eyes rolling to the back of his head, “But want you to fuck me, too.”

“Sit,” you push him back into Wonwoo’s chair. You hear the slight protest from Wonwoo behind you but choose to ignore it. Oops.

Climbing onto Mingyu’s lap, you position yourself over his cock. “You like feeling Wonwoo’s cum coat your cock, baby boy?” You purr, grinding yourself on his dick back and forth.

“Fuck yes, baby,” Mingyu’s hands rest heavily on your hips as you continue to coat his cock with your and Wonwoo’s juices.

“You gonna give me your cum, too?” You lean over, placing open-mouthed kisses all over his throat.

“All of it,” Mingyu’s words die on his lips as you finally take him inside you.

You both curse. He’s bigger than Wonwoo, and the stretch is almost absurd. His grip on your hips turns bruising, but you don’t care. You drag your hands down his back, digging your nails into his pretty skin.

Unlike with Wonwoo, you’re setting the pace, truly riding Mingyu into a frenzy with each swivel of your hips.

“Fuck, baby,” Mingyu moans, biting his lip, “Dreamt about this.”

“Did you now?” You bite his neck, “And how does reality compare?”

“Better than anything I could have thought up,” he pants out, cock twitching inside you. A hand leaves your hips and comes to rest on your pussy. His fingers tease and circle your clit, drawing a moan out of you.

“Your pussy grips me so good.” Mingyu’s head drops to your shoulder, “Wanna stay here forever.”

“Sharing is caring,” Wonwoo says, suddenly popping up in your field of vision. He’s still naked aside from a pair of glasses he must have just slipped on after taking out his contacts. Your eyes fall to his cock… It’s hard again.

“Fuck off, hyung,” Mingyu ducks his head lower and sucks your nipple into his mouth.

“Yeah,” you sigh, cradling Mingyu’s head closer to you with your palm, “Fuck off, hyung.”

“Careful,” Wonwoo grabs your hair in his fist, yanking your head back to meet his eyes. “I’ll put that smart mouth to work again.”

The sassy reply dies on your lips when you feel Mingyu’s cock jump inside you. “Oh damn,” you giggle, causing the boy to twitch even more beneath you. “He really does like it when we’re mean.”

Wonwoo’s lips quirk, “I know, pretty girl. He’s helpless.”

“Hate y’all,” Mingyu mumbles around your tit. His fingers increase their pace against your clit, drawing you higher and higher.

“She’s close, Gyu,” Wonwoo warns, like it hadn’t already been abundantly clear from your actions. Wonwoo’s hand still grips your hair, while the other is jerking himself off.

“Thank god,” Mingyu stutters, hips shifting up underneath you. “Wanna cum. Please let me cum, baby. Wanna fill you up like Wonu did.”

His pleas more than anything hurtle you closer to coming, the fucked out expression on his face is a thing of beauty.

And so you deny him. “Not yet,” you gasp out, doubling your pace. “Not ‘til I say you can.”

“Fuck, please, (y/n),” Mingyu’s eyes squeeze shut, “Feels so good. Can’t hold on.”

“You better,” you grind your hips viciously into his. “Now suck my tits again like a good boy.”

He listens immediately, moaning around your sensitive nipple as you continue to fuck yourself down onto him.

“You’re wrecking him,” Wonwoo tugs your hair, bringing your attention back to him. His cheeks are pink with exertion as his fist works his cock harder - the tip swollen and leaking. “Where do you want my cum this time, pretty girl? Tell me now.”

“My ass,” you moan, wiggling it before pushing up almost all the way off of Mingyu. “Want you to cum all over my ass, daddy, while my pussy sucks all the cum out of my baby boy.”

“Consider it done,” Wonwoo grins, releasing his hold on your hair to stand behind you in position.

You return your full attention to the boy quaking under you. “P-please, baby,” he whines, “So fucking close.” You place a gentle kiss on his lips. A deception he easily falls for. Cutie. As soon as Mingyu sighs into your lips, you sink down his cock in a split second.

“Ah!” He cries, thighs clenching underneath you. Tears leak from his eyes as he throws his head back, the strain of not coming exhausting him.

“Such a good boy,” you purr, hands stroking up and down his chest. You ride him hard, pace brutal. “Come.”

The word barely finishes before he’s coming with a roar, hands gripping your hips, cock deep inside you. You feel his release shoot so deep within you, joining Wonwoo’s. That thought alone sets you off, your orgasm ripping through you. Seeing stars, you whimper as you feel Wonwoo’s own release paint your ass.

The flutters of your pussy milk every last drop out of Mingyu and the poor boy is spent under you. “Fuck me,” he moans, his head buried in your tits. “Never gonna let you go. This pretty fucking pussy is ours.”

Wonwoo’s hands are on your ass, rubbing his cum into your skin. “Damn right, Gyu,” he agrees, emphasizing his point with a slap.

Mingyu groans as he experiences first-hand what those spanks do to you. “Never thought I’d say this but don’t spank her again, hyung.” You and Wonwoo laugh, and Mingyu groans even louder. “No laughing either! Oh my god.” His frustrations only make you laugh harder.

“Hyung!” Mingyu cries, and Wonwoo finally takes pity.

“Alright,” Wonwoo chuckles, tugging you off Mingyu and into his arms. You pout at the sudden emptiness. “Don’t give me that look, pretty girl. We have all night.”

“We have forever,” Mingyu corrects, standing and running a hand through his wet hair. How the fuck does he still look that good? Honestly, it’s unfair.

“I never said we didn’t,” Wonwoo retorts and sends the both of them into a frenzy of bickering.

Mingyu: “Well, I just wanted to clarify so she doesn’t get ideas.”

Wonwoo: “Ideas?”

Mingyu: “Like– Well– You know!”

Wonwoo: “I don’t know.”

Mingyu: “Yes, you do!”

Wonwoo: “I don’t.”

Mingyu: “… I hate when you do this shit!”

Wonwoo: *pushes glasses up nose* “What shit?”

Mingyu: *produces series of unintelligible babblings*

“Okay, okay!” You laugh, patting Wonwoo’s arms to be put down. “I really need to use the bathroom, but feel free to continue this without me.”

Mingyu shoots Wonwoo a glare, but the other boy only has eyes for you. He sets you down gently, “Go get cleaned up, pretty girl. Feel free to shower and take any clothes you want, okay? We’ll be right out here.”

“I’ll make us some ramen!” Mingyu bounces on his feet, eager to contribute. “Or would you prefer something else? I’ll make anything! I just know you really like ramen. It’s your favorite! But–!”

You cut him off, “Ramen’s perfect, Gyu. Thank you.” You smile up at the gorgeous boy with the even more gorgeous heart. How lucky are you to call him yours?

“Okay,” Mingyu breathes out, looking just as taken with you.

“Okay,” Wonwoo clears his throat, ever the voice of reason. “Now, get going so we can all cuddle, people!” Your heart sings.

“Yes!” You cheer, skipping on the way to the bathroom. “Can’t wait to cuddle in bed with my besties!”

Silence greets your ears.

You slowly turn around to find them both staring at you with displeased looks on their faces.

“What?” You blink.

“Besties?” Wonwoo growls out.

“We just had our dicks inside you, baby!” Mingyu pouts. “Surely that’s boyfriend status?”

“Oh,” you pretend to think it over, enjoying how much this is annoying the two of them. “Anything for my besties, I guess!”

“(Y/n)!” Their voices bellow as you slam the bathroom shut behind you and lock it. Cackling, you turn the shower on. You’re so going to enjoy teasing the shit out of your two new boyfriends. After all, they’ll always be your besties, too.

an: hope y'all enjoyed! it's been so long since i've written anything but damn did minwon give me some inspiration uwu

© luxekook do not repost, edit or translate as protected under this license

[pigdemonart]

Battle Subway Depot Agents (by pig-demon)

When I made designs for these guys last year I didn’t really think they needed colored references/master post, but since then I’ve drawn them a lot! Also people have added them to their fanfics and drawn fanart! So I figured it was time I made a post for easy ref. :]

These designs are obviously free to use, just give credit (and link me your work if you're comfortable, because it makes me happy to see!) All I request is to stay respectful to their pronouns and skin colors, ya knooow… 👍 note: The pokemon on their cards are all companions, not the ones they use on the Battle Subway. Except Jackie...the litwicks are just there to fill space/give them company.

More info under cut:

Edit: Important disclaimer:

These are again my designs/interpretations for the agents. Please don’t treat them as canon or as the only, quintessential designs for these literal background npcs. Many people have done takes on them before and after me, even back in 2010. It feels silly to ask, but due to past experience, I ask that you please DONT hunt down anyone that does a different take on the depot agents!! 👍

Tags:

I'm gonna start tagging them individually, but for now all Depot Agent comics and art on this blog are tagged under Depot Agents.

Height chart:

I’m not too strict about heights, so I don’t really care about actual measurements. Here’s an approximation of what I tend to visualize though:

Sexualities/Gender Identities: I don't have official labels for each and every agent because I like keeping things fluid for characters to develop these traits on their own. However, as a queer person, I enjoy designing characters who are also queer, therefore I can safely say none of these characters are straight. The ones who are set in stone are Ramses (gay man), Cloud (lesbian woman,) Jackie (non-binary.) Furze uses he/they pronouns but their gender is undetermined. I also welcome anyone giving the agents a different gender identity to suit them (as long as it's done respectfully.)

Notes about each agent...

Cameron:

- Cameron dyes parts of his hair blonde and keeps other parts in black. This is because he is a big fan of Elesa and her fashion choices.  - Though there have been a few occasions to meet his idol, he is always way too nervous to approach her, feeling deep down that he'll mess up somehow. - He practices modeling poses in secret. He loves flourishes and flare, but is simply too insecure to put it on display. - Of his coworkers, he gets along the best with Furze. He's the easiest to talk to because Furze will do most of the talking. - Cameron is easily intimidated — even mean Pokémon can make him nervous. Though, his two worst fears are being left in a room alone with Jackie, and being left alone in a room with Isadore. - He takes advantage of his height to sometimes hide behind some of his coworkers. - Cameron is much better at Pokémon battles than he gives himself credit for. Emmet and Ingo were pleasantly surprised by this, since Cameron was promoted to fit a temporary role on the Battle Subway. They happily made him a permanent member when he proved himself capable. - His Dwebble (Pebby) is secretly very strong, and rushes to protect Cameron when it can. Cam sometimes thinks Pebby helps him feel more confident in himself too.  - If he stumbled into any of his coworkers outside of work, he would simply explode of embarrassment. - He is the youngest child and only son of his family. He lives in his own apartment in Nimbasa.

Cloud:

- Cloud (like Ramses) knew the twins when they were very young. - She used to be an ace trainer in her youth, even going so far to compete in the Pokémon league. Winning and becoming the champ was the most important part of her journey, but something happened along the way that changed that outlook. - It seems with age, her competitiveness has mellowed out. However, she maintains an intense energy when battling.  - Her favorite types are Psychic and Flying types. Swoobat (Sweetie) is her ace.  - Her favorite hobby is baking, and she often bakes sweets for the crew. She knows all their favorite flavors by now! - She prioritizes keeping a friendly relationship with all her coworkers and thinks of them fondly. She considers Ramses family after all the years of working together!  - She is a big fan of Brycen's movies and can recite the lines. - She lives with her wife in Anville. - Cloud loves doing maintenance work both at home and in Gear Station. She enjoys bringing her own tools and industrial flashlight.

Furze:

- Furze only has one volume setting (mid loud,) but he finds himself feeling right at home when talking to either one of the twins. - Furze has ADHD, and this is reflected in some of his habits, most visibly is his fidgeting when sitting still for too long. - He rides a bike to work every day. When he is late, Cloud clocks in for him so he doesn't get in trouble. - This is a kind of a guy that sits crouched gargoyle style on chairs. Only outside of work, of course. Bad posture could get him in trouble. - While working on the Battle Subway, there will be times Furze feels sorry for his opponents and offers to quietly let them pass anyways. This...has also gotten him in trouble. :[ - He went to the same elementary school as Isadore in Castelia. Though Isadore seems to have forgotten their short-lived acquaintance, Furze has not. This is part of the reason Furze claims they are in fact good friends!!! - Furze is the middle child of a big family. He lives with his mom and takes care of her, along with his many Darumakas and Darmanitan. All of his Pokemon have famous trains names. - He collects model trains. Naturally.

Isadore

- Isadore had plans to become the station master the moment he was hired as a depot agent, but alas... (sad trumpet sound.) - As a youth, he was more interested in science and engineering over Pokemon battles. He enjoys the strategizing aspect, at most. Not so much the competitiveness. - In addition, his Pokemon are all rescues and not used for battling. He's had his Watchog (Winston) since he was in his late teens. - His Electrode (Gregor) and Voltorb (Leonard) were rescued from the likes of Team Plasma. - Isadore admits he understands Pokemon better than humans. This has been apparent his whole life. - In spite of acting like a sitcom villain, Isadore cares about the management of Gear Station and the safety of the passengers to an incredible degree. He sees it as a personal life goal to assist in the management of Gear Station, as well as the success of the Battle Subway. - Though it pained him to become a subordinate to the twins, he begrudgingly accepts it for the greater good. - His almost militant efficiency certainly made up for his years of antagonizing the twins before they became the bosses. Ingo and Emmet understand this better than anyone. - Isadore keeps tabs on all of the staff members. So he very well knows all their birthdays and makes it a point to celebrate it. This is by no means a -happy- or -festive- event. It's just customary. - Like Furze, he was originally from Castelia, but now resides in Nimbasa. Isadore's only family is his mom and she lives in his childhood home with their Stoutland. - Isadore would have probably been voiced by every glasses guy ever J. Michael Tatum had he not already been cast as dear Emmet lmao

Jackie

- Jackie is a mystery and they like keeping it that way. When they talk, it's practically impossible to determine what is a lie or truth, especially if the subject is themselves or their background. - They love scaring Cameron the most and will ask to be paired with him whenever possible. They claim Cameron is their "favorite coworker," while Isadore is the least favorite. - It's plain to see why -- Jackie is the only one that doesn't passively tolerate Isadore's tirades. - Though my comics sometimes may allude to Jackie being a ghost/supernatural, this is not confirmed nor canon. I just personally enjoy toying with the concept. : ) That being said...

- Item #: SCP 7453

- Object Class: Euclid

- Special Containment Procedures: The ████ ██████ is ██████ within ████-██████. - Ingo and Emmet choose to not question anything about Jackie, since it's clear they're one of the more efficient workers. However it can be a safety concern... - Cloud and Ramses have worked with Jackie for a long time, though they've forgotten somehow. They believe Jackie is a new hire since they appear to be young. - Anyone trying to make sense of Jackie's employee records simply can't bring themselves to any conclusions. It's better to ignore the inconsistencies. - Jackie has never been seen to leave Gear Station. Jackie has never been seen in anything but their uniform. Jackie has never been confirmed to eat, drink or blink. Jackie knows your secrets. Jackie thinks it's... amusing.

Ramses

- Ramses sometimes misses having a full head of hair, but he thinks his signs of age make him look distinguished. (he is correct.) - Ramses is sort of the "mom friend," making sure everyone's concerns are heard, as well as trying to keep the peace whenever a conflict might arise. - If another coworker is feeling low, Ramses will try to cheer them up with a lighthearted joke or offer advice if they'd like it. - When the twins were promoted to bosses of the Battle Subway, Ramses cried because he felt so proud. - In most circumstances, he is a very simple and logical man. He is quick to find solutions and tries not to fret over the little stuff. It's not good for his heart after all. - His ace is his Pikachu (Musa,) though the mouse is more of a lap pet now. At home, he also has an Audino (Sara) and a Manectric (Nubi) who keep Ramses' husband company. His Klinklang (Moli) is the only one of his personal pokemon that accompany him to work nowadays. - Ramses considers Cloud family. They are best friends and love having family gatherings outside of work. They also gossip a lot, and don't mind when Jackie decides to join. - Ramses jokes about looking forward to retirement, but really doesn't want to leave until he is physically incapable of working anymore. Gear Station is like a second home to him.

In-Game Quotes

The most important reference of all are their in-game quotes, of course, so I'm adding it to the post. A lot of their personality traits can be extracted and interpreted from these few lines. And I personally love that about Pokemon NPCs -- there's a lot of room to explore and play with. Some appear very obvious. Cameron practically announces that he isn't ready for the battle that's about to ensue and seems genuinely surprised to win. Furze comes out the gate talking about the subject they actually care about, which is their job and their love for trains. The two of them are very easy to understand. Now, Ramses lines allude to a gentle and simple personality. He views himself with humility, and maybe even with a bit of humor comparing himself to a train and to his opponent to a station. If he loses he shows no signs of disappointment, he just accepts defeat with one last honest quip. It s also amusing to see the Depot Agents all use train metaphors to describe themselves since it falls in line with how Ingo and Emmet talk.

In comparison, Cloud does the same thing calling herself the terminal instead. Immediately, she is way more daring, though still keeping a sense of professionalism. To me, it's obvious she is competitive as she even admits she was expecting to win ("Ah...I didn't see it coming.") Jackie's lines are fun since it's up to interpretation if they are being literal or lying. It's almost like they are more interested in confusing/creeping out their opponent than actually beating them. To me, it gives off a mischievous vibe. Isadore's opener "There are only two roads in life." is a curious one because it almost feels like he is trying to be philosophical. Definitely a guy who views himself as an intellectual, regardless if that’s true or not. I like to think it's a saying he really believes in, and it applies to his life. The road he likes (long route) vs the road he hates (shortcut) -- fighting tooth and nail to become boss vs biting his tongue and accepting Ingo and Emmet as the Subway Masters.

Those are just my thoughts on how I write these characters. Please have fun playing with these lines too!

[lamprophonia]

》 [ yandere!Jock. ] 《

masterlist.

yan!jock x gn!reader: introduction. 1273 words. reader referred to as 'you'. cw for general yandere behavior.

DO NOT USE OR REPOST MY WRITING ANYWHERE.

elijah steele is the best goddamn actor in your school.

the theatre kids could learn from him, honestly, because there is no way in hell anyone else could have convincingly pulled off what he did: pose as the nicest, most helpful and kind student in the entirety of the sorry shithole that is eastview high for four years straight.

to literally everyone, elijah is so sweet it's almost vomit inducing. the school's golden boy — smart, nice, strong. best player on the football team, co-captain of the swim team, and part of the basketball team for good measure, helpful, always cheery, and he got good grades.

even amongst his peers, he was always considered the most straight-edge one; still, he was pretty much universally liked. he was genuinely friends with everyone, never judging or turning anyone away.

what's not to love?

well, probably the fact that all of that is a lie, an ever on-going act. a carefully crafted persona, custom made to hide the fact elijah steele is a colossal prick.

it's honestly almost too easy for him. help teachers out here and there, talk to the right people, go to the right parties, and play on some teams, and boom, the entirety of eastview wrapped around your finger. he's made high school a game for himself, and he has been winning for four years straight.

elijah's obsession with you didn't kick in right away. he saw you and was... eh, rather neutral. he decided you were pretty enough, and homecoming or some other stupid dance he didn't actually care about was coming up, so he needed a date to look good. you were just a pawn, after all, no different from anyone else. an accessory — good-looking and non-threatening enough.

no, the obsession started when you rejected him.

worse than reject him: you saw through the finely crafted veil he's always putting on — through the smile that's as fake as it is charming, the tone of voice that's almost a bit too nice — you saw through it all, and didn't hesitate to let him know.

and oh.

it hurt.

with a few words and an unimpressed look, without even realizing it, you broke elijah's game. you weren't playing along. and hey, he might be a prick, but he's a prick with feelings. a lot of very conflicting feelings, as it turns out; he's dealt with rejection before, but never when it came to relationships.

he probably should have seen the hurt he felt when you rejected him as a sign of what was coming, that being the growing obsession he can practically feel developing. you made him feel something other than smug superiority and mild annoyance. it wasn't anything pleasant, sure, but it was new. the week after that little encounter of yours, you were literally the only thing he could think about.

at first, it was a mixed bag. elijah was confused, weirdly hurt — he discovered he didn't like feeling either of those much — and angry. mostly angry. that was the only emotion he was really familiar with of those three, so he thought he would be able to use it pretty easily. he does football after all, he'd just tackle whatever poor sods that were unfortunate enough to be going up against him in practice and get it all out of his system. easy, right?

it wasn't easy.

he nearly dislocated a guy's shoulder before realizing that his usual method for dealing with his feelings — channeling them into brute force — wasn't working, which only made him more confused, which in turn only made him angrier. so used to being in control, elijah didn't know what to do with himself for the first few days.

fortunately for him and the rest of the eastview football players, his anger, hurt, and confusion subsided after maybe a week and a half, giving way to another unfamiliar, but much more welcome emotion: fascination.

you still occupied his thoughts constantly, but he finally got a break from the all-consuming contempt he felt. instead, he regarded you with intrigue, a curiosity. it was then he decided he had to learn more; you were an obstacle, a challenge. another part of the game.

he just had to figure out how to beat you.

in some strange way, elijah was excited. this was going to be hard, sure, but his mind was already hard at work, and he was sure it would eventually be rewarding.

and hey, most importantly, this was new! his rage turned to pure goddamn delight at the idea of someone who finally isn't drooling all over him. it's so fun! like a specimen for him to study, aren't you, darling? finally, he has to work for someone's favour.

once elijah comes to this... decision? realization? he gets started pretty much immediately. he knows now that the overly sugarcoated golden boy persona isn't going to work for you. he's going to need a new strategy, and he's giddy to get to work on it.

with negative hesitation, he starts stalking you. honestly, he probably starts stalking you before he actually buckles down and starts trying to win you over; at some point in the bafflement that comes with you not immediately falling for him, he just starts to follow you around from a distance, almost absent-mindedly making notes on your schedule, your friends, class mates, teachers... he decides to double down after that, though, deciding that if he's serious about beating you, he's going to have to up his game.

that's when he starts actually following you home, taking note of your family and your behavior outside of school.

the second thing he starts doing is shadowing you outside of stalking. that meaning, he starts sitting with you at lunch, making friends with your friends, switches classes to have them with you, and joins your extracurriculars; and he does so with the most smug, shit-eating grin on his face.

he starts talking to you as if you were one of his friends, and even though you knew that elijah was probably less nice than he seemed at first glance, you didn't realize just how starkly different his real personality is from the persona he puts on.

elijah starts to treat you more genuinely, in a way. he talks shit about his friends to you, bitches freely about all his classes and coaches. it's a distinction that would feel sweet, if not for the cognitive dissonance that comes with watching him be all smiles with someone right after he told you he hates them.

because here's the thing — now that elijah knows you're not fooled by the overly sweet and helpful guy he pretends to be, that his polite golden boy act won't work on you like it does with everyone else; now, he can stop pretending.

it's freeing. hell, it's almost more fun that way.

he wants to win with all of his cards out on the table. every nice, kind he does to make you like him will be colored by that tension, that dissonance, that confusion.

of course, elijah would never admit it, but slowly, as he makes friends with you, his obsession with you turns romantic. his intrigue turns to sincere care and affection. he doesn't realize it until he sees someone flirting with you — or worse, you flirting with someone — and jealousy hits him like a fucking brick.

he's left to collect himself, once again feeling hurt, angry, and confused at his own thoughts. he didn't even like you. you were supposed to be just a game, a challenge, an obstacle.

what the fuck was happening?

[the-s1lly-corner]

Ej, Lj, Masky, Hoodie, Masky, Ticci Toby and Bloody Painter x reader who draws them

Prize 5/5 for @reivelmin !! I hope you've enjoyed all of your prizes WOOHOO!! I had a blast writing them, hardly ever get the excuse to write for some of these characters EHEHEHEHE

EYELESS JACK

I've always headcanoned that Jack was always a bit of an artist himself, although the most he does it sketch every now and then to keep his kind busy. He points out some techniques he recognizes and asks you about it. It.. actually takes him a moment to realize that all of the drawings are him. You can practically hear the gears turning in his head before he tries to move on. This opens the window for the two of you to draw together every now and then.. though jack is always a little embarrassed.. flustered.. with the knowledge that you have so much of him in your book

LAUGHING JACK

Very loud when saying he loves it. Hes flipping through the pages before pausing, looking you dead in the eye. He makes a comment about how you must be soooooo obsessed with him. Hes teasing you, of course! He offers to draw you in return.. though dont expect anything crazy, Jack's not.. the best artist- and hes okay with that! Loves looking through your art whenever you offer it. Would kick his feet in the air while looking through the pages. Sometimes you give him sketches to color, to keep him busy while you have to go do something

MASKY

He already knew what you were drawing him before you ever have the chance to show him. The man is silent and is constantly keeping an eye on you.. he does NOT know how to be a normal roommate!! You probably dont get the chance to show him yourself, because he points at a stray pencil marking that you forgot to erase. Worst jumpscare of your life, if you werent already aware of his presence in the room... he.. actually gives a thumbs up. Which doesnt seem like much but considering that he doesnt really emote, that's a huge thing... now does he think it's a little odd that you have a bunch of sketches where hes the reference? A little, but he does offer some good poses and lighting due to him tending to lurk in the shadows

HOODIE

Very similar to Masky but at least he pretends to not know. You walk up to him with your sketchbook and hes so obviously playing dumb but its.. sweet that hes pretending. He takes his time looking through all of the art, where some of the others get too excited and flip through it all. He doesnt talk, but he does communicate that he thinks it all looks great via sign.. oh he would definitely start leaving sticky notes with doodles around for you to find

TICCI TOBY

I think Toby would be a little overwhelmed, he didnt think anyone would be interested in him enough to want to fill an entire sketchbook with him. He tries to cover up his shock by lightly making fun of the situation. Though every tease he tries to draw out falls flat, as everytime he goes to poke fun of something about the art he trails off. Besides, he couldn't bring himself to actually make fun of the stuff you make.. if it's a gift, you offer to take it back but he quickly shuts that down. Its like the Bob's burger friendship bracelet audio, "no fuck off its mine"

BLOODY PAINTER

As an artist himself, he asks you about what materials you used as well as the techniques you used! Unlike EJ, Helen is more thorough in his questioning and knows a lot more fancy terms.. he points out the good parts of your pieces, and catches himself before giving his criticisms.. he at least makes sure that the criticism is wanted before just unloading (and even then hes constructive! Hes well aware that just dunking on someone does nothing to help them grow). It actually strikes his ego a lot that you would dedicate so much time and material to just him, and it inspires him to make something for you in return. If he didnt know you were an artist prior to this, he offers to paint with you.. whether as a collab or just simply working parallel to one another! Just please pay no mind to him staring at you more intently while hes at his canvas...!

[prince-kallisto]

Dire Crowley SSR Card Analysis

My head is still reeling…everytime I look at this card, I feel like I’m dreaming. But now’s not the time for that, my brain settled down enough to make a some what conherent analysis, with many thanks to the people I will tag 🫡 Later on I brightened up the card a lot so we can see more of the background details!

Dire Crowley’s SRR is called “Raven Jacket,” which is rather interesting that he’s referred to as a raven instead of a crow. This card will be released alongside a new event type, the NRC Practical Magic class with Crowley. Crowley suddenly having a card must mean a similar situation to Rollo Flamme: Card voicelines, a summoned voice line, guest room chibi, groovy art, attack/battle animations, and possibly a vignette focused on him.

For Crowley, being able to use his card in battle is notable because he’s never been in battle in game before. We will gain a new insight of his weapons and magic, whether he uses void magic or an entirely new form of magic unique to him. Even if he used void magic, I can imagine him receiving unique animations, likely involved raven feathers. Perhaps his cane will be used like a magic pen, and perhaps his even sorely-missed “Lash of Love/Tough Love” whip will make a return.

I’ve also seen some funny suggestions that Crowley will end up in the lessons with the students. Perhaps this new event that will be releasing will create an entirely new stage for the teachers/staff so there won’t be duplicates of Crowley or him participating in student lessons?

This also means that Crowley will have a duo with someone, as @rahmareda-03 pointed out. The most likely candidates so far are Grim, Malleus, and Lilia- at least if we consider the current theories of Crowley being related to Levan (aka Malleus’ father) in some manner. If we take the theories out of the picture, Grim seems to be the most likely candidate, as him duoing with Crowley would be quite symbolic for his relationship with Ramshackle and Yuu, and any other possible lore Crowley has with Grim.

Malleus in particular is an interesting case. Time and time again, we have seen Malleus parallel Crowley several times in either his cards or animations, but this time, it is Crowley paralleling with Malleus with not one, but two of Malleus’ cards! @ventique18 pointed out that Crowley resembles both Malleus’s Dorm Uniform SSR and his groovied Glorious Masquerade card. But what I personally find fascinating is that Crowley’s card is essentially a combination of these two cards. Crowley is sitting on his desk, legs crossed and holding his cane in a similar manner as Malleus’ Dorm Uniform. But then the light, angle, and the chandelier is very reminiscent of the Glorious Masquerade card.

I adore how Crowley is smiling, but is looking down upon the viewer. Unlike Malleus’ Glorious Masquerade card, Crowley isn’t in a merciful pose, despite his catchphrase of being so gracious. Although he is smiling like he usually does, there is a sense of confidence and power over the viewer. His office chandelier does not cast the same warm glow, it is harsh and cold, and still obscures him in darkness. It feels like the composition was designed to have everything in his office loom over you. Here’s a picture of what his office usually looks like!

His cane also takes prominence for the first time in game, because unlike Fellow Honest, Crowley’s live 2D animations do not include his cane. But we finally have a very clear look in-game of his cane that spells “RAVEN” when mirrored

@moonlightequin1 pointed out that the windows in Crowley’s card feels very reminiscent of the cage where Maleficent’s wings were kept in the live-action film. Her wings were cut off and stolen from her, but they were still very well “alive” in the glass cages. The Diamond shapes are exactly the same as in Crowley’s card, and a strong light is coming from his window, much like the iconic shot of Maleficent’s wings in a cage.

His pose also seems to suggest this, and the window is right behind his cape. His cape is very reminiscent of wings, and in several vocielines, Crowley speaks of his “wings” as if they were a part of his anatomy. There’s some sort of wind billowing underneath his cape- perhaps he just landed into his office and landed in his desk, thus creating that image of his cape? His cape’s “feathers” are VERY prominent in this shot 👀

And if the Malleus parallels continue…there is a chance that Crowley’s groovy will have a far more “kind” aura to it. Even though I’m a huge Crowley fan haha, I’m hesitating to say that his face, or at least his eyes, will be revealed. I feel strongly that his groovy may SUGGEST to it, but I have a feeling that his face would be obscured even if he was unmasked in his card. But I do think that Crowley’s groovy will have a similar beautiful and ethereal vibe as Malleus’ Dorm Uniform groovy.

Edit: @rayroseu also pointed out that Crowley’s card is limited edition, much like the other cards for Book 7. Perhaps this is hinting at Crowley playing a role in the next Book 7 update??? 👀👀👀👀👀👀👀

There’s probably other details I missed haha, my mind is still out there…this card is absolutely incredible!! Thank you to everyone pointing out all the little details! \(//∇//)\ 💖💖💖💖💖💖🐦‍⬛

[iridescentmirrorsgenshin]

An example of queercoding in Alhaitham and Kaveh's relationship: Madam Faruzan edition

Due to the rules in place for game development in China, the possibility for queer confirmation within Genshin Impact is denied, which therefore renders the usage of characters alluding to the potential romantic connection between two same-sex characters as impossible. However, the same insinuation can be made by omitting specific language which strictly conveys romantic sentiments, such as ‘couple’. Instead, the idea of secrecy or something unmentionable can be drawn upon as indicators, as this draws parallels to the taboo of homosexuality practiced within certain cultures and media forms, which the real world audience can identify.  

For example, Alhaitham and Kaveh as secret housemates. This can be used to convey an idea of ‘taboo’ as Kaveh desires to protect his reputation by concealing his shame of having to live with Alhaitham. In-game, the context here is that Kaveh wants to uphold his reputation of a successful architect, but within Alhaitham’s Story Quest, upon the player’s discovery of Kaveh living with Alhaitham, this context is omitted for some time. This prompts Paimon to question what exactly Alhaitham and Kaveh’s relationship is, with Kaveh denying that the two used to be friends but are not anymore: “I wouldn’t say ‘friends’ exactly”.

This tactic of double entendre can be seen again in A Parade of Providence when Paimon almost reveals Kaveh’s living situation to Faruzan.

Faruzan’s can be observed to resort to a thinking pose, in comparison with Layla, when Alhaitham is mentioned in relation to Kaveh wanting to buy property, as Paimon almost ‘outs’ the truth, that Kaveh resides with Alhaitham.

She then seemingly dwells upon the subject, as she returns to it after Kaveh requests for a change of topic later in the conversation. Here, Faruzan follows up on whether Kaveh lives alone, which he fails to deny. 

Here, it can be seen that she has already began associating Kaveh and Alhaitham, possibly speculating that the two live together. When Kaveh fails to supply an answer, therefore not denying her theory, she explicitly ties the two together, and asks if the two are “hiding” something.  

This question evokes a physical reaction from Kaveh, as he denies this question out of fear of being revealed, with Paimon opting to leave in order to cover her role in revealing Kaveh’s predicament.  

A deliberate potentiality has been created here in regard to what Faruzan has inferred, as her phrasing of “are you two hiding something from me?” is non-specific. Rather than asking: “are you two living together?”, she asks a question which holds multiple connotations. Due to the ambiguity of her meaning, her question can be observed as a non-explicit version of the: “are you two a couple?” question.

On the surface, this question is a reference to their situation as roommates, however, her phrasing is non-specific, and hints to another cause for “hiding” something. For Faruzan, Kaveh’s blatant evasion of the topic and dismissal of Alhaitham’s name, could easily be inferred as “hiding” a romantic connection – which is something that the player, too, can pick up on from her gesture of suspicion, her inquisitive questioning, and her excitement when piecing together the clues. The ambiguity of her question generates multiple meanings as to why she has surmised the two could be “hiding”.  

This overt secrecy in Kaveh’s living with Alhaitham, another man, prompts the player to generate associations between this in-game secrecy and real world queer shame. In this, there is an implication of the need for Kaveh to confirm the status of his relationship between him and Alhaitham. Not only does this scene connotate an ‘outing’, in which a queer character has their queerness forcibly revealed to a heteronormative audience, but this creates a sense of secrecy, which, again, can be interpreted by the player as ‘taboo’.  

Kaveh does not want to tell anyone of his living situation out of preserving his stellar reputation, however, Faruzan is missing this context. She relates Alhaitham and Kaveh together in the phrasing “you two”, coupling them together in a secret that they “hid[e]”. The player understands this as indicating to their living situation, however, this creates a separate context which Faruzan has interpreted and that, we, as the audience are not privy to, but can interpret based on her allusions to cohabitation between two men being a secret.

Whilst this is not explicitly romantic within Genshin’s world of nameless sexuality, Faruzan’s ambiguous questioning here draws parallels between real world understanding of sexuality and the connotations of queerness which stems from two men living together in secret. 

(Update: For more analyses like this, the essay this is taken from is now uploaded! It can be accessed here and here as as a pdf <3)

[torturedblue]

There are so many fun Disaster Twins parallels I caught the last time I binged Rise

I’m mainly going to start with lines before I get into some deeper stuff in part two, but as far as I’ve seen this pair seems to have the most parallels and I love it

Both the sillies have a line about sounding naturally sarcastic: “And I know everything I say sounds sarcastic, but I’m being completely genuine… This time.”

“Oh sure, let me just load my Tap Into Every Security Camera in New York app! I’m sorry if that sounded like sarcasm it wasn’t I am in.”

They both land on Warren in his first episode 😂

These sillies in Bug Busters:

Also LOOK at these guys in their matching cutesy pajamas

Donnie teasing his brothers and hitting them with the tennis balls all smug in Smart Lair feels very Leo of him

Leo being the naysayer of the group in The Gumbus and constantly insisting there has to be some kind of logical/scientific explanation is very Donnie of him

“There has to be a simple answer. Earthquake, magnets, giant prankster mice. There’s no such thing as ghosts!” “A model train. Simple answer.” “Aha! Right? The simple answer!”

Donnie has a funny line about Dragons (and their teeth) not existing, both these moments being ironic since discovering yokai, the Hidden City and the whole mystics world makes dragons and ghosts not just possible, but proven real

Their iconic weird showing-off-clothes poses in Purple Jacket and Late Fee

These lines:

“Can’t we get new brothers?!”

“We have to go back for our brothers! Or are you gonna replace them, too?!”

“Guh-ee…”

They are also the only two characters with lines mentioning they think Splinter would’ve been cooler specifically as a tiger 😂 While I love the Eric Bauza/Tigerclaw references to ‘12, otherwise the comments are rather random other than saying tigers are cooler than rats. It made me realize how much they really do think alike. “You’re just a rat, we need a tiger.” “Yeah sure you’re a rat and it probably would’ve been cooler if you were like a tiger or something.”

More similar lines when they both break the fourth wall: “One season later and I still have full battery!” “If this isn’t the poster shot, someone’s getting fired.”

Leo’s chosen last words: “With my last breath I told you sooooo!”

Donnie’s chosen last words: “At least I shall perish knowing I was the better brother.” (a lie)

I believe they’re also the only ones to call Splinter Papa whereas Raph and Mikey use ‘Pops’ more

And last but not least, their shared aversion to Staten Island

Bottom line, the rottmnt writers practically made their twinship canon without realizing it sooo it’s pretty much undeniable now 😊

[forecast0ctopus]

Any advice on drawing McCoy? I’m not used to drawing ancient wrinkley bastards (affectionate) and it’s surprisingly tough v-v

FOR SURE lmao i made. a diagram. just a warning that i am going to be irritating and long winded because u just hit a topic i really like sorry lmao

so first off i did some traces just to show whats there vs redraws to show my interpretation

ive said this on other asks but again jsyk, tracing isnt bad!! its a tool. theres some stuff with intellectual property and whatnot but using tracing to study shapes and forms is a really valuable practice.

also just taking some time to learn facial structures and anatomy is super useful, reading what bones and muscles are where and how they interact with one another. taking this info and staring in the mirror and moving your face around and thinking about it. just really furthers understanding of how the face works. trying to sound normal about this but i love anatomy and motion and physics and whatever

anyways im going to go through all the numbered points so there's no confusion. 1. forehead lines - self explanatory. more prominent when brows are raised 2. crows feet - at the outer corners of the eyes, more prominent when smiling or squinting 3. nasolabial folds - the folds that go from the corners of the nose to the corners of the mouth. more prominent when the mouth is wide, like smiling 4. brow furrow - self explanatory, most prominent when brows are furrowed. mccoy tends to have two right next to his eyebrows, kirk has one in the middle. everyones face works different lmao 5. chin crease - caused by how the chin and lower lip interact. 6. nasojugal groove - start from the inner corners of the eye and can extent over the cheeks. everyone has these and idk why people dont like them i think theyre really cool!!!! but Society. i guess. :/ 7. eye bags - caused by the skin sagging beneath the eyes. mccoy isnt even that old in tos i think hes meant to be mid 40s by the end of the 5 year mission, hes just got really prominent eye bags lmao 8. idk what the name is for these, but when the mouth is wide and pushes the skin to the sides, these folds sometimes form outside of the nasolabial folds 9. philtrum - the groove above the upper lip. i dont usually draw this but mccoy's struck me as prominent enough that i usually draw it on him 10. masseter - the muscle that moves the jaw up and down. its a pretty rugged muscle and while i wouldnt say mccoy's is especially prominent, it kind of extends that nasojugal groove from certain angles/positions 11. orbicularis oris - mouth muscle, usually easier to see when lips are pursed or frowns are pulled. mccoy's is pretty prominent from 3/4ths or side, his mouth tends to protrude in profile 12. this isnt a muscle but more of a line defining the planes of the face, but since i drew it i felt i should explain lmao

a few points:

im an animator i tend to exaggerate and emphasize certain things so i usually make him more square.

i like to combine eyebags and crows feet for brevity/flow, same with nasojugal grooves, eyebags, and masseter lines. my approach is always subject to change based on pose, expression, reference image, etc.

i take out details that i deem redundant or cluttering and keep what details i need to make things feel Right

all this info is applicable to any character of any age, its just in how you apply it and facial proportions that willl change how old a character is perceived to be

there's a lot more with drawing a Character rather than an Actor, just because the features are there doesnt necessarily mean things will feel correct? its very much in the mannerisms and poses and expressions

i only went over my approach to his likeness but not really body type or posing or anything idk if u want that i could always try to answer that later haha

_______________

anyways all that info kind of exists nebulously in my brain while i draw its not like im sitting there thinking Must Draw. Nasolabial Fold...... i jsut do what feels right with the visual info i have. also i love specificity in faces.... i dont like to be a hater but when every character is drawn the same it pisses me off a little lmao. so

also dont take my word as The Only Way to do anything i just draw how i like to draw and no one should feel like these are things that Must be done to be a good artist or anything do whatever the hell u wanna do