#Soul's colors are so fucked up im sorry
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"Doctor, i can't tell if i'm not me!"
#IM GOING INSANE HOW DID THIS GET SO MANY LIKES#Soul's colors are so fucked up im sorry#chonnys charming chaos compendium#cccc fanart#cj soul#soul cj#cj mind#mind cj#cj heart#heart cj#artwork#art#artists on tumblr#illustration#chonny jash
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drooling, begging, scratching at your door for more loser simon content
warning: ooc Simon cus he's a loser here, cum brained Si, you're kinda a slut in this one sorry, readers gender not specified, overstimulation, sub–ish but also kinda not really Si??
Loser! Simon who was actually supposed to be a one night stand only. Hell, if it weren't for your wandering eyes catching sight of him half chubbed up in his pants you would've never agreed. You don't just go around accepting any lay that comes your way. It pays to be a careful slut, yeah? But he's eager, too eager. Back straightening at all the sudden attention he's getting from pretty lil you. And you are pretty. So pretty in fact, that Johnny caught him eyeing you from across the bar. The man playfully nudging him in the elbow, followed by a wink and a whistle. "Go get 'em, LT.." at this point Loser! Simon knew he was caught. so what was the point of hiding it any longer...?
Loser! Simon who told himself that this was only gonna lead to rejection. That he'd just end up drinking whatever he bought for this incredibly attractive stranger. Color him surprised when you actually laughed at his jokes. sneakily raking your eyes up and down his frame like a predator toying with prey. At some point you've started massaging his thigh and Simon internally beats himself up for not thinking ahead of this. You're voice is so fucking hot though, that's for sure.
He's cute, yeah. The way he acts as if you're the one asking for sex is endearing but overall pretty boring. Kicking it up a notch, you do a risky move. Unsure if it's too much and he ends up deciding to forfeit and blue ball himself tonight. Leaning in close, you whisper something filthy in his ear. Surprised at just how quickly the bulge in his pants started to grow, what caught you off guard is how he's holding on so tightly to your waist now. Cheeky. Since when did he wrap his arms around you?
And that brings us to now.
You, bent over some grimy concrete wall at the back of this shoddy ass bar. Seems he was to impatient to get to a motel or something because he's jackhammering into you without a care in the world. Or a thought at that. It's like his hips move on their own, cock spearing you so impossibly deep that you feel him bulge through your stomach. The skin stretching, struggling to keep him all in.
Loser! Simon doesn't know what he's doing with his hands, he knows he should stabilize your position so he wraps his arms around your middle. Keeping you pressed up against him and the sensation is dizzying, the way it feels like he's consumed you body and soul. He has you trapped and overstimulated without meaning too. All he knows is that you're nearly screaming with pleasure, writhin' n squirmin' all cute. Mouth hanged open and tongue lolling out. He wants to kiss you. Wants your hot mouth on his. So he presses himself a little closer, hitting a little deeper than necessary and all of a sudden his plan to steal a quick kiss like a little shit has you reeling back ang cumming your brains out. You make a mess im return, hole getting tighter and tighter until you're milking Si all of he's worth. "Shit. Shit, shit– cumming. Sorry, m' cumming, cum– Fuckk." He reaches his peak and what feels like euphoria. Flooding your hole with hot, sticky cum. And you find yourself being tipped over the edge a second time.
Loser! Simon who just pants about you, you groan at the creeping feeling of soreness in your body and Si thinks you might be feeling uncomfortable. Pulling his now soft cock out of your used hole. The breeze hitting your sensitive spots make you hiss, followed by a whimper as you feel the evidence of tonights rendezvous flow out and trickle down your thighs. Not a another second passes by before you feel the comfortable weight of a jacket being wrapped over your form. He helps you up on shaky legs and offers to take you back to his place. Looking for a round 2?
a/n: this is shitty but m' horny so eh, m' so sorry that this took so long anon 😭 trying to clear out my inbox y'all. Double upload yeyy, this was still kinda bad, still trying to get back in the zone
Yours, truly,
–Dolly
#cod x reader#cod imagine#call of duty x reader#cod x reader smut#call of duty x you#cod smut#ghost x reader#simon ghost riley x reader#simon ghost x reader#simon riley x reader#ghost x reader smut#x male reader#x gn reader#x female reader
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hihihihi im not sure if ur requests are open but i was wondering how euro would react if fem!reader used the safe word while they were fucking? like if he was being too mean or was going too hard on her?
feel free to ignore this !! love ur writing 🩷
ohhh baby he’d be the sweetest soul, you wouldn’t even know where your boyfriend went.
tl: @vanlisbon @sugarinte @culkineater @monkeyfart @444rockstargf @bambi-horror @u1trear0tic @auggiethecreator @bluemercy2 @lankysimp (pls if these are one of your blogs lmk so I can fix em for y☹️)
your heads buried in a pillow, back arched to the max while your boyfriend pounds into you from behind, not letting up his brutal, unforgiving page. he came home angry from some small gig, and while you already knew what was coming to second he stormed in, it still scared you.
you’re whimpering and crying, holding onto the sheets with dear life, squeezing your eyes shut as you take everything he gives you, allowing him to use your tiny frame for his pleasure, basically using you as a fleshlight.
“such a good fucking girl, so glad someone listens to me.” he groans, and you yelp as he pulls your head back by your hair, your teeth clamped together and sheets balled in your fists. your legs and arms shaking as he pounds into you, a feverish, bruising grip on your hip.
“how’s that? huh, slut?” he asks close to your ear, and your lips quivering as you sniffle, tears rolling down your cheeks. he takes notice, “baby? what’s the color?”
“r-red,” you sniffle, shaking your head no, “red please, p-please,” your glossy eyes meet his, and his heart skips a beat, going pale in the face. he stops all of his movements and let’s go of you, pulling out and laying you next to him, and you’re crying lightly, shaky hands covering your face as he shushes you, bringing you into your arms.
“m’sorry, I just-..was too much.” you sniffle, and he shakes his head as he holds you close to his chest. “nono baby it’s ok, you’re ok, i’m so proud of you, yknow that?” he kisses your head, “so proud of you for tellin’ me. you did so good too.” he lifts your chin to make you look at him.
“tell me what happened, sugar,” he pulls the cover over you two. you get embarrassed, “it just..I dunno it got a lot and..you were angry and the names and-..i’m sorry,” you whine, and he’s still rubbing your back.
“nono it’s ok, I shouldn’t have been so tough with you. i’m glad you said something, such a big girl, my big girl.” he kisses you softly, “we can keep going if you want, I can still-” “it’s ok baby, you wanna get in the tub, and i’ll order something?” he asks, although he’s already reaching for the phone.
you smile and agree, and he carries you to the tub as he calls in for food. :3
#rory culkin#rory culkin smut#x black reader#euronymous smut#lords of chaos#euronymous#lords of chaos smut#i wanna eat him#eurory prompt
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portrait of a blank slate. huang renjun
pairing: huang renjun x fem! reader
genre: college au. fluff, smut, and the tiniest bit of angst.
warnings: swearing, alcohol, angry man renjun, very bad dialogue, this is the most un-renjun fic i've ever written, dry humping, a heavy makeout session, unfinished blowjob
word count: 5.8k
playlist: no specific one this time but i listened to a lot of keshi while writing this, so have this playlist of mine to fit the vibes
a/n: inspired by that one tweet describing how someone's art professor met his wife the same exact way, lost the screenshot and also the og post im so sorry!
turns out all it takes to save a life is a bad, bad college party, a few shots and a weird, magical coincidence back in a girl's dorm room.
It’s hard to believe that Huang Renjun is currently finishing up the art portfolio he needs for his summer internship program after procrastinating and angrily stomping at every single bad stroke of his paintbrush for the last few months.
Because he’s not.
He’s looking at the canvas with stern eyes, the smudges on the white linen so messy he could cry just by looking at them, and the more he tries to save the disgrace currently scribbled in front of him, the worse it gets and makes the levels of frustration in him turn into rage and fury, because let’s be honest– what is Renjun’s primary emotion if not anger.
And he tries hard to fix it again, he really does– he sighs heavily while doing so as he takes a smaller brush and tries to paint on a few hairstrokes to the portrait of Frida Kahlo he wants to execute– and in honest reality, it doesn’t even look half as bad as it does in the poor boy’s eyes when he takes a step back after holding in his breath and carefully piercing together the artwork. Maybe if there was someone else in the room– everyone but his annoying roommate Donghyuck, because that fucker always manages to make things even worse– they could talk him out of it, offer some words of consolidation, even, hype him up and tell him that with outsider’s eyes, the canvas looks beautiful and very well put together. But the truth is that there’s no one present right now, not a single soul in what feels like the whole campus right now, that could ease Huang Renjun’s frustration from what seems to be art block, when he throws the paintbrush to the wall (he’ll worry about the stain of acrylic paint later, when he gains consciousness) and puts a fist through the middle of the painting.
If he was a character in a comic book, his hand would go through the canvas and create a quite satisfying hole. He’s a real person, though– a weak one as well, to be quite honest– and his fist is stopped by the stretched-out fabric, making his hand bounce back, but now stained with all shades of brown and tan, which somehow only makes him even more mad and turns him into a furious animal roaming around free and causing uttermost chaos in his all true sense.
Nothing can stop Huang Renjun when he opens the drawer he keeps all his artwork in, taking out all the graphite sketches and colored pencil drawings, and then the next one containing the watercolor paintings and various other acrylic paintings done on expensive sheets of paper, stacking all of those onto one pile in the middle of the table. Not one thing is safe– except from the digital artworks he keeps in his iPad and his big A4 sketchbook he forgot about in the heat of the moment, since he keeps it on his nightstand– when he takes the big, heavy stack of art and runs, chimes towards the entrance of his and Donghyuck’s miniature dorm room, luck only standing by his side once in this whole evening when his said roommate opens the door and clears the way for him, looking at the poor boy with mouth agape in a slight shock.
“What the fuck are you doing right n–”
Donghyuck doesn’t get an answer. When he asks stupid questions, Renjun doesn’t tend to pay him much mind, settling on not engaging with the discourse if it doesn’t make much sense, so Hyuck should be used to the ignorance– he thinks this was a very valid question to ask at this moment, though. If he was curious enough, he’d even follow his roommate down the hall and watch him in his endeavors only to find out what’s the intention behind his angry stomping and the fierce look on his face. The truth is, though, he doesn’t care all that much.
That doesn’t stop Huang Renjun, though, as he chimes down the hall of the boy’s dormitory, kicks the glass door open (thankfully not the actual glass part, because that would for sure be expensive) and practically runs the rest of the way towards the bins at the end of the street, dumping the papers into the bin (forgive him for not recycling in his current state of mind) before he angrily kicks the poor object twice for good measure and turns on his heel, slowly, but still as angrily making his way back to his dorm room by stomping all the way up until the entrance.
The dorm guard doesn’t even ask for his dorm ID like he usually does– Renjun must have been quite memorable as he ran out of the building with 5kg of artwork of various sizes in his arms– but the truth is, the man isn’t as old and he saw the boy going out just a few minutes ago, so he doesn’t think it’s necessary. Renjun would appreciate the memo, although, when he remembers that the man always asks for the dorm ID, especially on the nights out when he comes back slightly intoxicated and too disoriented to look for the little slip of paper in his pockets, and on the nights when he forgets his dorm ID as well– the man was set on letting him sleep on the front porch of the dormitory once and it took Renjun 15 calls to get ahold of a sleeping Donghyuck and another 15 of him walking down the hall in slippers and pajama bottoms with his roommate’s dorm ID in hand before he could warm his bones from the cold slowly seeping into his bones on the January night– and that whole thing makes Renjun somehow even more angry at the whole situation.
And so when he comes into his room again, Donghyuck now sitting on his bed still in his outside clothes (something Renjun hates and would murder for), and his eyes land on the damaged canvas still waiting for him in the corner of the room, he wastes no time in opening his window and throwing it down from the second floor, not really caring where it ends up or if he’s gonna get a fine for violating one of the dormitory rules– to never throw stuff out of the windows..
“Dude, what is–”
“Don’t ask.” Renjun huffs as he closes the door and peels his clothes off, taking a towel that’s still hanging from the top bunk of their bed and aims towards the bathroom door. A true tantrum can only end in a cold shower, and that’s what Renjun’s gonna do as he washes his dreams down the drain and ends up silently crying himself to sleep tonight in agony.
It’s hard to believe Huang Renjun is currently at the best college party since the days of ‘megaparties’ of Johnny Suh, the senior that’s slowly halting his party performance due to stilling in life. Renjun was dragged to Lee Jeno’s party by his roommate Donghyuck after he mourned in his bed for approximately two days before it got too much for the poor gemini, promising and honestly thinking that alcohol is truly the best solution for the poor boy’s misery. Again, it’s hard to believe Huang Renjun is currently at the best college party of the year when he listens to the loud EDM music piercing through his eardrums and he swears he catches a glimpse of a couple dry humping on the couch.
Because he’s not.
He’s at a college party, sure. He’s also getting some alcohol into his system– because why not, am I right? He’s not the one paying, and that’s always enough of a reason to drink. Is it the best college party he’s ever experienced, though? Absolutely not.
It’s quite literally the worst party he’s ever been to. The music is too loud and the whole house smells of cheap vodka, people are pushing each other around and with the amount of alcohol in his system, the whole room feels like he’s on a boat, his stomach weak and his eyes hazy. Renjun must admit Hyuck’s therapy skills are kind of paying off– because at least now he’s not thinking about the wasted opportunity of a summer scholarship and is instead looking into the eyes of his cute classmate from History class across the room– but at the same time, he’s not thinking much of anything in this moment, and the glint of your eyes is the only thing he can focus on when you get closer.
That might be a good or a bad thing– depends on how the encounter goes. There’s a fine line between the amount of alcohol that’s just perfect for Huang Renjun to get rid of his usual shyness and speak to other, much more attractive human species, and the amount of alcohol that’s just perfect for Huang Renjun to black out and puke on the floor, efficiently making it impossible for him to chat up the cute classmate he’s been eyeing the whole semester and ruining his chances of ever being seen in a good light in front of the said person ever again. He prays intensely that he hasn’t crossed the line yet when you open your mouth and speak to him in the crowded kitchen.
“Renjun!”
“Y/N!” he tries to mimic your tone, a flashy grin settling onto his face when you approach him first. You two aren’t strangers, after all– you’ve sat together in class during various exams and also accidentally bumped into each other in the cafeteria, but what were your courageous attempts in making conversation with him and efficiently trying to make him more interested in you didn’t lead to your desired goal of getting invited out by him, instead leading him to think you’re just that friendly to everyone and not just him, making the chances of him taking the next step that much slimmer. Not tonight, though– he really must have had too much to drink.
“How are you?” you ask, clearing your throat as you bump into someone and decide to shift closer to Renjun, making the boy’s breathing hitch in his throat.
“Wonderful,” he gasps, and for some reason, the response laced in irony makes an excited laugh escape your throat, and the more he listens to your bubbly giggle, the more he wishes he did music instead of fine arts, because maybe if he was competent enough, he could mimic the sound in one of his songs and replay it over and over even when you’re not around.
“That sounds very genuine,” you note, which makes the boy laugh in return, making him wonder if maybe he could have the same effect on you– if you’re smiling wider now because of the sound of his laughter, or if you’re just amused at something completely else.
It’s pathetic, really– the gloomy boy that was trailing to this party behind his roommate Donghyuck is nowhere to be seen now, instead replaced by the cheap imitation of a ray of sunshine that you brought out of him only with the magic of a few words and the few drops of alcohol on his tongue.
“Oh, trust me, it was genuine,” he teases, and you only nod to his attempt at masking his obviously saddened composure from before.
“Having a rough week?” you ask, and you sound truly interested– something Renjun hasn’t found in the tone of his roommate when he insisted on dragging him here– and maybe that’s the reason why he just shrugs and decides to come clean and be honest with you. You seem like that kind of person that wouldn’t make fun of his troubles, the kind of person that would genuinely want to help– although he’s not seeking counseling tonight, he figures he can talk a bit about his shitty mood if it means that it gets the conversation flowing.
“A rough life, actually,” he snickers before he sees you eye him with a concerned look, “just joking,” he adds before he retracks back and fixes his initial answer. “Some things didn’t work out the way I wanted them to, so I’m kind of moping around for a bit.”
You seem to feel empathetic towards the boy, nodding and pouting at his confession. “Well, I hope things get fixed for you, Jun,” you mumble, tone of voice encouraging– and maybe he could dwell at the caring nature of you a little longer, only if it wasn’t for your use of a nickname for him that just oh so sweetly rolls of your tongue and Renjun wishes he could legally change his name to the nickname so he could listen to the way it sounds forever– scratch that, to the way it sounds from your mouth forever, which means he won’t change it, just so it’s reserved for you and only you to say.
“What about you, though?” he finds himself asking in the midst of his inner screeching.
“Me? I’m great, totally fine, having the time of my life,” you emphasize, the over-the-top expression on your face making the boy burst into laughter as you wave your arms around as if to show him your surroundings. “I am a party person for sure, you know, so this is perfect,” you joke, and Renjun seems to get the memo. If he’s being honest, he’s not sure he’s ever seen you at a party before– not that he goes to many himself, which might honestly be the reason, actually– you could just be at different parties in different times that hadn’t overlaid, but by the way you’re currently tensely sipping at the alcohol in your hand, he figures you’re not too familiar with the scene of college partying.
“Who forced you to go? Was it your roommate?” Renjun remembers the girl from another one of his classes– you two were always walking around together and often got to class at the same time. Figuring out that you two lived together wasn’t as difficult, and she surely seems to be the more extroverted one.
“No, actually,” you say, eyes glimmering when he seems to remember the girl you share a room with, “to my surprise, honestly. It was another one of my friends– Na Jaemin, not sure if you know him– but the moment we got here, he disappeared and left me alone to deal with my thoughts,” you click your tongue and Renjun finds himself totally mesmerized with you– amazed with everything about you; the way you talk, the way you lean on the counter and watch him with stars in your eyes (which might just be the reflections of the kitchen lights, but don’t tell him that), the way you slightly lean into him when he cracks a joke and earns a laugh out of you…
“They always do that,” Renjun scowls, “they drag the introvert in and then force them to survive on their own…” he shakes his head in disappointment, clearly distraught over the situation.
“Exactly! But if you ask them to come with you to a picnic, or to the library, they decline the offer. So much for being good friends,” you roll your eyes. Renjun finds himself smiling, and although he must admit that as every other college student, he himself would decline an invitation to a library if anyone asked, he’s like 99% certain that if it was you uttering out the question, he wouldn’t miss a heartbeat before joyfully jogging there with you.
“Ask me next time,” he blurts out, a poor attempt at flirting, “I wouldn’t say no.”
And it seems like tonight is the night where you suddenly get the last kick of courage needed when you talk to Renjun– maybe fueled by his coy smile when he said the previous comment, maybe just acting out on pure hormones– tonight's the night where he breathlessly takes your offer, still not thinking much of it, but igniting a curious spark in his own heart nonetheless, when you scratch the back of your neck in the last residue of anxiety, scrunching your nose at him and mumbling under your nose, barely heard above the loud music resonating through the living room. “Do you wanna sneak into my dorm room, then?”
Renjun almost chokes at your question– visitors in the dormitory are only allowed until midnight and as far as he’s aware, the clock is well after 2 AM right now, and he’s a male visitor, which is even more off the bounds in the eyes of the fierce woman guarding the entrance of the girl’s dormitory building. The more he stares at you, the more you seem to translate his silence into disagreement, which you panically try to undo with even more rambling. “I- I mean, since we both kind of hate this party and I think that if I drink more, I’m going to puke all over myself, so… My room is on the ground floor, so you can just climb in, if you wanted to. My roommate went home for the weekend, so there’s no one there, and we could– I mean, we don’t have to, honestly, but it’s kinda cold out and I thought we could both use a place more silent, ‘cause I really wanna head back now, but I don’t want to stop talking to you, y’know, and I don’t know if–”
“Okay, I’m down,” Renjun nods, efficiently shutting up your rambling, and when there’s a very apparent relief flashing over your face, he finds himself smiling in endearance at your antics, going as far as ruffling a hand through your hair in whatever kick the alcohol mixed with adrenaline gave him before you have him dragging his feet out of the house, both of your feet shuffling towards the campus.
The walk isn’t long, but he finds himself enjoying it. The condensation coming out of your mouths at the chilly weather serves more to the atmosphere when the both of you giggle out at absurd jokes and gossip, your voice breaking into soft hums when you sing a song under your breath in moments of silence that somehow feel both kind of awkward, but also kind of pleasant. He drags you by your hand to the other side of the sidewalk when a car passes by and you jump in surprise, eyes wide and glossy, mouth a little agape in an open-mouthed grin when his fingers stay intertwined with yours and you adjust your purse on your other shoulder, clearing your throat before you try to nonchalantly continue on with the conversation.
“I’ll go inside now,” you announce when you get to the girl’s dormitory building, breaking apart from the eager boy and coming closer to him when you confide the secret, “I’ll turn the light on in my room when I get there, so make sure to look out for the window. I’ll help you in, don’t worry,” you smile at him, and before he has a chance to reply, you disappear behind the glass door with a pep in your step.
Renjun finds himself sighing– now is the moment when he should realistically get relief, the moment when he’s supposed to relax for at least a second and prepare himself for whatever might happen in your dorm room– but when he slowly walks over to the left wing of the building and squints at the dark squares of windows, he wonders how in the hell he’s gonna climb in. Escaping out will be an easy task– the windows aren’t that high up– but coming in will be the problem. He guesses it’s the same with the whole situation– he bets the easiest part of the whole evening will be jumping out and running to his own room– how to survive the night in your presence and not go completely insane, he doesn’t know and wishes he had a manual to before he agreed to do this in the first place.
When the light goes on in one of the rooms and you wave at him from the inside, he finds himself involuntarily jogging towards the window, gears in his brain turning faster than the speed of light when he reaches the wall and you grin at him, opening the window and offering him your hand.
“If you grip the edge of the window and give me your hand, you can get in easily,” you say, watching as the boy cautiously looks around himself and scratches the back of his neck, mentally calculating his next movements.
“Have you done this before?”
“No,” you bashfully shake your head, “but my roommate did it twice, so I don’t think it’s that hard,” you note and nod at him, waiting for him to finally take action.
Renjun finds himself doing what he’s been told– and even though he huffs and almost falls over to his back (which would kill him, he thinks, since his physique is very close to a turtle’s), victory fills his veins when one of his legs finally ends up in your window, his body stumbling forward and almost toppling you over when the warmth of your room welcomes him as he lands on top of your desk.
“Welcome,” you laugh at him when he shakes his head in disbelief and takes off his coat, dropping it on top of the wooden table and watching you close the window behind him, so the cold doesn’t get in.
“That’s one way of inviting guests over, I guess,” he teases you, watching as you roll your eyes at him and go over to one of the beds. Renjun notices the room is different to the one he shares with Donghyuck– you and your roommate have two beds instead of a bunk one, the table is right under the window and you get a little more space over-all. You turn on the little lamp kept on your bedside table, and the boy watches you with interest as you cautiously walk around your own room as if it’s your first time seeing it, reminding him a little of a deer in the headlights, clueless and suddenly out of ideas.
Renjun finds himself laughing at your behavior– he finds himself endeared by it, the way you play with your fingers in nerves and try to think of anything to do in the intimacy that suddenly envelopes you when you invite someone over to your dorm room in the middle of the night– and when you aimlessly end up standing in front of him, your big eyes even bigger and glossier than before, he snickers at the state of you and shakes his head.
“Okay, so I know I was the one who invited you over, but now I’m kind of helpless in what we should actually do and all…” you giggle, a little embarrassed when you bear your eyes into his, your body subconsciously slotted in between his legs, his position leaning on the edge of the table allowing you and inviting you to do so.
“You’re cute,” he laughs at you, and before you have a chance to question him about the compliment, he has you silenced abruptly by his next actions.
“What do you–”
His hand is gripping your jaw and he leans into you, the newly found courage and affection towards you having him drunk on more than the alcohol, but also your whole presence– the way your hair smells when he’s this close to you, the way you pull the sleeves of your sweater further down when you don’t know what to do with your hands, the shyness in your gaze now that you have him in your cage– and his lips act on themselves when they press themselves against yours, soft but firm, tasting the strawberry juice mixed with vodka off your mouth, a surprised gasp against his lips more than enough to invite him even further in.
He feels your fingers tugging at his shirt and your skin growing hot under his touch, leaning back from you a little and finding you looking at him with a thousand different galaxies in your eyes, enough of a confirmation to him, but he’s a man– he still needs it vocally, when he grins lazily at you. “Was this one of the things you thought about when you invited me over?”
“Maybe…” you tug at your bottom lip with your teeth, a clearly battled grin trying to settle its way onto your lips.
“You should’ve just said so, then,” he smiles when he leans into you again, a little more confidently this time and kisses you again, again and again.
You stay under the window for a while, lips pressed hard against each other as you try to learn the curves of each other’s mouths by memory, lazy hands threaded into his hair and an arm around your waist now, steadying you in place. Foreheads pressed against each other when you break away for air, giggles resonating through the room when his lips make their way towards your neck and the softness of his hair tickles your skin, fingers threaded when you tug him towards your bed and you watch him kick his shoes off before you follow him onto the soft mattress.
His head falls into your pillow and you straddle his lap, your hair falling into your face when you look down at him from your position, the newly found dominance in your position charging you with unexplainable energy, and Renjun can’t help but smile at you sweetly when your eyes meet and you eagerly lean down towards him, fingers once again intertwined with his, hands laying next to his head. Your breath fans his swollen lips that you once again find yourself attacking, the contact overwhelming you and making it hard to breathe. Who knows how long the both of you have wanted to do this but never had the courage to– it’s a miracle that it’s even happening tonight.
And with the built-up desire, you act instinctively– hands breaking away from his when you grip his cheeks and give him one last peck, lips now traveling down his jaw and neck instead, having the boy shivering under the contact, your actions slowly but surely driving him crazy when you find his sweet spot and you get a satisfied gasp from him, a reward for your tonight’s efforts.
His hand grips your hip, and something about the burn of his fingers even through the fabric of your jeans makes you move on instinct, earning yourself a sharper hiss this time that doesn’t make you stop, however– quite the opposite, actually– as you break into a wide grin at the very evident effect you have on him, your movements slow and painful, but still having him harden under you.
Goosebumps appear all over your skin when his cold fingers capture the skin of your stomach when he aimlessly tries to find a place in your body to ground yourself, but the more he answers to your movements, the more encouraged you get. He tugs you back down so you’re facing him, which does nothing to halt your painful pace as he drags out yet another kiss from you.
“If we don’t stop now, it’s gonna be really hard for me to do so later,” Renjun huffs into your ear, which only gets you more excited.
“Who said I want to stop?” you ask him, fingers trailing up his side over his shirt, yet still making him fire up and flush in his cheeks. “Do you want to stop?”
“Do I look like I wanna stop?” he snickers, shaking his head in utter disbelief, hand traveling dangerously close to the cup of your breast.
“Let’s continue, then,” you muse, peeling yourself off him only the slightest amount, hands dragging themselves down his body until you reach the waistband of his pants, gently dragging the fabric down until he’s left in front of you only with a tent in his underwear, big eyes curiously and breathlessly watching you in your actions. He could be a gentleman and tell you you don’t have to, tell you to stop and come back up and that he will pleasure you first, but the more he watches you as you palm him over the thin fabric of his boxer briefs with the dangerous doe eyes of yours, the less he wants to do just that. In all reality– who is he to deny a blowjob from you? Or anyone, for that matter?
His whole body shudders under your touch, actions careful, but so painfully satisfying. Renjun watches your face with his bottom lip trapped between his teeth, the reality of it all sobering him up and making him aware of each shift of your body, each centimeter your fingertip travels against his skin, each motion that slowly makes a bundle of nerves appear in his stomach. It only gets too much for him when you lean on your elbows, nails gently pricking the skin of his thighs as your mouth hesitantly greets his dick, and he feels like a virgin again when his eyes peel off you just in case he finishes just by watching you blowing him off like a highschooler at his first blowjob, forcing himself to watch the ceiling instead.
Eyes traveling all over your room– the closed window opposite of him, the bed on the other side of the room, the walls above your bed– he gets lost in the galaxy drawn on a piece of paper that’s plastered right above your pillowcase, and another graphite sketch of eyes bearing right into your soul, as if they were watching him in the act, and another one, of a deer that looks through the shade of the trees, before it hits him.
“Oh my god what the fuck–” he gasps, and his tone must have sounded too different to the satisfied moans that have been spilling out of his mouth up until now, because you abruptly stop your movements and your gazes lock, your eyes completely mortified.
“Am I doing something wrong?”
“Oh– Oh god no, fuck, you’re doing amazing, trust me,” apologies spill off his tongue at your distressed state, “it’s just– where… where did you get these?” he asks, pointing towards all the drawings taped all over your walls that he failed to notice in the heat of the moment before.
“Oh,” you cluelessly hum, eyebrows furrowed, “I found them spilling out of a trashcan close to the boy’s dorms when I was walking to class one morning, and they were so pretty I had to take them.”
“I– you like these?” Renjun asks, full of strange surprise and genuine curiosity. You’re now sitting back on your heels and looking at the boy with big eyes, still slightly clueless and very much in a weird state of distress– because why would a man ask you about the random artwork on your wall in the middle of a mindblowing blowjob?– before you nod with a slight pout, agreeing.
“Well, I wouldn’t have decorated my room with them if I didn’t like them, y’know… Why are you… why are you asking?”
“Oh,” Renjun repeats again, a dumbfounded look taking over his soft features before he sits up on the bed and scoots closer to you, a weird sense of euphoria spilling out every vein of his body when the held-back dopamine is released into his system. A wide grin appears on his lips before he stares into your eyes with a milky way mirroring behind his eyeballs, glittering orbs haphazardly gliding over your face before he reaches your lips again, pecking them one, two, three times before you break away and look at him with furrowed eyebrows, a slight crease right in between them.
“What are you–”
“I think I’m gonna literally cum just at hearing those words, Y/N,” he blurbs out before he kisses the tip of your nose again, completely endeared and close to a happy boy under the Christmas tree, and while you may enjoy that look on him, you’re still slightly confused. Huang Renjun sighs almost a little too dreamingly and smooths the wrinkle between your eyebrows with a careful swipe of his thumb, still not giving you any explanation.
“Renjun, I’m afraid I’m not quite following why this is so important to you right now,” you mumble, having your partner laugh airly– just as if all his worries escaped through the window and you fixed his life with a few drawings plastered on your wall.
“Those, dear Y/N,” he points towards the papers stuck to your walls, eyeing the specific one he worked for 3 hours on and kind of mourned the morning after he realized he threw it away, months of practice and art that maybe wasn’t even that bad in the first place ending up in the trash because of a fit of rage, “are all mine. Mine as in, I drew them… And then threw them out in the middle of a slight mental breakdown.”
You look at him for a few heartbeats, eye contact never breaking before you avert your gaze towards the artwork on the walls– it takes you a few seconds before it hits you– and you gasp, hurriedly looking back at the artist in front of you, stars glimmering in your eyes now as well, matching his excitement. “Oh my god, are you for real?”
“Yeah.”
“You drew all of these?”
“Yeah,” he nods again, breathless.
“This is an insane coincidence,” you snicker, and Renjun didn’t know he had it in him– maybe it’s still the effect of alcohol that slips off his tongue when he speaks– but he cages you in his arms as he kisses you again, a whole new world appearing in front of him when the cheesiness meets the comfort of your walls.
“You’d call this a coincidence?” he hums. “Maybe it was fate.”
Earning himself a sharp laugh, almost mocking him as you swat his shoulder, you fall back with him towards the mattress, and while the heated moment might be gone, you don’t mind at all. Renjun looks at you with a certain softness in his eyes, a pride swelling in his chest, and for a moment, it’s true and you truly did open up a new reality for him and changed his life forever, fixed all of his problems, if you will, because the appreciation it takes for a girl to tape up at least 20 of his messy artworks onto her wall after finding the stash in the trashcan on her way to class might just be the encouragement he needed to keep going with the craft.
It’s hard to believe that this shitty party actually brought him somewhere– not only to your bed, but also to your life, to a beginning of something new and a restart in something he thought he’d forever be giving up on.
“So… Do you need those back? Because I kinda like them here,” you giggle, and the crinkle of his eyes is enough of an answer to you.
“You can keep them. I’ll just draw new ones you can look at,” he muses, stealing another kiss from you and squeezing your hip, having you squeal against his mouth.
“Now, to get back to what we were doing before–”
#nct#nct dream#renjun#renjun x reader#renjun fluff#renjun smut#renjun scenario#renjun fic#renjun drabble#nct dream scenario#nct dream reaction#nct dream smut#nct dream x reader#nct dream imagine#renjun imagine
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Hi!! I loved your Tav/Astarion fic where they draw his face, it was so good and tender ; ; could i request something sweet where Astarion does something selfless for Tav? presumably after the graveyard scene in Act 3 where he's finally free to be himself! thank you!
Thank you sm im glad you enjoyed my other fic! 🌸🤍 And thank you sm for sending a request! Took me a little while to figure out what i wanted to do, but I hope this fits the theme!
Fluff/Angst/Gender-Neutral Tav
Astarion taking care of a sick Tav post-canon.
🌸
It has been a very long time since Astarion has cared for another living soul outside of his own.
What would he have done with compassion during those two centuries of torture? What good would it do him, to find himself caring, to find a morsel of kindness in his rotting soul? It would not have allowed him to escape Cazador, it would not have stopped the ache in his bones, the gnawing pain that ate away at his un-beating heart. Any softness inside of him quickly died with his screams of agony—or perhaps it had died the moment his heart stopped and his throat was ripped out, a corpse left to bleed out into the unforgiving dirt.
Astarion had woken up in his own grave, choking on congealed blood and forced to climb out through the dirt until his nails had fallen off. When he found Cazador there waiting for him, he knew that his life had ended a second time.
All he had was himself—trapped in his own body as he was, barely scraps of a person, skin and flesh that was named but left vacant.
He did not care for his supposed siblings. There was no point in feeling a thing for the poor, pitiful creatures that were just as trapped as he was. Unwilling perpetrators in his torture, but perpetrators nonetheless—sorry sacks of flesh that were just as fucked as he was. He thought—knew, for a long time, that none of them were going to make it out of this.
They were going to die here, enslaved and starving and empty, or tortured for the rest of eternity.
It was death that Astarion yearned for most after so long, when freedom seemed like the dreams of someone far younger and more naive than he was. It was barely a decade before he gave up, before he knew there was no point anymore. His body had been twisted, changed, and something wicked and burning pulsed through his veins—like the thick sludge of tar, like the foul stench of sewer water and waste.
Whoever Astarion was before—they were long gone now.
There was nothing left, no family, no friends, no lovers that lasted longer than a night. Perhaps he had a mother, perhaps not. He couldn’t remember after long enough, drowning in a cloud of pain, his mind swimming, thoughts and memories sliding out of his hands like water. Flashes of soft hands, of a motherly voice and the hum of a gentle melody to greet him at the deepest recesses of his mind. Maybe he had just come up with such a thing for comfort, he doesn’t know.
Days would pass in episodes of complete dissociation, his mind so utterly disconnected from his own body, eyes only catching flickers of lights and colors before he retreated again. His body would move and he would not know why, he would hear voices and he could never make them out, his mouth would move with noise that he could not hear.
Cazador hated it most—when Astarion was too gone to feel it.
“My sweet Astarion. Where have you gone, boy?”
Astarion was not sweet—his flesh felt putrid, like the peeling of rotten fruit, like he were flayed open and bare for picking. His mouth tasted like the blood of rodents and maggots, or the spit and release of another body he could not remember the face of. He felt like a retched thing, his blood poisonous and his mind infested, a disgusting thing that Cazador owned—a kept thing that did not remember what it felt like to be alive.
Other times, Astarion felt everything in bright, startling clarity. Every starburst of pain, every touch, every drop of his own blood spilling onto the floor. Cazador loved it when he screamed, when he was brought to pathetic tears, too broken to scramble for a semblance of dignity—but never so pitiful as to bother with begging. It would have done nothing, would have granted him no mercy, and would have only served to please Cazador’s sadistic whims. It was a lesson he had learned early, that he held no power, no control. What was done to his body was done, and there was nothing he could do to stop it.
Inescapable—pressing over his skin like a sticky film, keeping him trapped, keeping him present when all he wanted to do was slip away. It was a cycle, unending, and it went on for over two bloody centuries.
Any remnants left of Astarion’s heart had been carved out and eagerly feasted upon before his own eyes. He believed that he was never going to get it back, that he wouldn’t even want it, should it be offered. He had no use for it now, had no use for more weakness, more pain.
And then he finally tasted freedom again—and then there was Tav.
After two centuries of pure shit, of torture and existing as the barest sliver of a person, Astarion began to remember what it felt like to care.
It was fucking terrifying. It was exhilarating, gratifying, like waking anew. Astarion hasn’t even felt alive in the past two-hundred years, and now he feels like he’s been washed clean and left a different person. Hopefully for the better, this time around, and so much of it is due to Tav and their persistence. They helped him wipe Cazador’s sorry face off the planet, and stayed at his side every step away, patient and kind when Astarion didn’t deserve a bit of it.
He cares about them, even when he had thought he’d forgotten how to, and he can’t help but be grateful for even having the chance to try.
And right now—Tav is sick.
They’ve barely left their bed in two days now, curled under thick furs and shivering, little more than a head that peaks out from under their cocoon. They only leave to piss or puke their guts out, before crawling back under the comforters and passing out.
It isn’t fatal, and it will pass within the coming week, even with the discomfort and pain. Tav is resilient and tough, has been through far too much to be taken by simple illness. Astarion knows that they’ll make it out of this just fine, that they’ll be back on their feet soon. They don’t need a bedside nurse, and surely not in the form of Astarion of all people—but.
He’s cradling a bowl of soup in his hands. Its heat is stark against the natural frigidness of his skin, and the chicken broth makes his stomach turn, food that would expel itself immediately should Astarion venture for a taste. But the soup is for Tav, prepared to the best of Astarion’s ability, and surely edible. He hopes.
He places it on Tav’s bedside table, perching himself delicately on the edge of the bed.
“You haven’t eaten anything today, darling.” He says quietly, his hand brushing gently over Tav’s shivering shoulder. It’s nearly noon now, but the room is bathed in pitch black to protect Astarion from the sun’s rays. He misses the warmth of it, now that he is unable to traverse under its watchful eye—but he dispels the thoughts quickly lest it sour his mood.
Tav makes a small noise, turning over to face Astarion, blinking up at him blearily. Their eyes are glassy, their face tacky with sweat, lashes fluttering as they try focus.
“Huh?” They mumble dumbly, tongue thick in their mouth, a hitch catching in their throat that’s immediately followed by wracking coughs.
Astarion winces, placing a hand on their forehead and almost flinching away at the temperature, “You’re nearly scorching, dear.”
Tav blinks, their brows furrowing, “Thank you.”
Astarion resists the urge to allow his head to sink down into his hands.
He only huffs instead, “Come now, I need you sitting up for this. If you spill all this soup on yourself after I spent so much time preparing it, I’ll be very—upset with you.” The words are stilted, far softer than the terse tone he was going for. True, genuine threats used to slip off his tongue so easily, even in regards to Tav—if he was pissed off enough. Now, he just sounds like a doting hen—a loving husband, maybe.
But Tav looks nearly worried, though moving easily with Astarion’s urging hands, propped up against the headboard, cushioned with pillows.
“Aren’t you hungry?” Tav asks suddenly, their hand wrapping around one of Astarion’s wrists. They hold him there, a feverish looks in their eyes. “You—you haven’t fed in a while.” They pout, tugging at their shirt collar, as if they were preparing to bare their neck right then and there.
There’s something that twists behind Astarion’s ribs—tight and heart-shaped.
He pushes Tav’s shirt back up, lingering briefly over the warmth of their skin, “You’re sick, darling. I’m not feeding off of you when you’re like this. I shan’t starve without you, I promise.” He says lightly, taking the cooling bowl of soup in his hands, ignoring the violent churn of his gut. Tav looks nearly teary-eyed when he turns back to them, their lips twisted in discomfort, their gaze burning with fever. Astarion sighs quietly, taking the side of their face in one palm, silently delighted when they sink in to the gentle touch.
“Come now, don’t look so sad. How about this—I—I’ll feed you this time, hm?” His thumb traces over their cheekbone, “You needn’t be the one looking after me.”
Tav sniffles, “I like taking care of you.”
Astarion takes a measured breath, trying not to stare blankly at such a bold-faced admission. He thinks Tav may come closer to killing him than Cazador ever did.
“Yes, yes, I know dear. Now eat, and once you’re all better, you can be your perfect, doting self again.” He pulls his hand away reluctantly, but the warmth of Tav’s skin stays pressed into his palm.
But Tav seems to hum happily at the thought, gratefully accepting the spoonful of soup that Astarion brings to their lips. They make no obvious face of disgust, so Astarion decides that it truly is edible. That, or they’re too delirious from fever to even notice—but they eat the whole bowl regardless. They can barely keep their eyes open by the time its empty, their chest rising and dropping with slow, deep breaths.
“Lets lay you back down before you pass out. You’ll whine about the crick in your neck if you fall asleep like this.” Astarion tells them, bullying them back under the covers as they groan sadly, looking far too small and breakable against the large mattress.
“I feel awful.”
Astarion swallows, gently brushing his knuckles over their forehead. “You’ll get better soon, love. You needn’t worry.” The words sound as if they were meant more for him, a strange tightness in his throat.
He knows that they will be fine, he knows that. They’ve both been through worse. And yet—
He leans down, lips brushing over their forehead, far too hot and sweaty. He lingers for a moment longer anyways, listening to the soft murmur of contentment that leaves Tav’s mouth.
“I love you.” They mutter drowsily, their eyes flickering open for just a moment before they slip closed again.
Astarion breathes out, weak and shuddering.
“I love you too, darling. Now sleep, I’ll be back soon enough.”
🌸
Thank you sm for reading! If you wish to send me Astarion-flavored requests for fic or headcanons, they’re still open! ☺️🤍
#my fanfiction#astarion#baldurs gate tav#baldurs gate 3#bg3 tav#bg3 astarion#baldur’s gate 3#astarion x tav#ask me
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hazbin hotel redesign part 2/?? (since i felt creative and the last one was received okay! lore below :3)
BACKGROUND: husk was a gambling addict when he was alive, surrounding himself with "hang in there" posters whenever situations got tough and being able to sneakily cheat in solitaire (which is why hes a cat lolzies)
-now in hell, he made a living by becoming an overlord of the pride ring's casino motel, but then met alastor. the two got along, but its clearly toxic from how alastor treats the poor guy. husk stays by the radio demon's side nonetheless, the two becoming really bad business partners and 'friends'. (his soul isnt owned hurrah)
-alastor drags him and nifty to the happy hotel, run by the dynamis angel charlie morningstar. he decides to roll with it, becoming an overlord sponsor and the hotel's bartender. 👍
DESIGN CHOICES: i wanted husk to look more like a bartender and a gambler, changing his attire and giving him an actual shirt :3
-his design originally wasnt that bad (surprise it wasn't made entirely by vivzie), but i felt like it was a little too cluttered and bland at the same time
-i feel like he shouldn't be so skinny, considering he's supposed to be an alcoholic who loves cheap booze, so i fattened him up a bit :3
-his claw is supposed to act as a cork screw since he works at the hotel bar
-i removed his wings, i just felt like they didnt fit his design or theme well (sorry wing lovers -made his color palette less red, adding in some gold n green
-FUCK THE TOPHAT BRO LET HIS HAIR BREATHE
-i didn't give him shoes despite him being an overlord n all, but its due to cats sweating through their feet and using their paws as a stealth advantage!!
CONCEPT SO FAR: -so, charlie goes to the seraphim and blabbers out her ideas, faithful in heaven being accepting and fully siding with her dream. but, approval's iffy, and it takes a while before heaven decides to go along with it (albeit they shit on her constantly for it). sent down with keekee, now her trusty book of sinner backgrounds and hotel embodiment/key, she gets to work on advertising her happy hotel!!!
-first to arrive to the hotel is vedika (my vaggie rename), a fallen angel with the intent of guarding charlie and providing for the hotel itself. (not revealing she was an exterminator, and now these lesbians get SLOW BURN)
-as they advertise, the infamous radio demon finds the idea of an angel wanting to redeem SINNERS entertaining, so he shows up and drags along husker and nifty to help around. (hes more evil here, me and my homies HATE alastor)
-then they find a demon to bring along as the example/star of the redemption idea, angel dust (now more related to his mafia background, no more porn jokes guys11!!), and attempting to get him clean so heaven doesnt make fun of charlie as much
feel free to critique me! im not the brightest in character design, so it'd be helpful to get any tips and tricks with my design! be nice tho, im just a gyal might do another 😋(is it obvious i had a warrior cats phase)
#my art#tardlard design#hazbin critical#hazbin hotel#hazbin hotel husk#anti spindlehorse#anti vivziepop#i dont support vivziepop#character redesign#rewrite#rough draft#they did him so dirty#drunk cat :3#illustration#i am so tired#hazbin hotel critical#hazbin hotel criticism#hazbin hotel critique#vivzie critical
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Presence — Dick Grayson
m! reader — 1k words — this is angsty kind of romantic but my definition of romantic is incredibly edgy and depressing i am so sorry — IM SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG IVE BEEN SO FUCKING BUSY MAN💔💔
for @ickyickyeik 😿💪
He's human. I think he forgets that frequently. How he can't heal faster than normal, how he can break just like I can. The only thing keeping him from death is skill and a whole lot of luck. Luck that will eventually run out.
The blood that spilled over the marble table I had laid him on felt so much darker than red. So much deeper than crimson. There wasn't a word for the life that seeped from his wounds. Not a way to describe how I felt watching the color drain from his face. To say I didn't know what I was doing would be a lie. I knew how to cauterize. To stitch. To save. Yet the shake in my hands was a reminder of the man dying beneath me. The one patient I couldn't allow myself to lose. A man I promised my life to. Who my soul yearned for.
I've lost time like this. Saving him. Hours blur together as if they hadn't happened at all— one moment my lover is dying beneath me, and within the blink of an eye I find myself standing in front of my bathroom mirror coated in his blood. I could feel the way it had dried and cracked along the creases of my hands. It didn't take much thought for me to turn the shower on and walk into it. Hot water soaked through my bloodied clothes, adding a comforting weight against my body as I watched how the water poured off of me in an orange haze. I knew that this wasn't making me clean. It wasn't freeing me of the proof I had to cut my lover open. But something about the way his blood slid off of me felt reassuring. Like I could see that slowly, surely, I was becoming pure again.
My hands moved on their own. Taking my clothes off, wringing them out and tossing them aside, washing away what remained of tonight's trauma. I felt like an observer of myself. As if I wasn't the one doing these things. My body seemed to take care of me when my mind couldn't. Drying my hair, getting me dressed, walking me passed the crime scene in the kitchen and to Dick, who lay passed out on the couch and blissfully unaware of the twenty four wounds I somehow managed to stitch successfully with what limited supplies I had. I dropped to my knees beside him. The weight of the situation finally seeming to crush me. He could've died. He almost did.
"Hey," Dick's strained voice pulled me back to earth for a moment. As I looked up at him, he wiped a tear away from my cheek and pulled me closer. "I'm so sorry, honey," Nothing more than a whisper. I said nothing in return. I forgave him, but at the same time I couldn't. This is what he had to do, and this is what I had to do in return. Forced to be a hero's savior. Despite everything he has done for me. Despite my love for him. I resented Dick at times like these. Where we were both at our lowest for the same reason. And maybe it was selfish of me, to be upset at him for something like this when he teeters the brink of death for the sake of Blüdhaven. But I couldn't help how I felt just as much as he couldn't help being hurt. "Say something," He begged.
"No more of this...." I knew this wasn't what he wanted to hear me say. But it's what he needed to. And to my surprise, he didn't try to justify what I had to see tonight. He didn't tell me he had no choice. He didn't say anything about responsibility. I left him to himself for a while, walking to the bedroom and grabbing whatever blankets and pillows I could and moving back to the couch.
"Don't sleep on the floor...." His hand reaching for me, in search of my forgiveness. I didn't give it to him. I backed away just slightly while putting the blankets down, giving myself some type of padding for the very light nap I'd be getting tonight.
"I have to make sure you don't die." Curt was my response. The wedge I had placed between us was hurting him more than his wounds were. I could see the tears that he fought from spilling. This wasn't what he needed. I knew that. My grudge wasn't against him. it was with the people who threatened to take him away from me. My hand making its way to his, which was still outstretched. “I'm gonna lose you like this one day.” My voice was quiet. He needed to know I wasn't upset. If only god hadn't been so cruel. If only we had been in a different time. A different city.
“I think I'm done for a while.” My heart jumped at the thought of this. I knew it wouldn't be forever. I knew that. But the thought of not having to fight with him to let his wounds heal was so relieving.
My night was restless. Waking up to the slightest movement, the smallest grunt or groan. Checking his temperature every few hours, honing my ears to listen only to his breathing. Antibiotics weren't an issue because of Bruce, I still had a fair amount of supplies from the last time I had to play doctor— but I needed to be prepared for absolutely anything in these first few days. Dick stirred while I ruminated in my thoughts. “Lay with me,” He whispered. I knew just by the grovel in his voice that he wasn't completely lucid, but the hand he outstretched was hard to ignore.
I reclined the seats of the couch to give myself more space and gingerly placed myself beside him. Sleep didn't take long to surround me. I was exhausted, and the comfort laying beside him sent me into a haze. There was something so beautiful about loving him. Something so comforting about his presence. I couldn't lose that... I couldn't give it up to save my heart, either. All I could do was savor it while I had it.
THIS WAS SO SHORT IM SO SORRY I DIDNT WANT YOU TO THINK I FORGOT IM SORRY ITS NOT EXACTLY WHAT YOU ASKED FOR I HOPE YOU LIKE IT ANYWAYS 😭💔
#nightwing#dick grayson x male reader#dick grayson x you#dick grayson x reader#dick grayson#nightwing x you#nightwing x male reader#nightwing x reader#batman x male reader#surgeon! male reader#ao3#fanfiction#dc x male reader#x male reader#x reader
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hey guys. Do u even care about what I have to say. Thats right baby. It’s a mini rant. Young Garmadon edition and the horrors of white boy Star Wars core.
Okay so. Erm.? I don’t like garmadons child design in the show. This guy is way too twink coded as a young adult for me and that’s wrong. He’s a beast. And also))??? Lots of paragraphs on Wu depression. Thats the synopsis now look below for further horro r
Hello??? Dang man tatooine is calling ???? IM. SORRY THAT WAS MEAN. I’ve always felt like the spinjitzu bro books did a better job with his design, but brunette just isn’t it. Black hair. Right now. Make it naturally white but also make him fucjing stupid so he dyes it with Ink because he doesn’t want whit4 hair cause he’s DUMB.
Look alive. Make him wear a ponytail and give him the black dyed hair COWARDS.
Anyways that parts over. Now I’m going to talk about my issues with how people draw him in his human form a lot.
I feel like the twinkification is real. All human designs I’ve found of Garmadon that don’t use legos ambiguous yellow color are pasty white and this madness must STOP!!! I think if u wanna make him a cracker it’s ok. It’s fine. But it is a little boring seeing the same designs scatter my Garmadon picture wall(/J I DONT HABE THA)
‘And also while I’m at it, I’m gonna be real and say that any design for wu in the series is pretty good. Still mad he looks like a normal guy. TBH. Many fan designs give him more dragon like traits, and I think that’s so cool, but I’ve always had a specific idea I’ve never seen executed personally. I think Wu would chop his horns off if he had them permanently out.
Wu clearly isn’t a fan of just showing off his dragon or Oni traits. He straight up doesn’t do it, even as a kid (he should honestly be shown with those traits cause he really doesn’t give a fuck as a child) and I believe that his tormented old man position (see the many drawings and tweets from the shows authors and writers) he wouldn’t exactly be drawn to having his traits on display. The completely reasonable solution? Scar himself permanently by wacking them off with a blade. Sounds like something he’d do in young adult hood. His horns being out insinuates he can’t just shapeshift to make them go away, so erm!! Pretty smart solution ngl!!!
‘’Now it’s time for Wu trauma oooooooo!!!!! Oh my god part of his soul is GONE????
In one of the spinjitzu bro books Wus soul is forced into a little puppet. At the end of the book, the puppet is still alive and moving. When the ninja ask to see a puppet show before Wu recounts this, he has a physical reaction.
so. Wu is having a great time. Also, in one of the comics (forgot the name and I can’t for the LIFE OF ME remember where I read this) he confronts. Basically the embodiment of his fears. Basically he doesn’t want to become like his SHIT father who is literally god. leave him ALONE.
So. Uhm. In conclusion. Whirlwind (wus canon nickname) and Softie (Garmadons canon nickname) need to get their shit together <33333333
#ninjago#lego ninjago#my rants#rant post#wu ninjago#ninjago garmadon#lord garmadon#young garmadon#very specific tag but ok#who made that#young wu#THERES ANOTHER???
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SVT & Brands I would love them to work with // VU
I talk so much crap about fashion on here and i have been asked by a few people to pair them up with designers I think they would be good with or I would love to see them work with. 🤧
Doing this in units because tumblr wont let me post more than 30 images at a time.... and for once, 13 men in one group actually seems like a lot.
disclaimer: this is based on the runways of the brands in the past 2-4 years (some brands will go as far back as 4 years mostly bc i love them sm... some are two years bc i didn't like their creative directors until recent).
also i h@t3 k3nz0 but hearing how vernon talks about the brand im choosing to accept his soul binding contract with them.
this is also based on if they were to actually have a similar contract like vernon does with kenzo with these brands. meaning they would wear these brands 90% of the time not just for brand events (which is most likely rare bc of how crazy expensive and limiting it is. but just entertain my ideas for this one time)
JEONGHAN – YSL
I'm sorry. I genuinely think that Jeonghan and YSL partnership is godsend. I know some hate YSL for taking away the ~aegyo~ and color from Jeonghan but we have to admit HOW FUCKING GOOD he looks in YSL.
They're just so good at picking the right ambassadors when it comes to fitting their look.... (Mark, Ten, Jeonghan - they all have the same body which mirrors the models they cast and wow 🤌🏼🤌🏼🤌🏼)
(so funny, when i was gathering pics for this jeonghan was literally in every single one of the pic from the recent show lskdfjlsdkjf)
JOSHUA – Dolce & Gabbana
Listen.... I know this may seem like another Jeonghan where the ~color~ and ~aegyo~ is taken away from him. But Shua's taste is already so 🤌🏼 and just think of his body proportions in all these.....
He would look sooooo sooo good in the recent D&G RTW.... I can feel it in my BONES
WOOZI – Hermes
Our rich black card holder king deserves the brand that all the rich hot bitches are fighting tooth and nail to get their hands on.
Like lbr here...... he COULD get a birkin if he wanted.
Anyways I think Woozi is a simple person, he said it himself. And when it comes to fashion I honestly think he would stay close to a brand that match his vibe well. Clean, simple, polished..... smells of money....
That being said, I think Hermes is able to make a statement without being loud.
.... so Woozi...
DOKYEOM – Valentino
This one is just purely for me.
Bally is a good match for him, if they stay close to how he was styled in the recent FW and not the one prior to it.
I think I want to see him in a style more.... close to the silhouettes he wears and is styled in which is baggy and almost of a square. Valentino has an ability to take that silhouette and make it fun through designs and colors... And honestly I just want to see how he would be in an elevated version of his style now.
SEUNGKWAN - Jacquemus
He likes to play it safe when it comes to his schedule outfits and I think is just up his alley. It's safe enough that it would be nice to see him in it in the way we see Vernon in K3nz0 every waking moment.
But also bold enough to test his comfort when it comes to fashion.
#the way i put so much effort into this lksfdjldskjsldfkjsldjkfa i .....#i will not be debating any of this#sg: fash
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5 songs, 3 outfits 🔥
Rules: post 5 songs associated with your OC, followed by 3 outfits they would wear.
thank you for tagging me @mail-me-a-snail! lil v incoming choo choo~ (im gonna post 5 songs i haven't yelled about in the master playlist essay i made for him last time)
🔥5 songs🔥
Aztec Death Whistle - MISSIO
You destroyed me just to leave me
And I felt like I was dead
Stop fuckin' with my head
Cast out by 16 when I was just lookin' for a home
I felt fucked and abandoned and abandoned
Gave up by 20 and thought God had saved my dark soul
2. Me and My Brain - Airways
And I'm sure I heard him say
"You can't get in the backseat
'Cause you'll drive me insane
You and your brain"
3. DRIVE OFF A BRIDGE - Jakey
Tell my friends that it's okay know I'm with you everyday
Nothing's ever gonna change even if we separate
Tell my lover that I'm sorry for these days I couldn't save
Know I love you from the morning to the night I drive away
I wanna go 85, drive off a bridge and die
4. It's Called: Freefall - Rainbow Kitten Surprise
Anyway, you say you're too busy saving everybody else
to save yourself
And you don't want no help, oh well
That's the story to tell
5. Demons - Joji
You're taking my heart, now
They're taking my heart, now
And I don't know why
[...]
We don't gotta die so soon
So I just behave for you, for you, for you
as for 🔥outfits🔥, little V doesn't wear a lot of bright colors, and prefers a jacket or a hoodie with him. he also usually doesn't wear anything fancy (since he's not used to dressing up nice) because he wants to keep a low profile, and slip in and out of windows and whatnot easily.
(the cardigan fit is one he especially used a lot when he was in Atlanta when he crashed weddings pretending to be a guest!)
No pressure tagging @elvenbeard @v-eats-bugs @toastysol @killyourrdarlingss @z-lagorio @chessalein and anyone who'd like to join, feel free to feel tagged by me!
#i realize the songs make him sounds super depressed but he's stopped trying to actively jump to death now!!#he's behaving. for johnny :'}#lil guy v#askingcactus#ofc there's it's called freefall in his playlist 😔🤚
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Your color
February Filth Fest : Day Twenty
Kim Hongjoong x gn reader
a/n: GOOD GAWD IM HOWLING
"Red is your color, Baby."
✫彡wordcount: 700
(>ᴗ•)genre: smut drabble
ಠ_ಠwarning/contents: not edited, collar/rope, bondage, overstim, oral, dacryphilia, dom hj, use of a non-verbal safe word, pet names(joongie & baby,angel), name calling(brat&slut), hj calls the reader every compliment in the book(pretty, beautiful, handsome, an angel, ect), brief throat fuck
FFF tags: @cherryxsang @k-drizzle
SMUT UNDER CUT MDNI
Hongjoong would never hurt you. Mind, body, or soul. Which is not to say he won't make you cry your eyes out by making you cum until you break. So when you decided to piss him off and tease him all day when you knew he was busy: he does just that.
You're tied up in intricate silky ropes. They hold your legs apart and make your writhing useless. You aren't going anywhere as he works you with his mouth.
You've came an ungodly amount by now. Your legs are shaking in place and you can't wipe away the waterworks as he holds your bound hands at your stomach. Whenever you gulp down your sobs, the collar on your neck feels like it's choking you ever so slightly. "Joongie, please! I can't cum anymore! I can't do it!"
He doesn't say anything, he keeps his mouth on you. "Joongie, please!"
You feel another Earth shattering release coming up, and you decide you can't handle it anymore. You snap your fingers quickly, over and over. He's off you in a single second, breathing heavily as he looks up at you. You can barely see him through the tears in you eyes, but his concern comes through in his voice.
"Okay, Baby?" He wipes the collection of slobber and cum off of his chin with his hand, half-hazardly wiping it on the bed.
He pulls himself up off his stomach and unties your hands. They immediately grab ahold of his wrists and shakingly try to pull him closer.
"Aw, Angel, I'm sorry..." He cuddles up to your body, still tied down to the sweat soaked sheets. He listens closely to your uneven breathing, wiping your face with his long sleeve.
"My dumb brat," he coos, sickeningly sweet. "It's okay, Joongie is here. I got you."
"T-too much," you cry, holding onto him tightly, whimpering as the cold air settles around your wet sex, legs unable to provide warmth as they're tied apart. He toys with the collar on your neck, smiling. "You did so good. Took so much."
His eyes travel down your completely exposed body. You look so, so good. Completely vulnerable and trusting him with your body in his hands. The ropes he picked out complement your skin perfectly. The red collar around your neck with a little gold H hanging off of it makes his mind go fuzzy. "So beautiful. Such a pretty, pretty, slut." He moans as he rubs your sore hips. "My pretty slut, right?"
"Yeah," you manage to mumble, groaning as he quickly unties your binds and flattens your legs for you. "Y-mhm." All of the words leave your mind as he rubs your hips gently and kisses your shoulder.
"Can my handsome little brat suck my cock?"
"Yes."
He sits up and tugs you to the very edge of your bed, letting your head dangle. He rubs up and down your chest as you reach up a wobbly hand and pull down his pants enough to get at his cock.
"You're an angel..." He praises as you stroke him slowly. Even though he's nearly rock hard, you still take the time and work him with yours hand to catch your last few breaths before you swallow him whole. He moans as he hits the back of your throat, and it's moments like these he's eternally grateful you agreed to let him throat train you.
"You look... you look so fucking good, Baby." The ropes are tangles around your legs and torso loosely, and the way his cock indents on your throat and knocks against the collar from the inside has him losing his mind. "Red is your color, Baby. Look fucking delicious."
You sputter around his cock at the sudden words and he pulls away, laughing gently as he holds your head up. You gaze up at him and pout. "Why are you laughing, Joongie?"
"You're so shy, Baby. Losing it over little compliments like you don't cream my cock every chance you get. S'cute."
"Hongjoong!"
—
#february filth fest#kim hongjoong#hongjoong#ateez hongjoong#ateez#hongjoong smut#ateez smut#smut fic
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hi! what do you make of ai art? im conflicted cause i see how its great for disabled people in many ways, but then i look back at the work people put into becoming artists and mastering the craft and feel many things lol i wish i could look at it similarly like i look at producers for example, where you have a vision and tools and you know how to use it well so you dont need the musical training background to be creative, but i cant help but feel like its more complicated with visual art? that theres a whole other side besides having a vision and good understanding of a shortcut tool. im very very torn and also sorry for all that on your succession blog but knowing youre a fantastic artist whos recently been dealing with this sort of impossibility to make art i wonder if you have some insight in this area.
sending love!
i appreciate u wanting to know my opinion on a Hot Topic such as this! i dunno man i have an aversion to any definition of art of any kind that requires effort or skill as essential features that make the art “real”. i think a lot of what is happening with AI discourse is that people are appropriately appalled by the way capitalism mangles creative output and even what kind of relationships artists can have with their work and with the rest of the world. i do not have a problem with a machine that digests and reconfigures information — a machine is just a machine. if one copied the way i make texture with colored pencil and produced an approximation of a new original work by me, i would be fascinated by what reactions i might have to it. would i feel threatened by it? would i be flattered? what might it open up for me, to see my work broken into a particular machine’s data? this is just a dream, though. i see many artists understandably frightened by what the exploiter class may choose to do with their new toys (and what they are already doing to us with them). it just sucks to see that very plain class antagonism passed over with arguments about the “purity” of human-made art, how it is somehow apparent to any observer when a work is truly endowed with a “soul” (if these arguments sound eerily like fascist aesthetic principles, it’s because they are fascistic).
and then to see people cheering for their own doom with this thing of mr. game of thrones & co suing chatGPT, complete with condescending explanations of how it’s not going to hurt fanfic writers because the problem these multimillionaires have is actually with people monetizing their work, and the true humble Fan would ne’er ask a but penny. do people really not see how this is making the divide between the “artist” and the “common person” greater? it is so goddamn expensive to survive right now, and the wealthy are using fear of technology as a tool to prevent you from making money, and yes, making art at all. only those with enough capital to protect their intellectual property with the force of the law are allowed to express themselves through art. yes, i think it should be well within your rights to bind and sell (for money, yes, money) your game of thrones fanfiction. so many of us are living in poverty right now, bombarded by entertainment but prevented from ever chewing it up or spitting it out. ed roth’s rat fink character had it right. fuck mickey mouse. like, we’re actually back to saying “fuck mickey mouse” being really cool. put him in a blender full of data, have it put him into a beach scene with BBW anime versions of lara croft and princess peach. intellectual property is a historically recent phenomenon. it is a tool to make the rich richer and get you well and squarely fucked. theoretically, yeah, it sounds good to have your work and livelihood honored and protected, but just like they’re trying to replace artists and actors and writers with AI, every single tool becomes a weapon in the hands of the rich. the hell people are worried they need more punishing copyright law to fix is already here. the woman who designed care bears & strawberry shortcake never saw a penny from it. AI art is only a threat in the hands of the corporations that happily do these things in the first place.
anyways. lol. i’m not very technologically minded in my own art practice — i’m not naturally drawn to new technology as a part of my work, and find many of the results i’ve seen from current AI art tech to be kind of aesthetically unpleasant. artwork contains unpleasantness, though. i’m not really interested in arguments over what artwork “should” contain, only what it does. i think the best AI art i’ve seen (ie: the stuff i’ve enjoyed the most) has been from alan resnick:
it is so terrifically disquieting. it leans into what makes AI-generated BBW lara croft kind of difficult to actually jack off to. the overlapping lines of bodies, the nonsense text. but then, if this work has merit, is that because alan resnick is uniquely special, thus proving the point that the technology is only valid in the hands of a “real artist”? can mr. resnick be said to be the “artist” of these images at all, because he trained a program to his own style and input interesting ides? does he deserve lots of money for his work creating iconic adult swim shorts like this house has people in it? well sure
or would this art only have value if somebody put a tremendous amount of labor into it? you know. my mother used to tell me, “hard work beats talent when talent doesn’t work”. she said she should nail the phrase to my forehead, like martin luther at the church doors. having very recently become disabled & chronically ill, i don’t believe it anymore. i believe we should be able to use technology to make ourselves more free. we should not be so financially insecure that we are threatened by anyone expressing themselves with something we made. the ultra-wealthy are threatened by infringement because they need everybody else to stay poor, and the poor are threatened because they do not want to be poor any longer. it’s got nothing to do with strange scrambled pictures. if i could take pictures of every work of art i’ve ever loved and put it into a machine that mixes it up and turns it into a monster, i would do it just for a bittersweet laugh at it.
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Just found your acc and read that hopper smut u recently wrote and it was so good
Could you write hopper x afab reader where the reader keeps teasing hopper and hopper tries not to give in but eventually he snaps and the reader and him do it???
Weird request but could y write in it that the reader eats a popsicle in a seggsual way in front of him (seen it in other smuts and it’s just so gooood) just an idea up to u if u want to write it or not
hi babe! ooooh you're so lucky that ive been wanting to write something like this for awhile !! hope you enjoy love :)
p.s. im so so sorry everything has been taking me a while guys i needed to take a hot sec for myself ive been exhausted but ya girl is back and if you're lucky i might just do two of these tonight.
also tips arent required at all but definitely appreciated if someone feels generous enough!
warnings: okay MINORS DO NOT OPEN! teasing, semi-public sex, kinda have a hot thing for being bent over hopper's desk, definitely oral (male receiving), dirty talk? basically just you being horny as fuck for hop on a hot summers day and he just can't fucking control himself. degradation.
"..I'VE GOT SOMETHING ELSE YOU CAN SUCK ON, BABYGIRL.." hopper x female!reader !
It had been an uneventful summer, and you had been working around the station to help out Flo and Hop, you didn't mind filing paperwork and answering phones, and you certainly didn't mind getting to work with your boyfriend. But the boringness was beginning to get to you, and today just happened to be one of the slowest days you'd had so far, only one phone call had taken place, and it was just some little kid reporting their missing rabbit, you didn't have the heart to tell the poor soul that it had probably been run over.
And god it was at the point in the summer where it was suffocatingly hot, and you were sweating just sitting in your chair. You fanned yourself with a piece of paper, your hair moving back and forth slightly as you looked out into the bullpen, the desks filled with officers of your small town all of whom talking amongst themselves and generally trying to keep busy.
God, you thought to yourself, if I'm going to be sweaty and sticky it might as well be from doing something fun.. and idea pops in your head at the thought, your eyes glancing towards your boyfriend's closed office door. He had closed it only a little while ago, fed up with you and your antics.
You had been teasing him all day brushing up against him when you would bring him the case files for each day of the week like he had requested, to check up on how his officers were doing, or rubbing your hand on his thigh just slightly when you brought him his morning coffee, and let's not forget you had even bent over in plain view of him, just enough to show him that you weren't wearing any panties under your floral sundress (one that he told you made you look so innocent that he just couldn't help but take pleasure in completely whoring you out on his cock), but you knew just the outfit alone had probably had him going all day.
You smirk, sitting up straight in your chair, might as well have some fun today. "Flo, I'm gonna go ahead and take my lunch..make sure no one bothers me and hop for the next forty-five minutes okay?" You ask, the woman looks at you oddly before nodding her compliance, who was she to judge what you and the chief did behind closed doors?
You make your way to the break room, smiling and nodding at a few of the detectives you pass in the hallways, making sure to keep your hair up tightly in it's bun, you hated the feel of your hair sticking to the back of your neck.
You open the door of the freezer that was kept in the break area, grabbing a blue colored popsicle from the box you had brought in a couple of days ago, you unwrap it and pop it in your mouth before turning and making your way to his office, humming happily as you walk, knowing completely well that half the people in this building were possibly about to hear you get fucked.
You knock on his office door lightly, poking your head in with a smile before stepping completely inside, closing the door behind you, turning the lock on the handle. He was sat in his desk chair, head down and a pen in his hand as he looked over a paper.
The room was dimly lit, just his desk lamp casting a glow throughout the small space, you didn't mind though, made it a little less hot.
"What do you want?" He asks, voice flat. He doesn't look up, and you narrow your eyes, pulling the popsicle out of your mouth with a squelch.
"That's no way to treat your girlfriend, Chief." You say, bypassing the chairs that sat in front of his desk in favor of planting your ass on top of it, right next to him. Your legs parted just ever so slightly, your dress riding up on your thighs.
He glances up at you, this time a small hint of a smile ghosting at his lips. "Sorry, babygirl, ive been busy.." He says, moving one of his hands to give the exposed part of your nearest thigh a nice squeeze, his hand lingering. "What's up?"
You shake your head, your popsicle back in your mouth as you twist and such on it in an exaggerated fashion, popping it out of your mouth once more. "Nothing, just wanted to come sit with you for a bit, that a problem?" You ask, giving him that innocent look that he just loved so much.
He watches you, eyebrow raised as you start back in on the popsicle, laying your tongue flat against the blue sugar stick, sliding it up and down before sliding it back into your mouth, the same way you would often do with his cock when you would suck it. He wondered if you were doing it on purpose or if you were genuinely just enjoying it that much. Either way, his dick twitches at the suggestiveness of it all.
"Nah baby, I just have to finish these papers okay?" He says, giving your thigh another squeeze before taking his hand away, you can't help but to squeeze them together, just his touch getting you going more than you thought it would.
You nod, leaning back just a little farther, making sure you're in his eyesight as you continue to such on your popsicle, closing your eyes and groaning as you take it all the way into your mouth, damn near gagging on it, you feel his hands still next to you and he shifts in his chair god, you just know that he's got a hardon of your right now. He lets out a deep breath, and you can't help but to smile at him, slurping up your now dripping popsicle as if starts to run down your hands, catching the droplets before they can run off the stick and onto your skin, or stain your dress.
"fuck.." You hear him breath before suddenly the popsicle is knocked from your hands, scattering onto the floor, you look at him in surprise, a noise of protest coming from your throat. Your eyes are wide, hand still halfway to your mouth. He leans back in his chair, pushing it out just slightly as his ha da start fumbling with his zipper, pulling his cock out. He pumps if a few times in his hand as he looks at you, relieving some of the pressure that had built up from watching you all day. "you want to put on a show and suck on that fucking popsicle like a whore? well guess what baby, ive got something you can suck right here, and you've been teasing it all day too.." You lick your lips at his words and suddenly you're being pulled off of his desk onto the floor, your knees hitting it with a weak thud. "Get to fucking work."
You do as told almost a little too happily for his liking, feeling your wetness pool down your thighs as you rub them together, craving friction you so desperately needed to relieve yourself. Almost greedily you take him into your mouth, your tongue working around him as you take him all the way to the back of your throat, letting his tip sit there for a few seconds before you hear him groan, feel his hands move to the back of your head, holding you there as thrusts his hips up into your face, fucking your mouth almost as greedily as you had taken him in.
You gag, looking up at him as he continues to face fuck you, his eyes meeting yours. Your eyes brim with tears from the lack of oxygen, your face turning that glorious shade of red that he just loved so much, and fuck you knew you couldn't take much more but you couldn't help the desperate whine that leaves your mouth when he finally pulls out a few minutes later.
He cocks an eyebrow at you. "Look at you, such a messy fucking slut kneeling on the floor for me.." He says, before pushing his chair all the way back, standing up from it, he grabs you gently by the throat, standing you up before dipping his head down to meet you in a sloppy, wet kiss, your tongues colliding with each other. You moan as he starts walking you backwards towards the little couch he had sitting in the corner of the room, something he had room to spread out on. He turns and sits down, breaking your kiss. He pushes your dress up past your hips, drinking in the sight of your gloriously bare, dripping pussy, ready to take him in. He snakes and around your back, smacking your ass roughly before squeezing your cheek and guiding you forward. "You've been wanting this all day huh? You been teasing me with your dress and your bare pussy..you and your fucking touches..you get to do all the fucking work baby..come on, ride my fucking dick like the whore you are."
You shiver at his words, but too as told. You lift your knees to go on either side of his thick, muscular thighs and slowly, without any guidance you sink down onto his waiting cock, swallowing the thick, veining member down to the base. You both let out a groan as you sit fully on him, his cock already hitting your cervix in just the right fucking spot.
Slowly you start to move your hips, teasingly almost, the sensation of his head brushing that sensitive spot within you has you a moaning mess in seconds, and you feel him grunt, squeezing your ass cheek to guide you farther. "Don't okay games now, babygirl, ride that fucking thing." He spits out, looking down at you with dark, lustful eyes.
You moan at his words, but fuck it, he wants you to ride it? Game on, cowboy. You shift so your feet are planted on the ground, you start bouncing up and down slowly, gaining momentum before youre doing it so fast and hard that you can hear your thighs slapping against his clothed legs, you can hear the squelching of your wet pussy with every movement and your moans turn into high-pitched squeaks.
Without warning he pulls down the top of your dress, letting your tits spill out before he gives them a rough double handed slap, you groan at the sensation, your movements faltering only slightly and you hear him hiss out a breath before he takes one in his mouth, sucking and biting on the nipple like a starved man.
Out of nowhere you feel your orgasm start to hit you, that knot in the stomach coming undone faster than it ever had before and fuck if you didn't nearly start screaming at the sensation, your thighs shaking against his. His shoving his fingers in your mouth the only thing keeping the entire office from hearing your moment.
"fuck, look at you being such a good fucking whore for me riding me like a fucking cowgirl." He says, his hand going to your hip to help guide you up and down as you start to falter, your orgasm still riding you. "You're doing so fucking good for me babygirl, keep going just a little bit longer okay? Can you do that sweet girl?" He asks, bouncing you up and down on his cock, his hips thrusting up to meet you with every bounce, your eyes close and you start to suck on his fingers, fucking sucking on them like they're his dick, swirling your tongue around them, you open your eyes and you start bobbing your head back and forth on them, meeting his gaze as he feels your pussy start to clench, your second orgasm already hitting you just as hard as the first. Fuck, he loses it when he feels your whole body start to shake in pleasure, from the intensity of cuming so hard on his cock and fuck if he doesn't shoot his load in you, letting out a groan louder than he he meant to. "Fuck, baby.." He grunts, relaxing his hips as he starts to feel his cum drip out of you and onto his pants, some of it getting the floor too.
He takes his hands out of your mouth and you collapse against him, unable to move. Your head rests on his chest, and his hand is in your hair, both of you panting as you try to come down from the intensity of both your orgasms. "You good sweet girl?" He asks gently, looking down at you.
You nod, patting his chest and he chuckles, closing his eyes for a second. "Baby, I've never been better." You say, and he laughs, kissing the top of your head.
"Good," He says, slowly lifting you off of him and putting you next to him, letting you curl up. "i like to keep my babygirl satisfied.." he sits with you for a while, letting you nap as the force of the way you were fucking him, and the way you had came twice in such a which span had taken all of your energy. After a while he slowly gets up, moving you to a laying position before he goes and grabs his coat that had been hanging up since spring, pulling it over your body and watching you curl up. He knew that even if it was hot you still needed to sleep with something covering you.
He figured he'd take off work early when you woke up, take you out to a nice early dinner before taking you to rent a few movies and then going home to snuggle on the couch all night, if was his favorite way to end the day sometimes..
#stranger things#stranger things smut#stranger things s2#stranger things s3#chief hopper smut#hopper#jim hopper smut#hopper x reader#jim hopper x reader#hopper imagine#jim hopper imagine#chief hopper imagine#chief hopper x you#chief hopper x reader
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hello! may I please request an angst for ahs about kit walker x female reader with them being in the asylum and the prompt "i'm sorry this was all my fault"? thank you ❤︎︎
𝐈’𝐦 𝐬𝐨𝐫𝐫𝐲, 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐢𝐬 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐦𝐲 𝐟𝐚𝐮𝐥𝐭
𝗦𝘂𝗺𝗺𝗮𝗿𝘆: ᴋɪᴛ ᴀɴᴅ ʜɪs ᴡɪꜰᴇ, [Nᴀᴍᴇ] [Lᴀsᴛ Nᴀᴍᴇ], ɢᴇᴛ ᴛᴀᴋᴇɴ ᴛᴏ ᴛʜᴇ Bʀɪᴀɪʀᴄʟɪꜰꜰ ᴅᴜᴇ ᴛᴏ ᴛʜᴇ ʙᴇʟɪᴇꜰs ᴏꜰ Kɪᴛ ᴡᴀʟᴋᴇʀ ʙᴇɪɴɢ ᴛʜᴇ sᴇʀɪᴀʟ ᴋɪʟʟᴇʀ “ʙʟᴏᴏᴅʏ ꜰᴀᴄᴇ,“ sɪsᴛᴇʀ ᴊᴜᴅɢᴇ ᴛʀɪᴇs sᴛʀɪᴋᴇs ᴜᴘ ᴀ ᴅᴇᴀʟ ᴡɪᴛʜ [Nᴀᴍᴇ] ɪɴ ᴏʀᴅᴇʀ ᴛᴏ sᴇᴇ ʜᴇʀ ʜᴜsʙᴀɴᴅ, Kɪᴛ ᴡᴀʟᴋᴇʀ, ʙᴜᴛ sʜᴇ ʀᴇꜰᴜsᴇs ᴀɴᴅ ʙᴇᴄᴏᴍᴇs ᴀ ᴘᴀᴛɪᴇɴᴛ, ᴍᴀᴋɪɴɢ ʜᴇʀ ᴏᴠᴇʀᴛʜɪɴᴋ ᴛʜᴇ ᴅᴇᴀʟ.
𝙏𝙝𝙚𝙧𝙚 𝙖𝙧𝙚 𝙖 𝙗𝙪𝙣𝙘𝙝 𝙤𝙛 𝙜𝙧𝙖𝙢𝙢𝙖𝙧 𝙢𝙞𝙨𝙩𝙖𝙠𝙚𝙨 𝙙𝙪𝙚 𝙩𝙤 𝙢𝙚 𝙙𝙤𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙩𝙝𝙞𝙨 𝙖𝙩 𝙡𝙞𝙠𝙚 1 𝘼𝙈
𝘼𝙣𝙙 𝙞𝙩'𝙨 𝙖 𝙗𝙞𝙩 𝙨𝙝𝙤𝙧𝙩
<------------------————𖤐-------------------———->
“Get ya hands off of me!”
“Search everywhere!”
“Don’t let him go!”
“Im innocent!”
You were awoken by loud crashes and multiple voices. “Kitty?” The warm spot where your husband laid was now cold. “Kit?” You flinched when you heard more shouting and banging.
You immediately got up and ran downstairs, only to see your husband, Kit Walker, being held down by some police officers.
They all turned their attention to you and you noticed how the color drained from Kits face.
“Darlin’ get out of here!”
Suddenly, one of the police comes up behind you and tugs on both of your wrist, slapping on a handcuff. “Leave her out of this, shes innocent!” His struggle had gotten more intense.
The police officer pushed you down, causing your head to come in contact with the hard floor.
Black dots clouded your vision. You closed your eyes and left everything to drift away.
“[Name]!”
<------------------ఌ-------------————>
A bright light clouded your vision, making you blink to adjust the setting.
“don't touch her!“
You head shot up and you took in your surroundings. Your body was being carried by one of the guards while your husband was struggling to get to you.
“kitty...?“ your voice was hoarse and dry. “leave her in my office.“ a middle aged woman with blonde hair grabbed Kit by the wrist and pulled him into the dark, brick building.
“kitty?!“ you kicked at the guard. “Kit?! No, no, no, stop!“ your eyes build up with tears, your screams getting louder by the second.
The guard had brought you into a dull office. He sat you in one of the chairs and tied you to it. “Fuck you.“ you spat in his face and he pull your hair in response, before taking had leave.
After a few minutes, the wooden door burst open, revealing the same woman from earlier.
“Please, please, let him go, he hasn’t-“
“Shush, child.” The woman cut you off.
“You do realized why your husband is here, Mrs. Walker?” You shook your head.
“Hes an innocent soul. He’s-he’s kind and sweet. He would never-“
“Quiet!” She shouted, causing you to flinch.
“Enough of that Evil man, i came to talk about you.” She pointed her finger at you. “What…?”
You’re face plastered with confusion everywhere.
“You, my dear, are quite the pure soul, you are. So, lets say you were to work-“
“No.”
She scowled at your quick rejection. “Then you wont get to see, take care, or be with your beloved husband, and you will stay here as one of our patients.” The color drained from your face.
“You crazy bitch.” You spat in her face, but she only smiled in return. “Become one of the nuns.” You rapidly shook your head. “No, just leave us alone!”
Again, the same question, following your same answer.
She grabbed your wrist and slammed in on the wooden table. “You’re making a grave mistake, child.” You whimpered in bad, the hard, wooden desk leaving tiny scratches and cuts.
She brought both of your wrist back up and slammed them on the table again, causing a bruise. “S-stop!” Tiny tears filled the brim of your eyes.
“Now, lets try this again. Will you or will you not accept my offer?” You shook your head. She scowled and tugged on your wrist. “W-wait, where are we going?”
She clicked her tongue. Your vision got blurry, as you got more dizzier. The unfamiliar but imitating faces leaving a stinging print in your mind.
Nausea hits you hard, not hard enough to make you throw up though.
She stops in front of a steal door. “You have 3 days to change your answer or else you’ll stay as one of our patients and get out whenever he does.” She opened the door and threw you in.
“Enjoy your lovers quarrel, while you can,” she hissed and slammed the door shut.
“D-darlin?” A shaky, breathless voice that belonged to your dear husband called out.
“Kitty?” Tears that filled the brim of your eyes now streamed down your warm, soft cheeks.
“Oh, darlin, It is you,” he scurried his way to you, the cold floor shrieking as his skin hit the ground hard.
His body collied with yours, bringing you both down to the ground. “Oh my god, oh my god, i-i thought id never get to se-see you again. I was so sca-scared,” he sobbed in your shoulder, his salty tears staining your dirty shirt.
He stammered when he continued to mumble about how he was scared of losing you due to the Brarircliff.
You put your index finger under his chin and lifted his head up, giving him a chaste kiss.
The kiss was sweet, gentle, but hungry and eager.
He pulled back, a slight grin on his face, but it quickly faltered as you noticed his eyes going back and forth between you and the door.
“Babe, how did you get here, i thought they would release you?” You shook your head.
“They didn’t let me go because im your wife, and they thought i might be associated with the murders,” his eyes widen and his mouth was agape.
“W-what?” His breathing staggered, and his chest heaved up and down in a quick motion.
“No, no, no, no, no…!” He tripped and stumbled in his footsteps when he tried to back up.
“Hey, kitty. Its okay,” you tried to walk forward, but he had slightly pushed you away. “No, its my fault, my fault you’re here. Even if i didn’t do the murders, i should be here, not you,”
More salty, warm tears fell from his glossy, and puffed up eyes.
“Kit, it doesn’t-“ he let out a scream, begging for you to back up. “Get away from me, you cant be near me. I-Ill end up making things wor-worse for you,” his sobs had gotten louder.
“No, no, no, Kit, please…” your eyes had returned to the glossy state they were in before, but more tears than before freed themselves.
“Im sorry, this is my fault.“
“Kit, dont do this…”
“Get out.”
“Please, Kit, please…!”
“I-I wont do you good, leave.”
“N-no. I wont leave you-“
“I said, GET OUT!”
“No, no…”
“GET OUT, GET OUT, GET OUT. YOU CANT BE HERE!”
“Stop it!”
“GO!”
Your sobs had gotten even more violent. Your back had came in contact with the steal door as it opened up swiftly. Your body was plummeting to the ground.
“Im sorry…this is all my fa- fault…”
That was the last thing you heard from Kit before the door shut closed.
“So, changed your mind yet? You become a nun, you take care of Kit until he gets out of here. He clearly doesn’t want you here as a patient, so why not a nun? Plus, it’ll benefit you and me, as you are a pure sou. A good addition to our asylum and you get to take care of Kit,” she chuckled.
You looked up to sister Jude smiling down at you. “Lets try a again, do you accept my offer?”
You slowly nodded.
<------------------————ఌ——————----------—->
#sister jude#ahs asylum#american horror story#kit walker#bloody face#wow#evan peters#evan peters imagine#ahs fandom
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I’ve been WAITING for this question okay so
Just to clarify I’m fairly new to comics and also not up to date on what’s happening with most of the characters rn so if this doesn’t fit anywhere in any current timeline or has already been done uhhhh sorry I don’t give a fuck
Anyway I’d give Starfire a solo series.
The first major arc would be kind of a space road trip type thing and for this arc I’d partner Kory up with Donna Troy and it would be so fruity. Like so so fruity. Those women kiss. I’m not sure what exactly I’d have Kory doing in space or why Donna joins her but the arc should end in a way that consolidates the best parts of her lore and scraps everything else (this is how I’m retconning Red Hood and the Outlaws). So some kind of soul searching magic quest idk.
At the end of her space quest, Kory gets established with a job and apartment in a new city and her villains are all super high tech, sci-fi. The artist needs to have some fuckin whimsy in designing characters and backgrounds, none of that dark grey everything is gritty shit. Bright colors all around. Obviously there would probably be at least one arc with the Titans but I’d really want her to work with characters she hasn’t previously interacted with or to bring back characters she hasn’t worked with recently like Animal Man. Maybe for one arc she teams up with the (RENEE MONTOYA) Question to blend Kory’s whole alien thing with a street level noir story (making Dick the detective for this would be so lame and im not about that. Im giving Kory more female friendships thanks). I don’t know if she’s ever worked with Kon but if she hasn’t THIS IS THE TIME. It would be soon after she gets back from space and would kick off a storyline for him to change in some important way like idk maybe growing out of the Superboy mantle and actually being an adult.
Maybe none of that makes sense and if this is stupid feel free to tell me so. So yeah that’s my idea. Korydonna space road trip, set up a new status quo for the remainder of the series and have her work with new characters to fight super powered sci-fi villains in mundane settings, emphasis on Kory working with other women. If I have fundamentally misunderstood this character then just ignore all of this. But anyway the thing about this that I think would piss off DC is that Kory has no male love interests in this series, at all, period. She either kisses Donna or no one at all.
Unrelated to that I would also fix the whole Batgirl thing and have Babs be Oracle again, retcon Cass’s villain arc out of existence, and put her back as Batgirl for a solo series so we can have her pass the mantle to Steph at the end in a way that’s satisfying and does not include the character assassination. I don’t know how I would accomplish this in-universe without fucking up the timeline but I’d find a way.
I'm interested and am listening to you very closely. I'm not the most well versed person in Kory or Donna lore (I've read thousands of comics but not a lot with them meaningfully) so I can't say if this is compliant with anything, and even if it was an impossibility, this is about self indulgent stories YOU would write with no one at DC to tell you NO. I definitely feel strongly that DC needs more women with their own solos featuring other women and having relationships that are platonic so this 100% good in that regards and I feel a lot of people would be interested.
Kory and Kon interacted in TTv3 but I can't justifiably say it was the best of situations so having better interactions would be 100% a delight to see.
But yes, Kory deserves her own solo and we always need more queer content. And SPACE! We need more comics that take you away from Earth.
But here's an important question; WHAT CITY is she working out of??
Babs being Oracle again is a mantra even the most staunch of batfans cry daily and I feel most would welcome her back.
Tell me what you would do if you had full creative control to write for DC with NO push back from editors and who would you piss off the most with your unhinged creative wiles?
Also, I shouldn't have to say this but don't be a DICK to anyone whose self indulgent fantasies might make you mad. Keep scrolling, block, move on. Thanks.
#literally i have read thousands of comics but nearly all of them only had kory or donna as a background character#ttv3 was the most significant comics i read with kory and i did read rhato but i hated nearly every second of it#i hated 90% of ttv3 as well#someone please give this woman a meaningful solo#or at least a mini
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"this love came back to me." - iv
Pairing: Sunghoon!AU x Reader
Summary: sunghoon never stopped loving his best friend's older sister. even when you broke his heart. even when you left. will he finally let you go or will you finally open up your heart to him?
Chapter word count: 1.649k
CHAPTER WARNIGS: more Angst!! surprise surprise; lots of it; heartbreak; unrequited love; childhood friends; friends to strangers; alcohol; heartache; slowburn!!; angsty af again im sorry lmao.
iv. flashback to eighteen and hurting.
Sunghoon was officially eighteen and he hated it.
They’d thrown him a birthday party. He hated them, but still appreciated the effort put in by his friends. He’d been attending a lot more parties since you left, desperately trying to become something he was not, faking it until he made it. That was the plan anyway.
It wasn’t a healthy mechanism to get over the girl of his dreams, but it was something. Enough to numb the pain away, even if it was for a few hours. He wasn’t getting drunk for the hell of it, especially not tonight.
Sunghoon was getting drunk to numb the hell of it. You were right there, an arm’s reach, home for the holidays before you were swept off again to university and then…to the other side of the world.
Up until a month ago, he was stupid enough to believe he was over you. Well, not over you per se. You were still everything he wanted, he swore he couldn’t love you more than he did back then, but not seeing you as often as before, did help. There wasn’t this constant reminder that he wasn’t yours, he was able to put some effort and attention into other people. But then, Jake opened his big mouth and told him the news.
“She’s leaving for two years; can you believe it?”
No. He couldn’t. One thing was studying three hours away from home, from him…another thing was transferring to a university across the globe. His soul felt thin, and his body trembled and chilled. Because no matter how much he tried to let go, he’d always hoped that you’d come back to him. That you’d finally choose him.
Even in his inebriated state, the news still made him want to cry. He knew he deserved to be chosen, undoubtedly, repeatedly. Was that selfish of him? To want to drag you away from the made-up dance floor in his living room and ask you why.
Why were you still hurting him? He’d tried so hard to let you go. He’d even gotten with other girls. Why were you still everything to him?
He looked at you then, as you grinned widely, jumping up and down to the beat of the song playing, screaming out the lyrics of a song he couldn’t remember the name of. You weren’t drunk, really, slightly tipsy at most. Your arms were wrapped around your best friend's midsection, who jumped up and down with you, hair spinning every way, eyes more dilated with being intoxicated, shining brightly under the colored LED lights that lit up the house. He hadn’t seen you in three months.
Sunghoon felt a crashing wave of feelings erupt everywhere. All at once.
“You good man?”
He gulped nervously, plastering a convincing grin on his face, hoping Jay, of all people, wouldn’t notice the slight waver in his voice, “Yeah, a hell of a party, right?”
“Where’s that girl you’ve been seeing?”
“Didn’t invite her.”
Jay shoved his shoulder, “What the fuck? Why would you do that?”
Sunghoon shrugged, “Told her I wasn’t interested.”
“I don’t get it―“, Jay stopped his rant before it even started, eyes flitting between Sunghoon and your figure on the dance floor, “For her?”
“Shut up.”
“That’s not heathy―“
“Shut up,” Sunghoon warned, bringing his cup to his plump lips, an impatient scowl on his face, “It’s got nothing to do with her,”
“Right.”
He couldn’t help but watch you when you were so close, joking with people around you, passing through the crowd with effortless motion, and smiling like there was nothing burdening you. It made him lose his breath. Sunghoon excused himself from Jay, needing to remove himself from where he could see you so clearly. He placed his drink on a table and tried to steady his breathing, head hanging low.
When he did pull his head up, his eyes instinctively lead him in your direction, meeting yours across the room. He held your gaze long enough, eyes softening the slightest as a grin formed on your lips.
“I’m so fucked” he breathed, eyes traveling down as his heart leapt at the sight of your legs carrying you towards him. God, why did you have to be so beautiful?
“Didn’t think I’d have to compete with an entire crowd to wish you a happy birthday,” You grinned, hands firmly planted on your hips as you came to a stop in front of him.
Your voice. Your softness. He missed you so much.
“I missed you.”
“Missed you too,” Sunghoon felt himself blush from your words, a gentle smile plastered on his lips. You leaned back to gaze up at him and wrapped your arms around his much taller frame.
When did he grow up?
Your hug was stronger than anything he’d ever known or felt, as if holding him wasn’t quite enough, one arm wrapped around his neck and the other around his waist, gripping the material of his shirt on his side, “Happy birthday, sweetheart.”
After a few seconds, you lifted your head, meeting his gaze, offering him a tipsy smile, showing slight embarrassment for your inebriated state.
Sunghoon couldn’t help himself. He missed you so much. He took your face in both of his hands, a nostalgic feeling taking over, as he looked closer at your flushed cheeks and puffy eyes with a worried frown, “Didn’t drink too much, did you now?”
You chuckled, “You know I can hold my liquor, I’m just happy to be home.”
Sunghoon kept one hand cupping your cheek and holding the back of your neck, “I’m happy you’re here too.”
You turned your head to break his stare, “How have you been? I feel like it’s been ages since I last saw you. I’m sorry we haven’t texted as much; college has been kicking my ass.”
He said nothing first, just looked at you. You could see the thoughts swirling around, see him decide what he was going to say. His entire demeanor changed, and your heart shattered seeing the tremble on his lips.
And that’s when you realized, he knew. He knew you were leaving, and you didn’t tell him.
“England, uh?”
His stare hit you and you let out a shaky breath, forcing yourself to meet his eye, “I was going to tell you.“
“Two years abroad and you forgot to tell me?” His tone was accusing.
You gripped your cup until your knuckles went white, “I didn’t forget.”
Sunghoon abruptly took a step back, making sure there was enough distance between you two. He hated being an asshole to you, but he was on a roll, too far gone to come back down.
“Funny,” he let out, jaw clenched, “You didn’t forget.”
“I wanted to tell you,” You tried again, but he put his hand up immediately.
“No, you didn’t. Because you still see me as the same little kid, who’s too in love with you to see reason.”
You took a step forward suddenly, shock on your face, “That’s not true.”
“It is,” Sunghoon composed himself, lowering his voice, avoiding preying eyes, “You’re lying to yourself.”
You scoffed, giving up entirely, "We're not fighting right now, it's your birthday. You're drunk."
"Still sober enough to understand I’m clearly not a friend anymore,” He tried his best to cut off any feelings from his voice, but he still felt stupid. He was hurting.
"What are you talking about?" Your voice sounded as desperate as you were feeling, "You're the reason I came here in the first place!"
It felt like concrete drying in his chest, "For my birthday, not me. Not because you wanted to, because it was the right thing to do."
“Sunghoon, I care for you,” You let out, tired, “I always have, always will.”
“But you don’t love me.”
You looked guilty, like you felt sick, “Of course I love you. I’m…just not in love with you Sunghoon.”
Why did it hurt so much? He knew. You told him before you left for college. You weren't in love with him. Why did he have to bring it up, again?
His voice almost failed him when he spoke again, “Is it because I’m younger than you?”
“No,” you blurted out, “I just, don’t Hoon. It’s not your fault.”
The look of realization on his face was enough to crush you. You tried so hard and yet you always ended up hurting him. Sunghoon was drained, it hurt when he realized he wasn’t as important to someone as he thought he was.
“And I’m only here for another week…”
“I get it.”
“Sunghoon.”
Everything about him made you want to burst into tears right there and then. He wasn’t just someone, some random guy…it was Sunghoon. You were torn between walking away or wrapping or arms around him.
“I’m sorry it took me this long to understand.”
The party around you two had long faded. You were surprised no one interrupted your conversation in the small kitchen.
“I think…I think I should stay away from you,” your face dropped even more, if possible, “Whatever this is…this friendship, one-sided love, it ends here.”
A bucket of ice water down your back would have hurt less than hearing his voice in that moment.
“What?”
“This was what you wanted, right?” his voice raised slightly, his hurt displaying itself as anger. You felt your heart drop, as you caught tears in his waterline, and then he was ready to walk away.
You grabbed his wrist immediately, “I can’t lose you.”
He tugged his hand away, staring back at you with glassy eyes. You felt your bottom lip tremble, you knew this was going to happen,
“I’ve stopped being selfish, now it’s your turn,” he whispered, tears falling down his cheeks silently. And he walked away, hand wiping his teary eyes as a group of friends approached him with more drinks.
It was time to play the birthday boy part.
And as much it hurt, as much it ached, you didn’t run after him. He was right. If letting him go entirely was the only way to save your friendship, you’d do it in heartbeat. Because walking away was the best thing you could do for him.
______________________________________________________________
two updates in less than 48h...who am I? lmao. im sorry it took me so long to write more chapters but my mind was blank, really, nothing seemed good enough to write.
anyways, I hope you enjoy!! can't promise I'll keep posting as fast, bc I probably won't, but fingers crossed.
#sunghoon#enhypen#alternate universe#jake sim#kpop#yang jungwon#enha niki#enha sunoo#park sunghoon#heeseung#jay park#park jay#sunghoon enhypen#sunghoon x you#sunghoon smut#sunghoon angst#sunghoon au#sunghoon aesthetic#romance#heartbreak#friends to lovers#friends to more#friends to strangers#sunghoon x oc#sunghoon x reader#sunghoon x y/n#enhypen fluff#enhypen imagines#enhypen blurbs#enhypen boyfriend
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