#actually proud of the lighting on this one

[sizzlingcloudmentality]

fuckboy

unnamed ppu character x f!reader | wc: 3.5 k | explicit, mdni

summary: you meet this guy at a bar, drink too much and he shows you his questionable definition of making out aka storage room sex. spoiler: it's never just the tip.

warnings: filth, very dubious dub-con, drunk reader, her consent is questionable, gaslighting, manipulating, he's an insufferable fuckboy and needs to go to hell actually, he's a bad lay, unspecified but legal age gap, fingering, rough-ish unprotected PinV, creampie, petnames (baby, cockslut), dick+pussy pronouns, two ass smacks, no use of y/n, reader is able-bodied

a/n: this bitch was supposed to be a tiny drabble. oops. inspired by this post. @iamasaddie, you wanted me to elaborate, here you go, i hope this tingles in adult ways, at least a little bit. thank you for your help with the header <3 and thank you @guiltyasdave for the same as always: everything (aka beta and unlimited support and love 💕)

The bar is brimming, buzzing, the bass vibrates through every single person in the room, raw dogging each one of them, one after another and all at the same time.

He looks ridiculous. Too old for a place like this, hideous but somehow sexy Hawaiian shirt, of course only buttoned up halfway to show off his toned chest and a gold chain necklace, and he wears sunglasses, indoors. Big violet mirrors, aviator shaped, hiding behind them. Hiding his intentions but they are oh so clear.

The guy purses his lips, eyebrows dancing, hips moving side to side and back to front, obviously a preview of what’s to be expected if someone hooks up with him.

It was the blondish-white strand in the otherwise dark hair that made you weak for him. You don't even know why. While the rest of the man screams ‘fuckboy’ the blonde strand purrs ‘baby boy’.

The strand looks so pretty, whenever the color of the lights changes, always tinted in red or orange or blue. The strand looks really pretty in the storage room, too. It begs to be touched and tugged.

So you do. You touch it and gently tug it while he touches your thighs and tugs on your panties. Then he tugs them aside and you whimper when he runs his thumb through your slit without a warning.

“How old are you exactly?” he rasps against your neck, licking your skin while his thumb searches for something. Your clit probably, you think and moan when he finds it for a moment.

“Old enough to drink alcohol,” you mutter and let your head fall back against the tiled wall. The turned over crates bite into the flesh of your ass, empty bottles rattle when he pulls you closer towards him.

“So you're old enough for this bad boy.” He grins at you, a stupid proud grin, and takes your hand away from his hair and guides it to the bulge in his jeans. When you don't start moving your hand, he does it for you, over the whole length and back. “You want him? Wanna see him? You do, right?”

His damp breath brushing your ear adds to the dizziness in your head. Your head is spinning a little from the music and the drinks. Spinning, just like his thumb, that is now circling close enough around your clit to finally feel good.

“I dunno,” you murmur and try to get your swimming mind to focus.

“That's not a no, baby. So you want him. I knew it.” His free hand fumbles with his zipper. The crates you're sitting on quake when he pulls down his jeans. And before you know it, you feel something in your palm. Smooth and hard and hot, heavy, jumping in your hand.

It’s not exactly what you signed up for earlier, when he paid for two of your drinks and sucked on your earlobe. When he said something about you being so cute and making out with him. Just kissing. I promise, baby. I know a place. And then he dragged you along with him into this crammed storage room that smells like booze and sweat.

You kissed, for a minute or so. But now you have his cock in your hand. You look down and his thumb swipes over your clit, making you moan and him twitch. Why do you have his cock in your hand? He feels so heavy and warm. He feels a bit good, actually.

His hand moves to cup your cunt, the ball of his thumb pressing against your sensitive nub and a nimble finger -or two?- is slipping into you and immediately back out. At least that's what it felt like, you're not sure. But you feel yourself clamp down on nothing, chasing what was there just a second ago. His tongue moves over your pulse and a whine escapes you.

“Oh, I know, baby, you like him, right?” He moves closer, trapping you between the cold wall and his warm body, between the plastic crate and his dick. A finger dips into your heat again, deeper now, deep enough for you to be sure about feeling him inside of you. This is definitely not just kissing, but it somehow feels good.

“Baby, she wants me. You feel it, too, right?” His tongue runs along your neck and to your ear, his hips buck and your fingers tighten around his cock. He’s so hard beneath all the hot smoothness.

His fingers are pushing in deeper now and you clench around him. “See? You want me. You're so wet, baby. You know that it means you want me.” He pulls his fingers out and presses them back in, matching his thrusts in your palm with the rhythm of fingering you.

You groan out a curse and start accepting your fate. Fine, then you're getting fingered in exchange for a few drinks. That's okay, he's not too bad at it. The thickness of his fingers is half the battle.

The small blonde strand is catching your attention and lures your hazy mind in. Baby boy. Your body already surrenders to his ministrations and you roll your hips, moaning when he slips in another fraction of an inch.

“Mhmm, jus' what I thought. Desperate, that's what you are. You want more? You feel good?”

You dumbly nod your head because all you're able to think about is the throbbing ache in your pussy and the smooth movement of his cock in your hand. Yeah, he makes you feel good. With a wet sound he pulls his fingers out again.

“I'll give you more then, if that's what you want.” He nudges your hand off his dick and grips himself at the base. “Baby, look. He's excited for you.”

You look between your bodies again and squint to get a clearer vision. Precum. He's leaking. There's a clear drop forming over his slit. No, this definitely is not just kissing. Your eyes meet his again and when you open your mouth to speak he shifts forward and wedges the fat head of his cock between your folds.

You're whining again, your hips bucking into the sensation. A moment of clarity forms between your dazed mind and your nudged clit: Fuck. Shit. No. You don't even know his name.

When you start squirming he grabs you by your waist, firmly but not painfully. He hums, sounding a bit strained now. Slowly, slowly his dick glides back and forth through your slit, pushing at your nub whenever he reaches it.

“Baby, what's the problem? It feels good, doesn't it?” His eyebrows dance and he looks at you like a kicked puppy. “God, you're so messy, listen.”

It's true, you can hear the squelching over the soft clinking of bottles in the crate whenever he guides himself all the way to your entrance, rubbing his shaft against you.

“Yeah, but…” You groan quietly when he moves his hips back and drag himself along your clit. “A condom. You have one?”

He just laughs and continues his movements through your slick folds.

“What would we need a condom for, hm, silly girl? They're just cuddling. She hugs him, baby, hugs him real tight.” He pushes his cock forward to your clenching hole, but never makes the final move, never dips in. Your mind tells you no, yet your body clearly wants it, to be fucked.

“And he likes her. Look, they're kissing.” He draws his hips back, cock in hand, and starts dabbing and tapping and burrowing the thick, plush tip against you. “Just making out, like us. That's okay, right? Kissing?”

He pushes deeper again, only to move back immediately. Back and forth, just his tip rubbing you, just the fat rim teasing and teasing and teasing your aching clit. It looks good, the way he appears and disappears again, all glistening.

“That's okay, yes,” you mutter breathily, trying to suppress another moan. He doesn't let up, keeps the slow rhythm of back and forth. God, you need his fingers again, he needs to numb the pulse inside of you.

“I know it's okay. Feels good, hm?” he whispers sweetly against your lips before flicking his tongue against your top lip. “She feels so good, baby… You like how he feels? Like how my cock feels?”

You nod your head again and meet his movements halfway, tilting your hips so you can feel him prod your entrance a little more. The emptiness inside starts hurting and you whimper with his lips ghosting yours. He smells of beer and body spray, all mixing together with a whiff of arousal.

“I need… I need…” you gasp out and try to grind against him as good as you can.

“You want me to stop? Is it too much?” His movements come to a halt and he pulls away slightly, grinning and hiding it behind a sweet little peck.

You squirm again, this time closer instead of away. One hand clutches his, the one he pumps himself with. You swallow, your tongue darting out to wet your lips. They taste like booze and beer.

“No, no, god, please. I need a lil' more?” You tug on him, trying to guide his hand back right up against your core.

“Oh, I'm not sure, baby…” He gives in a little bit and lets his leaking cock rest against your sensitive nub again. “You really want more of me? Of him?”

You tug more on his hand, frustrated with his hesitation. “Need you inside,” you groan and pull on his fingers, wanting them back in your aching cunt.

“Inside? Are you sure?” He lets you squeeze his fingers into the wetness of your slit, carefully letting his dick follow.

“Yes! Please,” you whine and let go of his hand when he prods you with a single digit. Thank fuck, you think.

“But jus’ the tip,” he murmurs almost apologetically.

Your question about what the hell he is talking about is knocked out of your brain the moment you feel a stretch that’s not coming from his fingers. He presses inside of you. Just the tip, like he said. Like you never meant it. But he stretches you so perfectly on the first inches that you can’t even protest. Until he withdraws himself again.

“That good, baby? That what you want? Say yes,” he pleas, his breath hot against your ear and you feel him shift again. His dick slides all the way through your slit to your clit and back, slowly pressing back into you again.

“Fuck, yes.” It feels good. Better than the aching. You just want to feel stuffed. Your forehead drops onto his shoulder and you whimper when he continues to sluggishly fuck you with his fat tip. “But… a condom?”

He sighs and when he pulls out he stops moving again, leaving you hanging and you pussy clenching desperately.

“This isn't even sex, baby. It's just. The. Tip.” He tilts your head up and looks at you over his stupid aviators. “Listen, we can stop if you don't want this. I'm doing this just for you. Because you asked me to. You wanted more, right? Wanted to feel good?”

Your head nods, maybe a little prompted by his fingers under your chin.

“See, there we have it. You want this and they're just making out. Tongue kissing.” He pushes back in and it feels better than before. But you can't really say if he’s in deeper? You don't care too much. Tongue kissing. It makes sense. “I'm just doing this for you, baby. Because you seem to need it so badly.”

He smiles a friendly and seemingly sincere smile while pulling out and pushing back into you, painfully slow. Like scratching an itch with nothing but a tickle.

“I really care about you, hm?” His whisper fleets to your ear when he drops your face back to his shoulder. The next shallow thrust makes him grunt and your pussy clamps down on him. He slips past the tight spot -accidentally probably?- and you feel full for a second. Filled and good and you want it again.

But he draws back again, moaning into the crook of your neck. “Sorry ‘bout that, baby. But you're so wet. Got a slip and slide pussy there.”

His hips roll and his tip nudges back into you. Again and again, until your fingers are clutching him and your body writhes towards him, desperate for more depth. The edge of the crate cuts into the meat of your ass, the bottles rattling with every small thrust.

There isn't much to it. In your hazy mind this thought appears like a beacon. He's been inside already. The damage is already done, nothing you could take back now. He could fuck you stupid instead of feeding you this sample sized version of sex.

He wedges his hard cock back into your hole and slips out again, leaving your cunt sopping and clenching and empty. You can feel your slick slowly running down your thighs. You rarely ever felt this horny, this desperate for a dick. It’s almost like he teases you on purpose.

“Fuck me,” you whine and command at the same time. “God, just fuck me.”

“You sure? I don't have a condom. Are you clean?”

You manage to scoff at his audacity but… maybe he wouldn't ask this if he wasn't clean himself? That's good. It's safe, somewhat safe.

“Of course I'm clean.” You want to sound confident and pissed off but your voice is whiny and morphs into a moan when he thrusts into you halfway.

“I'm trusting you then. Don't lead me on.” He sounds strained now, strangled, with your snug cunt squeezing him.

A handful more slow strokes and he's buried balls deep. Both of you pant, you because your aching gets soothed and he because you pulse around him. Your body tries to egg him on to fucking move, but he just stays still.

“Shit. She tight.” He lets out a single hoarse laughter before his hips buck just a little deeper into you and you swear he must be somewhere in your guts. “Christ, she’s gripping him.”

He pulls out, almost completely, and fills you back up with one harsh thrust.

“Fuck,” you moan and hook your legs behind his ass when the tower of crates beneath you starts shaking from the impact. And then he starts fucking you, hard. Fast. The bottles rattle rhythmically in time with his thrusts.

His hands dig into your hips when he grabs hard enough to feel your bones. He pulls you onto him, fucking himself with you.

He's not good per se, just slamming into you over and over again, his balls slapping against your ass with every harsh pump. But he has a good sized cock, just an inch too long and a little too girthy. The stretching is never ending, the slight sting hurts just right, and his pelvis hitting your poor, swollen, teased clit is going to finish you sooner or later. You just feel so full. The way he stretches you out on his cock makes you dumb.

“You always do this?” He snarls, using the wobbling crate tower for more leverage. “Getting a guy to fuck you in the backrooms? You just need it that bad?” His thumb somehow finds your pulsing nub and he starts to rub it roughly until your legs quake around his waist from the stimulation.

“Oh… oh fuck…” Your nerve endings are on fire and your muscles twitch and clench. You clutch his arm, nails digging into his bicep when he won’t stop to harshly flick and rasp over your clit. Despite it all, you feel the familiar tug behind your navel. The heat is not building slowly, it’s approaching you violently.

“Don’t tell me you're close already, baby?” You see him grin before your eyes roll back, your vision turning black. “I thought I would be special. But you're just using me. Just want my cock.” He lets his hips snap into you, thrusting in too deep but in a good way. “Little cockslut.”

You whine, wanting to protest but you’re pinned down on the tilting crates, spread over this guy’s girth with your toes curling in your shoes. Complaining is the last thing on your mind.

“You gotta pull out.” Probably the only coherent thought you have left. You’re on birth control, but having this stranger’s cum dripping down your legs later when you're back with your friend?

“For real? A cockslut but not a cum dump? Such a rare breed, aren’t you?” His laughter sounds choked, breathless, the wet slapping of his slicked balls against your ass just as loud as his words. “I’ll pull out, don't worry, baby.”

He shifts his weight from one foot to the other and plucks your leg off of his waist. Even though your muscles are already tense and twitching he straightens it out over his chest. “But first I’ll make you come on him.” Another hard hip snap and the changed angle makes you see twinkling stars on your retina when he hits you deeper. He grins down at you when you cry out your pleasure. “That's right, baby, let me hear you. Let the people hear that you're my little cockslut.”

His lips latch to your ankle that's resting on his shoulder and sucks on your skin as if he wants to brand you. And while he somehow manages to fuck you harder you wonder how many women in this bar have a hickey on their ankles.

And then you stop thinking. His thrusts turn sloppy, sweat forms on his forehead and runs down your leg and adds to your slick. “I’ll make you come so hard. You can feel it, right? Make you gonna black out on my cock, baby.” A nip to your ankle and then a smack on the side of your ass and your pussy starts clenching and choking on his girth. Still he keeps on fucking into you, struggling with how hard your muscles tighten around him.

“I’m… I’m gonna…”

Your yelp makes him grip you tighter and with a last thrust you fall right over the edge. His moans ring in your ears when his hips stutter, but he keeps fucking you through it. Your spasming body is held securely in his arms, preventing you to hurt yourself on the wobbly crates.

“Fuck, that's it, baby. Best pussy I ever fucked, I swear,” he hisses when his hips start stuttering. “Gonna make me fucking come. Gonna come for you. You want that?” He slams into you and somehow prolongs your orgasm with how he spreads your quaking cunt open over and over again. More of that, you want more of this orgasm.

So you nod your head and moan, trembling like the stacked bottles beneath your body. “Yes, I want that, please. Jus’ don’t stop.”

Another smack lands on your ass and he gives you a few last pumps before he pushes into and against you so hard that it makes you wince. Through the pulsing of your walls you feel him throbs and twitch, spitting out his cum so deep into you that you feel stuffed, really fucking stuffed. And it feels so good.

After a second he starts rolling his hips, letting himself be milked by your pussy until he finally and unceremoniously pulls out. He tilts his head, looking at his handiwork over the rim of his aviators. “Fuck yes. She’s so pretty like that, all wrecked.” The tip of his cock squeezes through your swollen and ruined slit once more, slipping into your gaping hole to draw another moan out of you. When he pulls out again some of his cum gets pushed out and starts running down to your ass.

“You… you didn’t pull out?” Despite your anger your body still vibrates and twitches.

“Couldn't. She gripped me too tight. It’s her fault,” he smirks and pets your mound. “But don't worry, I'm snipped, baby.”

He wipes himself dry with his hand, doing a poor job but he doesn't seem to care. Still half hard and sticky he stuffs his dick back into his boxers. “You want my number, baby?”

“Fuck you,” you hiss and search the storage room for some tissues.

“I knew you'd break my heart, baby,” he chuckles and watches you clean yourself. “But I really like you. You're special. Got a perfect pussy, too. Here, if you wanna use me again, I'm all yours.”

He pulls out something off his pocket, like a business card. No name or number printed on it. He puts it on a crate next to you before kissing your forehead. “God, baby, I think I’m in love with you,” he croons with a shit eating grin.

“Sure you are, fuck off.”

He lifts his hands and walks backwards until he reaches the door. “Gonna miss you.” He purses his lips, making a little kiss noise and disappears back into the bar.

You look over your own appearance and see the blank business card. When you turn it around you see it. A fucking QR code. A fuckboy with a QR code. Some more cum leaks into your pulled back panties and you bite the inside of your cheeks.

“Fuck it.” You put his card into your bra. Stupid cockslut.

you liked this? that's alright, we are all filthy little animals here. commenting or reblogging is appreciated, thank you! <3

want more dub-con? maybe you like this short Dave York fic: tainted heart

find my general masterlist here

dividers: as always @/saradika-graphics

[4linos]

from roof to heart

kim seungmin x fem!reader

synopsis/request: seungmin’s thoughtful rooftop date sparks more than just a relaxing evening; it becomes a moment where both of you open up about the dreams you've been quietly cherishing.

wc: 1263

It had been a long time since you and Seungmin did something just for yourselves. Date nights had become uncommon due to his rigorous schedule and your own busy life. You'd spent endless hours together, but those lovely, simple moments that felt like the beginning of something fresh were rare and far between.

That's why, when Seungmin informed you he had a date plan, you couldn't help but get enthusiastic. It wasn't a big gesture. No luxurious dinners or costly plans. Just the two of you, spending time together just as you did when you first started dating.

You were in the middle of choosing what to wear when you heard him knocking on your door with a cheeky tone. "Are you ready yet? We need to get going!" You opened the door to find Seungmin standing there, his eyes bright with eagerness.

He was clutching a large, comfortable blanket in one hand, a snack bag in the other, and a bottle of wine. You raised your eyebrows, confused. "Where are we going, exactly?" Seungmin smiled and took a dramatic pause before saying, "We're going on the roof, silly!"

You blinked in disbelief, unable to help the laughter that bubbled up from your chest. “The roof? Really?”

Seungmin's grin widened as he moved closer, adjusting the blanket in his hands. "Yes, really. Trust me, it’s going to be fun." He helped you cross the threshold and led you down the corridor with a quiet, proud smile, obviously happy with his idea. His enthusiasm pulled you in.

As you two approached the stairs leading to the roof, you couldn't help but wonder where this idea had come from. Seungmin had always been thoughtful, but this was clearly more impulsive. "Did one of the members give you this idea?" You teased, your tone light with amusement.

Seungmin paused on the first step, his face turning slightly pink. “Well… yeah. Jisung actually.” He chuckled, scratching the back of his head. “But I thought it was cute. And honestly, I thought you’d like it.”

You smiled, your heart swelling at how sweet and sincere he was, even when he was a little embarrassed. “You’re right. I do like it.”

When you reached the top of the steps and went onto the roof, the cold evening air enveloped you, and the sky had already darkened into a soft gradient of rich blues and purples. Seungmin set the blanket on the ground, and the dim light from the city skyline in the distance made the rooftop feel comfortable and personal. You could hear the faint hum of traffic below, but everything was silent and quiet up here.

You sat on the blanket as Seungmin unpacked the snack bag, which contained chips, crackers, and some of your favorite fruit nicely arranged, and opened the wine bottle. He poured a glass for each of you, and you clinked them together with a gentle "cheers."

For a few moments, you simply snacked and sipped, the weight of your busy lives fading as you relaxed into the simplicity of the evening. Seungmin leaned back on the blanket, looking up at the sky. You followed his gaze, the stars beginning to twinkle above, and the world seemed to pause for just a second.

“Do you see that constellation over there?” Seungmin asked, pointing upward. “That’s Orion’s Belt, right?”

You nodded. “Yeah, I think so. I always liked that one. It’s easy to spot.” You smiled to yourself. It was moments like this quiet, simple that reminded you of the reasons why you’d fallen for him in the first place.

You've been quiet for quite awhile, just enjoying each other's company, but Seungmin, as always, has a thoughtful expression on his face, his gaze fixed on the stars overhead.

After a long silence, he smiles softly at you and speaks in a dreamy tone. "I think about our future sometimes," he says, as if the words had been on his mind for some time. "Like, what our life would be like... after we're married."

You look at him, a smile pulling at your lips, but you aren't sure where this is headed. Seungmin is the sort that keeps his thoughts hidden, so hearing him begin to disclose them like this feels unusual and personal. You nudge him playfully, causing him to look at you. "What, you've been planning our future without me?" you joke, arching your eyebrow.

He chuckles gently as his hand lightly brushes against yours. "Not quite. "Just... imagining." His voice is calm yet warm. "I can see us living in a small house somewhere, not too huge, but enough for us and a kid or two. Maybe we might have a son first. I can teach him baseball, you know? Playing catch with him in the backyard just the three of us, having fun, laughing."

You grin, leaning into him, amused by his detailed vision. "So, you’ve already planned on having a son who’s going to play baseball with you, huh?" you ask, teasing him, enjoying the image of him as a dad. "What if we have a girl instead?"

His smile widens, his eyes softening as he gazes at you. "If we have a girl, then I’d spoil her rotten," he says, his voice playful yet sincere. "She'd be my little princess. I’d treat her like one, take her to the park, buy her everything she wants." He pauses for a moment, glancing at you, his expression turning a little more serious. "But it doesn���t have to be a boy or a girl. It’d just be about having a family with you."

You’re touched by his words, but decide to keep the playful mood going. "So, what if we don’t have kids at all?" you ask, glancing at him with a mischievous smile. "Are we just going to live in that house and sit around, waiting for your baseball games and princess moments?"

He laughs, a little embarrassed but still so endearing. "Well, then I’d want a dog," he says, his eyes lighting up at the thought. "A dog to play fetch with. We’d take it to the park together, and I’d be the one to teach it tricks while you laugh at how bad I am at it. I’d be the dog’s favorite, obviously."

You laugh at his certainty, shaking your head in amusement. "You really have thought all this through, huh?" you ask, giving him a playful shove. "What made you think of all this, anyway?"

Seungmin looks at you, his gaze steady and sincere, as if this is something he’s been quietly dreaming about for a while. "I think about it often," he admits softly. "I just can’t imagine not having you in my life. I want our future, whatever that looks like, to be full of love, laughter, and little moments like this. Just us, being happy together."

Your heart swells at his words, and his vulnerability and sincerity bring you even closer to him. You softly grip his hand, laying your head on his shoulder, the noises of the city receding into the background as you allow his vision of the future wash over you.

"Well," you say quietly, your voice warm with affection, "I like that future. And if it’s with you, I know it’s going to be perfect, no matter what it looks like."

He smiles, his arm wrapping around you as you both sit there in comfortable silence, the stars above bearing witness to your shared dreams, your hearts already intertwined in a future that feels as bright as the night sky.

//

masterlist.

[hyperactively-me]

regency era!ghost x reader au (part 8, finale) warnings: allusions to smut, reminder: 18+ please

The morning of your wedding dawned clear and bright, the early light casting a soft, golden glow over the estate. You woke with a flutter of nerves and excitement, the reality of the day finally settling in. It was the day you would marry Simon, the Duke who had once been your adversary and had now become your greatest love.

The bridal suite buzzed with activity and last minute arrangements as maids flitted about. Your dress, an exquisite creation, hung waiting for you. As you step into it, the fabric cool and smooth against your skin, you feel a rush of anticipation. The dress fit perfectly, accentuating your figure and making you feel like a princess in a fairy tale dream come true. 

Your friends and mother gathered around, offering their congratulations and sharing in your joy. Girlish laughter and chatter filled the room, your heart overflowing with joy at the shared happiness permeating the room. Your mother adjusts your veil, her eyes misty with tears of happiness. “You look beautiful,” she whispers, her voice trembling with emotion. “The Duke is a very lucky man.”

In the meantime, Simon stood in his study, trying to calm his nerves. He was dress immaculately in a tailored suit, his usually stoic demeanor softened by the nerves of the day. A butler, who had helped him get dressed and ready, took on an affectionate, familial tone with him. 

“Nervous?”

Simon sighs, running a hand through his hair. “More than I ever thought possible,” he admits. “But also incredibly happy.” 

As the hour approaches, the guests begin to gather in the grand hall of the estate, the space transforming into a vision of elegance and celebration. Flowers adorn every surface, their fragrance filling the air. The sunlight streams through tall, wide windows, casting a warm, ethereal glow over the hall.

It was time for the bride to make her way down the aisle.

As you made your way to the entrance of the hall, your heart pounded in your chest. Your father was waiting for you behind the doors to the entrance, giving you a teary smile as you took his arm.

As the doors opened, a hush fell over the crowd, all eyes turning to you. You took a deep breath and stepped forward, your gaze immediately finding Simon at the end of the aisle. His eyes widened as he saw you, a look of pure love and awe on his face. You smile broadly in response, keeping eye contact with him the whole time.

With each step you took, your nerves began to settle, replaced by a sense of rightness and peace. This was where you were meant to be, with Simon, your husband and true love. When you reach him, your father gives you one last squeeze before Simon takes your hand, his touch warm and reassuring. You could see the pure emotion in his eyes.

The ceremony began, the words from the officiant flowing over you like a beautiful dream.

Simon never once let go of your gloved hands the whole time the officiant was speaking, and he never once tore his gaze from you. You were beautiful. Actually, beautiful doesn’t even begin to describe you; you were perfect. 

You never once let go of Simon’s hands, staring up at him with nothing but pure, unbridled joy. He was so handsome, so beautiful standing in front of you, your heart nearly burst. You squeeze his hands a few times, eliciting small smiles from him. 

You exchange your vows, your voices steady and clear, each promise spoken made with unwavering certainty. “I promise to love you, honor you, and stand by you,” Simon says, his voice echoing and proud. “For as long as we both shall live.”

“And I promise to love you, support you, and share in all your joys and sorrows,” you reply, your heart full. “For as long as we both shall live.”

When the words are spoken, and the officiant declares you husband and wife, Simon turns to you, his movements slow and deliberate. His hands are gentle as they lift to your face, his fingertips brushing over your jawline before finding the edge of your veil. The fabric trembles slightly in his hands, and you realize he’s just as overwhelmed as you are.

He raises the veil, lifting it over your head with the utmost care, as if the act itself were sacred. The delicate lace catches the light for a brief moment before it settles behind you, leaving you bare before him.

His breath catches, and for a moment, he simply looks at you. His eyes search your face, his gaze drinking in every detail—the curve of your lips, the softness of your cheeks, the glimmer of your eyes.

Then, with a tenderness that melted every last wall around your heart, he cupped your face in his hands. His thumbs brushed lightly over your cheeks, his touch reverent and steady. He leaned in slowly, his eyes locked with yours until the very last second.

The kiss was everything you had dreamed of—soft and warm, a perfect melding of your two souls who had journeyed through storms to find their calm. His lips moved against yours with gentle certainty, lingering as if to imprint the memory into his soul.

Applause and cheers erupted from the guests, but all you could hear was the beating of your heart and the softness of Simon’s lips against your own. It’s like firecrackers go off in your chest, the feeling purely and utterly indescribable as he kisses you. The kiss was filled with love, promise, and a sense of belonging that you had never felt so profoundly. 

When you finally pull back, both of you breathless and dazed, Simon rests his forehead against yours, a smile growing on his face. 

“Look at you,” he heaves, chuckling. 

Heat creeps up your cheeks, your own smile widening. “Look at us,” you whisper back, the joy in your voice undeniable.

The guests began to cheer and clap louder, their excitement only spurring you on. Simon keeps hold of your hand as you both turn to face the crowd, the final words blessing your union as husband and wife ringing in your ears. Together, you walk down the aisle, surrounded by friends and family, their congratulations and well-wishes filling your senses.

As you step outside the grand hall, you’re greeted by a cascade of flower petals raining down from above. The warm sunlight bathes you both, casting a golden glow on this perfect day. The carriage, adorned with flowers and ribbons, waits to take you to the reception. Simon helps you inside, your hands never parting.

The reception is a spectacular affair, held in the gardens of the estate. The tables are set with fine china and crystal, the air filled with the scent of flowers, and the sound of laughter. You and Simon are seated at the head table, overlooking the sea of guests who have come to celebrate your union. There were heartfelt toasts from loved ones, joyous laughter, and endless dancing. 

You shared your first dance as newlywed to a soft, melodic waltz. Simon took your hand, his touch warm and reassuring. He led you to the center of the floor, his gaze never leaving yours. Simon’s other hand found its place on the small of your back, pulling you closer. Your free hand rested on his shoulder, and for a moment, you both stood there, savoring the significance of the moment. The world seemed to fade away, leaving just the two of you, bathed in the soft glow of the lights and the warmth of each other’s presence.

With a slight nod, Simon guided you into the dance. You moved together with a natural grace, your steps perfectly synchronized. Each movement across the floor was fluid and elegant. Simon’s eyes never left yours, his expression a mixture of love, awe, and contentment. He held you as if you were the most precious thing in the world, and in that moment, you felt like you truly were. Every twirl and dip was executed with perfect timing, and you still wondered how he got so good at dancing. 

You could feel the gentle rise and fall of Simon’s chest with each breath he took. His scent, a mixture of sandalwood and something uniquely him, enveloped you, grounding you in the moment. His touch was firm yet tender, a constant reminder of his strength and his love.

As the night went on, you and Simon stole moments alone, savoring the newfound intimacy that came with being married. In a quiet corner of the garden, under a canopy of twinkling candlelight, Simon pulled you into his arms again. “You’ve made me the happiest man alive,” he said, his voice low and tender. 

You reached up, brushing stray strands of hair from his forehead. “You’ve made all my dreams come true, Simon,” you replied, your heart brimming with love. 

He leaned down, kissing you gently, the promise of a beautiful future shining in his eyes. The night air was cool, the stars bright above you, and in that moment, everything felt perfect.

Eventually, the festivities began to wind down, and it was time for you and Simon to depart. Guests bid you good luck and farewell as you were led to the carriage waiting to take you both away. 

You climbed into the carriage, Simon’s arm securely around you. As it pulled away, you looked back at the estate, feeling a mixture of nostalgia and excitement for the future. Simon kissed your temple, drawing you close. You snuggle into his side, embracing the warmth radiating from his body. 

Suddenly, he lifts your gloved hand up to his face. He twists it in his grip, inspecting your hand as though it was something he could not understand and was desperately trying to figure out. Then, without a word, he brings his own hand up, his fingers splaying outwards as he carefully aligns them with yours. He studies the juxtaposition of your hands, his expression unreadable yet filled with a sense of wonder and amusement. His fingers are thick, large, calloused… you wonder how they would feel in— 

“Wh- what are you do—?” you start. 

“Shh.”

You shut your mouth and swallow thickly as his eyes come up to meet yours once again. You feel as though they pierce through your very soul. He returns his attention back to your hand, now flipping your hand so your palm faces his face.

Then, with the gentlest pressure, he starts to press his thumb into the palm of your hand. As his thumb massages your skin, a tingling sensation spreads through your hand, causing a rush of warmth to flood into your cheeks. You feel a flutter in your chest as his touch sends shivers down your spine. Each deliberate movement of his thumb against your skin feels both electrifying and intimate, causing your head to spin. Lost in the moment, you find yourself unable to tear your gaze away from his intense eyes, their depths drawing you in like a magnet.

Then, just when you think you couldn't be more captivated by his touch, he surprises you once again. With a swift, unexpected motion, he guides your fingers up to his lips. Your breath catches in your throat as you watch, mesmerized, as his teeth catch the fabric of the fingertips of your glove.

You think you’re about to faint. 

A strangled gasp falls past your lips as he bites down ever so gently and pulls the satin off with his teeth. He lets it dangle from his mouth for a moment, his gaze never leaving yours, as if challenging you to keep eye contact with him.

You’re breathing hard now, soft pants slipping from your lips that makes Simon’s heart pound and his cock throb in his pants. 

With a flicker of a smile playing at the corners of his lips, he finally releases the glove from his teeth, allowing it to fall to the ground in a soft whisper of fabric.

Then, without hesitation, he brings your bare hand back to his lips, his touch gentle yet firm as he presses a barely perceptible kiss to the palm of your hand. The feather-light sensation sends a shiver down your spine, igniting a fire within you that threatens to consume all reason.

He then folds your hand, displaying your knuckles. He runs his lips over the ridges of your knuckles, letting his tongue slip out to trace the contours with tantalizing precision. Each delicate touch sends a jolt through you, left breathless and wanting, your heart pounding in your chest as you struggle to make sense of the primal desire that burns hotter with every passing second. 

Without warning, Simon slips his hand around your wrist and yanks you forward, causing you to fall on top of his chest. You squeak as you land on top of him, your body perfectly molding against his. His arms fasten around you in a protective embrace, holding you close as if you were the most precious thing in the world. 

With a gentle touch, he lifts your chin, his thumb tracing the curve of your jaw with feather-light precision. His touch sends shivers down your spine, igniting a fire within you that threatens to consume all reason.

“Si- Simon—" you whisper weakly, trying your best to keep yourself together. “We— this… in the carriage?” 

“Mhm,” is all he says, seemingly amused at how riled up you’re getting from his touch. If you’re this flustered just from that, he can’t wait to see how much further unraveled you’ll be when—

“Kiss me again.” 

Your voice trembles with both desire and anticipation, and Simon's eyes darken gleefully. Without wasting a second, he leans in, his lips capturing yours in a kiss that is both tender and searingly intense.

The carriage rocks gently as it moves along the path, but you barely notice. All that matters is the feel of Simon's lips on yours, the way his tongue shoves its way inside your mouth, the feeling of his hands all over you. 

Simon's hands roam up and down your back, pulling you even closer, as if trying to merge your bodies into one. You can feel the hard surface of his chiseled chest against your own, his heart beating wildly in sync with yours. Your fingers find their way into his hair, gripping tightly as the kiss deepens, becoming more urgent and fervent. He starts to slide his hands up your thigh, squeezing the plump flesh, and you're positively aching for him.

When you finally break apart, both of you are breathless, thoroughly whipped from the intensity of your kiss. 

Simon’s eyes bore into yours, filled with a love so profound it makes your heart thump wildly. 

"Tonight," he says, his voice a solemn whisper, "I will make you mine in every way."

Your breath catches at the promise in Simon’s words. The weight of his vow settles between you, thick and heavy with anticipation. He smiles, a slow, wicked curve of his lips that sends another shiver through you.

The carriage ride to his— your— estate is both torturously slow and blissfully short. Every moment stretched and savored, yet filled with an urgency that made you ache for what was to come. As you approached the estate, your heart pounded in your chest with the same fervor as the night you first realized you loved Simon.

He sat beside you, his fingers intertwined with yours, the heat of his palm grounding you. His thumb traced idle patterns over your knuckles—a silent conversation, a quiet assurance that he was as impatient as you, though he bore it with a composure that made you flush. He caught your gaze more than once, his lips twitching into that maddening smile that promised a thousand things he wasn’t saying aloud.

When the estate came into view, its tall spires and ivy-covered walls lit with the golden glow of twilight, your breath hitched. The grandeur of the place was breathtaking, but it wasn’t the imposing beauty of the building that stole your breath—it was the thought of it being your home. Your sanctuary. Your beginning with Simon.

The carriage came to a halt, and before the footman could move, Simon was already out, turning to help you down. His hands were steady and warm, wrapping around your waist as he guided you with the kind of care that made your chest ache. He lingered a second too long, his hands firm but gentle, before setting you on the ground.

"You’re home," he said softly, his voice low and rich, sending a thrill right through you.

- - -

The two of you lounged in the gardens behind the estate, the sun beginning its slow descent toward the horizon. It painted the sky in hues of amber and blush, the soft light catching in Simon’s hair as he leaned back against the trunk of a sprawling oak tree. He looked utterly at ease, his shirt sleeves rolled up, his boots discarded in the grass.

You sat between his legs, your back against his chest, his arms wrapped loosely around you. The scent of jasmine and freshly cut grass filled the air, mingling with the faint saltiness of the breeze rolling in from the distant river. Simon’s chin rested on the crown of your head, and you felt his chest rise and fall steadily against your back.

"Do you ever think about how far we’ve come?" you asked, your voice soft, almost a whisper, as if speaking louder would shatter the peace of the moment.

"All the time," he murmured, his lips brushing against your hair. "Especially when I have you like this. Reminds me how lucky I am."

You turned your head slightly to look up at him, arching a brow. "You? Lucky? I think it’s the other way around."

Simon chuckled, the deep, rich sound vibrating through you. He tightened his hold on you, pulling you closer. "No, it’s definitely me. You could have had anyone."

You laughed, the sound light and carefree. "No. It was just...you. The way you see the world. The way you see me," you teased, tilting your head back to meet his gaze fully.

Simon’s smile softened, his eyes searching yours as if he were trying to memorize you all over again. He reached up, brushing his knuckles along your cheek, his touch as gentle as ever. You leaned into his touch, pressing a kiss to his palm before lacing your fingers with his.

The two of you sat in silence for a while after that, watching as the sun dipped lower, the sky transitioning to shades of lavender and indigo. The first stars began to appear, faint but steady, twinkling above like tiny promises.

Simon’s fingers played idly with yours, his voice breaking the quiet. "Do you think we’ll ever grow tired of this? Just…being together like this?"

You shook your head, a soft smile curving your lips. "Never," you said firmly. "This is everything. You are everything."

Simon’s arms tightened around you, his lips brushing against your temple. "Good," he said, his voice low and content. "Because I don’t ever plan on letting go."

He shifted slightly, his arms loosening before he leaned forward, scooping you effortlessly into his lap. The movement drew a squeal of surprise from you, quickly followed by laughter.

“Simon!” you exclaimed, swatting lightly at his chest. “You could warn a person before manhandling them like that.”

He chuckled, his hands resting securely on your hips to keep you steady. “I could,” he replied with an easy grin, “but where’s the fun in that?”

You twisted to look up at him, an exaggerated glare on your face. “One of these days, I’m going to get you back for all your mischief, you know.”

Simon’s dark eyes sparkled with amusement as he tilted his head, pretending to consider your words. “Hmm, I suppose I’ll just have to remain on high alert at all times then. Though I have to say, I’m not terribly afraid of your vengeance.”

“Not afraid?” you scoffed, trying and failing to keep a straight face. “You should be!”

“Hm, i’s hard to be intimidated when you’re sitting in my lap like this," Simon teased, leaning in until his nose brushed against yours.

Your cheeks flushed, and you pushed at his chest with a laugh. “You’re impossible!”

“And yet, here you are, willingly sitting in my lap,” he said, his voice smug as he leaned back, pulling you with him.

You rolled your eyes, though the smile tugging at your lips betrayed your amusement.

Simon’s grin softened into something more tender as he rested his chin on your shoulder, his hands sliding to hold yours.

As the two of you fell into an easy rhythm of teasing and quiet moments, the garden around you seemed to hold its breath, basking in the warmth of your shared laughter and affection.

part 7 <

[paperstorm]

Thanks for the tags @whatsintheboxmh @annoyingcloudearthquake @heartstringsduet @henrygrass @thisbuildinghasfeelings and @nisbanisba! This is from Somewhere in a Song, chapter posting tomorrow :)

“Are your parents gonna come to a show?” TK asks, as they toss the empty boxes and napkins and begin to stroll side by side.

Carlos swallows. It’s a complicated question, and something he hasn’t even talked about with Grace. She knows the gist, she knows his parents aren’t as excited about his chosen career path as Carlos wishes they were, but there’s something that always scratches in the back of his skull telling him he shouldn’t be talking about them that way, even if what he’s saying is true. Obligatory respect, maybe a sprinkling of Catholic guilt, Carlos is never sure exactly what causes it. He just knows it makes him feel awful to even consider disparaging them.

“Maybe,” he says, noncommittally.

“Do they live in Austin? We have one there later in the summer.”

“Yeah.” Carlos nods. “Summer is a really busy time, though, for my dad.”

“What does he do?”

“Owns a cattle ranch just outside the city.”

TK’s quiet for a moment, and when Carlos glances over TK’s eyebrows are raised comically.

“What?” Carlos laughs.

“You were raised on a literal cattle ranch?” TK cries.

“Yep.”

“That’s incredible.”

“Is it?”

“Yeah, man, you’re like an actual cowboy, not like all those guys singing about dirt roads and cosplaying as working class when they’re actually a millionaire.”

Carlos cracks up. “Damn, shots fired.”

“Am I wrong?”

“Not entirely, no. Although again, it is my dad’s ranch, not mine.”

TK grins at him. “Even still. I like that you’re authentic.”

“Thanks.” Carlos returns his smile. He’s never thought of it that way. He isn’t resentful of his upbringing but since there are things about it that he wishes were different, he’s never been as proud of it as maybe he should be. He likes the spin TK’s put on it.

“I – sorry, excuse me, you’re …”

Carlos looks up. There’s a young woman standing a few feet away from them, lips parted and cheeks bright pink. She’s staring at TK with wide eyes, and Carlos looks back and forth between them a few times, worried just for a second that she’s another person following TK around the country and showing up at his hotel.

But then she meekly asks, “Are you TK Strand?”

Carlos feels his shoulders lower.

TK nods. “I am, yeah. Hey.”

“Oh my God,” she mutters, head shaking quickly back and forth. She takes a step forward but then quickly backs up. “Sorry. I’m usually not weird.”

Laughing softly and holding out his hand, TK kindly says, “It’s okay. It’s nice to meet you.”

Something inside Carlos seems to melt, as the awestruck fan reaches out and shakes his hand. He knows a little bit about how she feels – awestruck and bowled-over. TK has that effect on people.

“Allison,” she says in a trembling voice.

“Hi, Allison.” TK nods his head to the side. “This is Carlos.”

She looks over and then comically jumps in surprise and blushes an even deeper crimson. “Oh my God. Yes, hi, I’m so sorry, I didn’t even see you. That’s so rude.”

“It’s okay,” Carlos chuckles. In an audible stage-whisper, he tells Allison, “I get it, he’s pretty impressive.”

“Yeah,” she agrees breathlessly.

“Were you at the show last night?” TK asks.

Allison shakes her head quickly. “I’m coming tomorrow.”

“Oh, great. The second night’s always better.”

With a nervous giggle, she folds her hands together and Carlos watches the color drain out of her fingers as she squeezes them. “I saw you on your last tour, you guys were so amazing.”

“Thank you.” TK says it so sincerely, and the imaginary warmth spreads to Carlos’s extremities.

“I – um. Sorry, I won’t take up more of your time, I just …”

“It’s okay, you’re good.”

Taking a breath, Allison’s eyes shine a little brighter in the lights from the streetlamps and her voice shakes as she tells him, “I know this is probably, um, trauma dumping, or whatever, but I just, um. Wanted you to know I started getting help after you went to rehab.”

Carlos glances at TK. His focus is lasered on the fan standing in front of them, a slight down-turn of his mouth but he doesn’t look upset. Maybe overwhelmed.

“I just – you had to deal with so much shit,” Allison babbles, one hand waving anxiously in a circle, “so I just wanted you to know that you also helped people. I thought if you could do it, I could too.”

“I’m so proud of you,” TK tells her, a tiny waver in his voice. “Thank you for telling me that.”

TK takes a step forward and reaches for her hand again. He takes both of them, squeezing and smiling at her, and suddenly Carlos feels very much like an intruder – like he’s eavesdropping on a private, personal moment, and yet he can’t seem to look away.

Tagging @theghostofashton @reyesstrand @strandnreyes @eclectic-sassycoweyes @carlos-in-glasses

@bonheur-cafe @actual-sleeping-beauty @herefortarlos @heartstringsduet @alrightbuckaroo

@goodways @lightningboltreader @emsprovisions @freneticfloetry @liminalmemories21

@reasonandfaithinharmony @ladytessa74 @never-blooms @sanjuwrites @orchidscript

@lemonlyman-dotcom @jesuisici33 @kiwichaeng @honeybee-taskforce @hereghostslive

@just-inside-her @firstprince-history-huh @captain-gillian @tellmegoodbye @ironheartwriter

@butchreyes @anactualcaseofthetruth @ditheringmind @thisbuildinghasfeelings @whatsintheboxmh

@irispurpurea @nisbanisba @corsage @chicgeekgirl89 @nancys-braids

@carlossreaders @denizoid @everlastingday @rangersoup

Want to be added or removed from the list? Lmk

[fangdokja-anon]

MASTERLIST for #fangdokja prompts

♡ Book for Authors. Ink & Insight (I&I): From Dead Dove to Daydreams.

♡ Banner Story. He’s your family, but he doesn’t act like it.

📖 #fangdokja Prompts Masterlist Disclaimer

Welcome, Readers! This collection is curated for fictional writing inspiration and features dark, controversial, and taboo themes. Please read the following carefully before engaging:

⚠️ Content Warnings

🔸 Themes include non-con, incest, rape, torture, stalking, and other dark/taboo topics. 🔸 Suitable only for mature audiences who can separate fiction from reality.

❌ Disclaimer

🔹 This masterlist is for fictional purposes only—as writing prompts and creative resources. 🔹 The content does not reflect my personal beliefs or endorse harmful real-life behaviors. 🔹 Many posts are sourced from real-life thirst/porn blogs, but they are reframed here solely for fictional writing inspiration.

🛑 Your Responsibility

🧠 Ensure you’re in a healthy mindset before engaging with these prompts.

✍️ Use the content responsibly for writing and always include appropriate warnings if you share your work.

🚫 Do not assume endorsement of real-life harm or unsafe practices.

Proceed with caution and enjoy responsibly! 💀📚

♡ Banner Story. 🔞You’re his project, and he’s determined to get you right.

#fangdokja favs Prompts

Bondage Art

Relationships are quite simple

♡ Banner Story. 🔞"I don't need your love, I need your submission."

Age Gap Prompts

hearing "I'm so proud of you"

i luv getting high

need to be taken advantage

one more second without a father

Photography collage

psychological abuse

the age gap being older

they say I'm too young to love you

you have no idea how much i wanna be fucked by old pervs

♡ Banner Story. He was a knight of light… until you turned his world dark.

Brat Taming Prompts

No no, keep that attitude, baby.

♡ Banner Story. She wasn't looking for love, but love wasn't asking for permission.

Conditioning Prompts

"wow, you actually like this shit?"

At least I am better than those fucker who degrade you for your looks, size and color.

control what i eat n what i wear

emotional manipulation

destroying a curious little girl.

Letting you cum, but only from riding my boots.

showing her a video of how her throat looks like with my cock

♡ Banner Story. In a world where no one cares, he’s the one who notices you… and that’s frightening.

Daddy Issues Prompts

dad who starves you all day

I'm literally you're abuser.

The first thing I thought when I turned 18

want people to think you’re my dad

♡ Banner Story. Trust no one. Not even yourself.

Degradation Prompts

commanding her not to cum,

Didn’t your mom tell you not to talk to strangers online?

I will hold you down and force you to take it

if i wanna make you my bitch,

need to abuse a sick, pathetic, worthless little whore

shove your fingers down my throat

♡ Banner Story. He doesn’t love like anyone else—he loves you like you’re the last thing that matters.

Dumbification Prompts

Dumbification with someone that is actually smart outside

♡ Banner Story. He doesn’t need your trust—he just needs your surrender.

Intoxication Prompts

“take another hit”

POV: you’re strapped to a chair, toy on high,

Praising you for every hit so you smoke yourself braindead.

♡ Banner Story. 🔞When he says you're his treasure, he means it—he’ll spill blood, even yours, to keep it.

Masochist Prompts

he wouldn’t hit me if he didn’t care about me

getting yelled at until i cry ?

i get so attached to the smallest bits of attention

i’m so pathetic

i romanticize abuse

It doesn't matter if it hurts, huh?

make me apologize for things i didn’t even do

make me starve

Pretty please? ฅ^•ﻌ•^ฅ

sick men who get off to traumatizing you

Take my abuse with love.

♡ Banner Story. He’ll destroy you—because that’s how much he loves you.

Non-Con Prompts

"Easy, baby" as I push your thrashing torso back to the ground.

All I want to do is drug a good whore

Forcing himself inside me

If you actually wanted me to stop angel

If you're a silly little thing who gets off on the idea of big, mean perverts

It feels so good baby.

Oh baby I know it hurts

When I say I have a rape kink, I don’t mean CNC,

You wanna fuck a serial killer so bad.

♡ Banner Story. You’re his sister, but to him, you’re everything he’ll never let go of.

Older Brother Prompts

Arguing with your big brother

♡ Banner Story. 🔞Will you scream? Or will you beg?

Sadism Prompts

“I am not wet.”

A mutual craving between us.

i like my men mentally ill

I want to give you my address after brutalizing you.

If I slap your face,

older men with a superiority complex

Pulling your head back with a fist full of your hair

Treating a whore as whore

♡ Banner Story. Two hearts, one unspoken promise—forever best friends.

Somnophilia Prompts

I just want to drug you

♡ Banner Story. The predator never leaves empty-handed.

Torture Prompts

Collar and Chains

Darling, There is no "stopping."

I want a basement pet.

Groping your ass so you can't feel the needle.

Tying your hands behind your back and forcing a gas mask bong

[cryngemania]

Any lingering sounds from the city all but vanished, leaving a convincing facade of an actual forest.

Mini world building story under the cut!

Gone.

He was always gone at the worst of times.

What kind of king just up and vanished without telling his advisor where he was going? Martyn groaned in annoyance, shaking his head as he walked down the darkening corridors of the empty citadel. He should have expected this, considering the quiet he was subject to for a majority of the evening; the King was usually one for chatter, either making small talk to one of the seats, whispered remarks to himself, or offering any comments whenever an awkward silence filled the air. His boots clacked against the tile floor, the dusk giving way to almost a sheer darkness where the stars could finally come to play. It was surprising that the town got any stars at all, considering the population, but Lizzie had done well at trying to keep the city healthy, even if that meant using candles at night rather than the lights more often than not.

The walls that the second-in-command passed were filled with various paintings or photographs of historical events; the origins of the town, first council meeting– As he walked, Martyn felt himself hesitating as he passed the photo on his left; the first of two crownings that the city had held. A king, they had decided. Martyn snorted, picking his pace back up as he looked away from the frame, eyes darting away from the two children in the background. He had a man to find, whether he wanted to be found or not. He would not be getting away with making Martyn sit in alone to one of the most boring guild meetings he could have been in.

The air was crisp and shocking as Martyn stepped out of the building, the chill taking some of his urgency and locking it back in the meeting rooms behind him. He made his way down the stairs, the great wooden door of the citadel slamming shut behind him. In this part of town, it always felt the most like home to the man; the fountain at the center of town had been one of the first “upgrades” that had been made since the town’s growth, a commemoration of the well that the early settlers used. Martyn knew a lot of various tidbits of knowledge about the town, something he was quite proud of. He had to pay back his debt somehow.

His pace quickened as he wandered through the winding roads of the town, the brisk summer night sending a chill down his spine. Autumn would be coming soon, a passing thought to match the passing street lamps, glowing dimly in the near-abandoned city streets. Through alleys, down winding staircases, Martyn made his way through the historical district, growing more and more certain that he knew where his lord was. To his side, the great clock tower chimed a quiet tune, marking the end of the 10th hour. Why was this man even out so late? Martyn shook his head as he drew closer to his destination; why was anything that man did what he chose to do? He was an enigma, had been for as long as Martyn had known him. Unpredictable, out of pocket, and overall a goofball. 

Lizzie, the elected seat for environmental specialisation (Martyn himself considered the group the town janitors), had made the decision that due to the size and nature of the town, and for the benefit of the canals to “actually touch grass,” there needed to be more parks in the city. What she had meant, which Martyn hadn’t expected, but the king was all in for, were little patches of forest strewn about the town that some canals could run through as a pseudo-river. Martyn himself hadn’t had the time to go investigating in any of these pockets of the wilderness, the city had loved the idea, pushing for more greenery mixed in with the mechanical workings that everyone was surrounded with. Those sorts of greenery the advisor had seen. Vines up buildings, gardens on roofs, it did add a sort of overgrown beauty to the town. He hadn't much time to look at those beyond his normal route, either. 

However, he knew that his liege had. And, he knew that the man loved the areas. Martyn walked through the winding paths through the patch of forest, looking around for any sign of the king. Of course, the area had to be dense with trees; he’d have to walk the whole place just to check everywhere. Which is what he did. In a sense, it was a bit relaxing; with the canals trailing a majority of the paths, any lingering sounds from the city all but vanished, leaving a convincing facade of an actual forest. Maybe that was why he liked it, the thought lingering in the back of Martyn’s head as he slowed his pace a bit, taking in the area a bit more. It felt like an escape.

He had walked all but two paths before he saw anyone else. The man sat on a bench near the bend of the trail, another small canal trailing beneath the seat; had Martyn not been paying attention, he would have walked right past him. The man looked to be asleep, long hair trailing for a bit before ending up in the hood of the man’s cloak. He seemed peaceful. As Martyn drew near, the man opened an eye, blue meeting blue. Ren didn’t seem to react, simply closing his eye again and leaning his head back. 

“Have fun with your meeting?” Ren asked plainly as Martyn came to a stop next to the bench. Martyn just snorted, earning a chuckle from the man. “Can’t have been that bad.”

The advisor shook his head. “You’re supposed to tell me when you’re going to vanish,” he responded. “We had a deal.”

Ren opened his eye again, looking towards his second in command. “Thought I left a note.”

“‘Be back soon’ with an abandoned crown doesn’t read the way you think it does.” 

Nodding, Ren hummed a response and folded his arms. Martyn stood next to the bench, looking around the park for a moment before turning back to his companion. “We should be heading back, my lord.” Ren audibly sighed; he had made his distaste of the formalities known as soon as Martyn started doing it, but Martyn made it clear that they were on two different levels, thus formalities were required. Not for lack of trying to get him to stop, short of royal decree, on Ren’s part.

“I think,” Ren eventually started, removing the shades from his face, “we can stay here for a bit longer.”

Martyn just looked at the man. “Sir, you’ve—”

“You haven’t. You’ve been here for about ten minutes.”

“It's eleven at night.”

“And? We don’t have any meetings until noon.” Ren grinned, canines sharp against the moonlight. “Unless you scheduled me for another 8AM one.”

There was a beat of silence. Sighing, Martyn all but fell into the bench, taking a seat next to the king. “No,” he eventually responded. “But I will if you vanish again.”

“Clearly, Martyn,” Ren retorted, “I didn’t vanish well if you found me.”

“That’s not the point.”

Ren sighed, once again leaning back, taking in the stars above them. It was peaceful at night, one of the few places of refuge he could have. Martyn knew it, he knew Ren’s thoughts, hell, he had grown up with the man, he could tell you almost anything he would say or do with a certain level of accuracy that nobody save for Ren’s father could compete with. He did feel bad, always trying to reign the king in. But that was his job. It was what he was supposed to do.

Martyn flinched as something flicked his forehead, his thoughts a jumble as he looked over to the man next to him. Ren stared at him, blue eyes scanning as his hand hovered in the air, poised for another flick if so needed. “Dude,” he started. “Get out of your head.”

“I-”

“No.”

“Sir–”

Ren rolled his eyes, folding his arms. “Listen, dude, midnight means I don’t have to be king right now, and you don’t have to be lieutenant. So stop worrying like one for five minutes and just chill out.”

With a huff, Martyn folded his arms. “Y’know, what if I don’t want to chill out?” 

“Then you can sit and consider your problems in silence.” 

A beat of silence.

“I was kidding,” Ren eventually commented. His leg bounced, balanced on his opposing knee. He was always moving, in some way; Martyn couldn’t recall a time when Ren wasn’t moving in some subtle or obvious way. “Do you remember when we convinced my dad to let us go camping?”

“You mean when we slept in your garden?”

“It was still camping,” the man responded. “Two kids under the stars, fire in the air—“

The advisor chuckled. “Sir, you sound like—“

Ren could see how the sentence ended before his friend finished it. “Hey. If my father can move to the Outskirts when he gets old and just live life, then I can live life that same way.”

“My lord, your father was in his sixties and had no ties to the crown once you were instated. There’s a bit of a difference.”

The man just sighed. “I’m not just a king, Martyn. You understand that, right?”

Martyn made eye contact with the king, blue eyes practically glowing in the dark. “Of course I do,” Martyn responded. He could see the disbelief in his friend’s eyes. It was something Martyn had decided long before Ren took the throne, the formalities, but he thought they were necessary. Being advisor to the king meant so much more to him than he could possibly imagine, something he was guaranteed near the second “soon to be king” Orion Volkov had seen him. It was his way to pay back the debt he owed to the family, and he wasn’t going to let something so trivial come between that.

And Ren could see the thoughts running through Martyn’s head as he sighed, standing up and stretching out before looking out towards the city surrounding them. “Alright. You win, dude. King never takes a break.” He started along the trail, not looking behind him as Martyn stood, stretching his pace to match the King’s stride. “Remind me what my meetings are for tomorrow.”

“Well, you have a…”

[secretly-tword-obsessed]

The Front Man Interferes

Hello Gigglers!

This is a fic I wrote because @estelle-skully wanted some lee!thanos content. Iv'e really wanted to write for Squid Game in a while, (and her HC's are so cute), so I thought I'd give it a go.

Sorry in advance for the mischaracterization, I've only really watched the season once but I did try my best.

Summary: In-Ho notices that Thanos is enjoying the games too much. He thinks the rapper needs to be taught a lesson.

Warning - this is a TICKLE FIC. If you are not a tickle blog pls DO NOT REBLOG. If you think tickle fics are cringe, just don't read it.

It was just another regular day for Thanos and his new buddy Nam Gyu. Well, at least as regular as it could be considering their situation. But there was one other thing - one hardly noticeable thing - that made this day abnormal.

Thanos felt successful.

He always looked successful. Rapping, prancing around, flirting without a single stutter. But this time he actually felt that confident vibe he gave off. And not because of the drugs.

Little did he know that somebody else caught on to this shift. A man who was observant enough to tell the fake carefree Thanos and the real carefree Thanos apart. And it wasn't his new friend, Nam Gyu.

In-Ho - otherwise known as the Frontman - had been observing Thanos' movements and behavior. He had watched him in Red Light Green Light - skipping along in ways that seemed incredibly dangerous. His smugness when he smashed the 'O' button. His little victory dance when the O's had won.

People weren't supposed to enjoy these games. They were meant to be exhilarated, but not in a positive way. They certainly weren't meant to feel like winners - merely like non-losers. The Frontman had a malicious desire to disrupt Thanos' spirit, to crack open this seemingly indestructible influencer for his own entertainment.

Nam Gyu and Thanos were playing a game where they guessed what their fellow players would spend their prize money on - which they wouldn't receive of course. The two of them were going to be the sole winners, and split the cash 50/50.

"Hey, what do you reckon player 001 would do with all that green?", Nam Gyu asked.

Thanos rubbed his chin and made another one of those absurd expressions which made Nam Gyu chuckle.

"That sad-looking one probably wants his own little cottage in the woods". Thanos said this in an exaggerated baby voice, not knowing that In-Ho was standing behind him. Nam Gyu hadn't said anything - he wanted to see what would happen.

"Oh really, is that what you think of me?", In-ho said in a menacingly soft tone, making Thanos jump. This caused his buddy to burst out laughing and Thanos' face to go red with agitation.

"You heard me!", Thanos snapped, standing up and stepping before the man he didn't know was the puppet master of him and his fellow players.

In-Ho chuckled, "Why are you getting so combative?"

This infuriated Thanos further, and he pushed In-Ho backwards, snapping "Fuck off sad-face".

In-Ho just shook his head and kept chuckling, regaining his balance impressively quickly.

"Your always so proud Thanos, always think your the best. You see every interaction as a competition of superiority".

In-Ho could practically see the smoke coming out of Thanos' ears. That was step one - getting on his nerves. Now it was time for step two - crumbling his narcissism. Bringing him down a few pegs.

"Your not responding because you know it's true", the Frontman grinned, causing Thanos to lash out at him again. In-Ho, with his lightning reflexes, jabbed a finger into Thanos' side and wiggled it gently, causing the rapper to miss his planned attack - whatever it was - and jump backwards with a squeak.

There was silence for a few moments. In-Ho looked to Nam-Gyu, who seemed to be holding back laughter. Perfect.

"Oh", In-Ho finally said after the silence that felt like an eternity, "I'm sorry, just self defense". He walked away, feeling accomplished.

When In-Ho left, Nam Gyu finally spoke, "Are you t-"

"No!", Thanos interrupted, although his trembling posture and pink cheeks told a different story.

Nam Gyu's mouth opened in disbelief - "No-ho! No way! You totally are!"

Thanos didn't have a retort. All he could do was feign confidence.

"I can't believe it!", his buddy said, getting more enthusiastic, "You! Of all people! I would expect it from somebody childish like that 456 guy, but you!"

Thanos felt like he could melt into the floor. That was when Nam Gyu started mocking him.

"Imagine that in a rap! I'm a legend, with my rapping and stuff. But if you touch my sides, I might just laugh"

"Enough!", Thanos finally snapped, "You shut up right now or I'll-"

He was interupted by another poke to his sides. This one made him jump with a high pitched "Heehee!"

Nam Gyu looked like he'd won the lottery. And Thanos, for the first time in his life, went with his flight reflex and ran. He bolted across the room, causing many players to lift their heads up and watch the display. Nam Gyu ran behind him, laughing manically.

"Hey, I wonder what those two are up too", Jung Bae said, sitting in a semicircle with his new allies. In-Ho smirked, "You'll see".

Thanos was finally caught by his treacherous new friend, and tackled to the ground.

"Ow!", he said, banging his head gently on the ground. "What the fuck ma- NAHAHAHA!"

The purple-haired boy burst into hysterical laughter, throwing his head back as Nam Gyu squeezed his hips with one hand and ribs with the other.

"Whoah!", Nam Gyu remarked with the biggest smile on his face, making it impossible to contain his excitement, "This is unbelievable!"

Thanos tossed and turned and kicked his legs, making Nam Gyu pin him down by sitting on his hips, moving both of his hands to scribble under the poor rapper's arms.

"No point trying to escape man, your efforts are futile", Nam Gyu teased, watching as Thanos tried to give an expression that was even a semblance of threatening through his face-wide grin and roaring laughter.

"FUHUHUHUCK OHOHOFF MAHAHHAHAN! I SWEHEHEAR! YOOUR DEHEHEHEAD!"

Nam Gyu smirked to himself, "Sure, whatever you say Mr.Confident".

Thanos laughter went higher pitched as Nam Gyu experimented with his sides, where he was initially poked, and changed his tactics to tracing circles. As if on command, Thanos' desperate cackles turned into light giggles.

"Nahahaha", he protested, trying to lean to the left to crush his assaulter's hand, to no avail.

"Oh my shit, this is adorable", Nam Gyu remarked, hardly even meaning it to be a tease, but it made Thanos' cheeks go a shade darker nonetheless.

As Thanos tossed and turned, he couldn't think of anything. Not his pride. Not his deeply buried fears and anxieties. Just those damn fingers making him fall to pieces. He let out a loud gasp as his attacker hit a particularly sensitive spot on the side of his right rib, making Nam Gyu concentrate all of his energy on that spot.

"PLEHEHEASE!", he begged.

"Wow, looks like Ive' gotten the all mighty Thanos begging-"

Now the teases were definitely intentional. Not that Thanos minded too much. Due to his absurdly extraverted persona, he didn't have many real friends, only shallow ones, ones that were drawn to the life of the party. But this level of playfulness and intimacy had been alien to him - this lighthearted banter between friends. Real friends.

In-Ho watched the whole scene from across the room, awfully pleased with himself. It seemed like the rapper had been taken down a notch.

"Wow, who'd have guessed Thanos would be ticklish", Jung-Bae said in awe.

"I did", In-Ho admitted, "I got sick of his bragging and wanted a way to both shut him up and embarrass him at the same time. I assumed he'd be ticklish somewhere cause, come on, everyone is, and I revealed that to his current attacker".

Jung-Bae considered this. Dae-Ho saw it as an opportunity.

"Wait, so if everyone's ticklish, you must be too In-Ho".

Well, it seemed like the Frontman's plan backfired.

Hope you enjoyed!

[paper-possum-party-pal]

Here’s something I created back in 2023! I remember this being the first piece of fanart that I managed to create a proper background for and finish. It’s a little wonky looking at it now but I’m still proud with how it turned out!

For some added context as to why The Narrator looks like that, back in middle school I had this idea for a disease that would slowly turn people to stone. I thought out how it affected the body, quarantine and treatment methods, and stages of infection. It acted a bit like the zombie-ant fungus, where it would drive people to freeze in different poses as they turned to stone. And while I didn’t know it while I was making it, when I told my father about the quarantine methods I’d come up with and he mentioned that it was similar to the quarantine methods of tuberculosis.

Anyways, I decided I was gonna turn The Narrator to stone and thought, what if during the epilogue after the skip, Stanley was wandering around and found The Narrator’s old office and found him completely turned to stone, so I made this. Enjoy!

[lightningflvsh]

redraw of my first ever hal fanart <3 i know a lot more about him now than i did then lol

[scatterbrainedbot]

redraw of one of my very first tmnt drawings!!

had meant to do it exactly the one year later mark, but i blinked and suddenly april was may was june -- so ended up being more like a year and 1.5 months lol

May 11th, 2024 vs. April 6th, 2023

its so funny seeing them nest to each other now, but i remember when i finished the first version last year, i was so proud to have finally made a proper 'finished' piece.

like, yall, i struggled for years to every be able to create a piece i would ever call close to 'done'. part of that is me being a very knit-picky kinda person, and wanted to continue to tweak everything all of the time forever, but on top of that i also do work slow af, and before last year i didnt really have access to any digital media. and i love traditional mediums, but im defintiely not practiced enough to be able to get the results i was looking for with any sort of speed. like im genuinely not sure i created a single 'finished' work in my life -- not in school, not in work, not even in the free space of silly fandom doodles.

and then this piece happened!

and i knew even then that it was messy and rough af, but it had a background!! and color!! sure, the linework wasnt polished at all but still, for a silly little fanart? it was defined enough to distinguish the separate characters, and read expressions! there was even a little tiny bit of lighting!! i hate lighting!!

seeing the two versions side by side honestly i kinda have to laugh at how Rough the first version looks now. but you know what. im still so so proud of it. the colors are muddy, theres no shift in value; their clothing designs arent at all defined, leos teeth look weird af and theres lines on caseys face that are definitely from me accidentally dragging my fingers across the tablet when i didnt mean to but like. its there! its finished! i did it!

idk. ive never had a piece ive ever wanted to hang on my own fridge before. :)

[buwheal]

YAYYYYYY Birthday cake for the birthday boooyyyyyy hooray 46!!!!!!!!!! Made him a cake cause he deserves it :^D

#1 Salesman 1997 !!!!

....look familiar perhaps..?

[coern-art-very-cool-and-nice]

im proud of the lighting on this one reference on the right 👉 (btw, if anybody knows the image source pls lmk!! I'd like to give credit if necessary)

[imerian]

Aaaaand i decided to post more of my f1 crafts here so here landoscar edition (⁠｡⁠•̀⁠ᴗ⁠-⁠)⁠✧

Onse again photo without doodles under cut and some rambling in tags

[pealingpetals]

"you got it boss"

[eluwunia]

sukuna sketch tehe :3

[bluesicle]

digital art is kinda draining 4 me,,,

(rambling in the tags ↓↓↓)