#by the way i wanted to say that i really adore your art and you seem super cool!!!

[xinganhao]

🍨 svt spoiling their partner.

★ prompt: how ot13 spoils their partner? 🥹🥹🥹 i am just a girl give me treats c/o @shinwonderful

ⓘ established relationship, pet names, fluff. headcanons under the cut. special thanks to @chugging-antiseptic-dye for helping! ♡

🍨 read more?

seungcheol 𖹭 planning dates. he will refuse to let you lift a finger for your day out. everything will be meticulously laid out, finetuned to be something that you'll enjoy. his goal is to lessen the mental load of decision-making and planning; he wants you to be able to focus solely on enjoying the surprise, and he'll break his back to make sure that happens.

jeonghan 𖹭 'parallel play'. even if the two of you might not be interested in the same things, that's okay. he's happiest to spend quality time with you at home, where the two of you are free to do your own thing within eachother's presence. just being in your vicinity already makes him content, and so he plans everything around the two of you getting to explore and share your respective hobbies.

shua 𖹭 acts of service. need help with your taxes? need someone to fill up your tank? he's already on it. he'll say that these are all 'little things', call it the bare minimum, when it's apparent that he makes it a conscious effort to make your day-to-day easier. his brand of spoiling you comes in the form of quietly doing things that will improve your quality of life.

junhui 𖹭 buying clothes you'll like. he can't help it, really. when he sees an article of clothing that he thinks suits your style? when he finds a local brand that shares your advoacy? he's already pulling out his wallet. he likes the idea of dressing you up. nothing makes him happier than knowing you're wearing an outfit that he entirely picked out for you.

soonyoung 𖹭 daily reasons why he loves you. people always joke that he has a bit of a motormouth, so why shouldn't he use it on talking about you, you, you? he's big on words of affirmation, on making sure you never doubt how he feels for you. he'll point out the little and big things that make him adore you, and it's never the same reason twice.

wonwoo 𖹭 indulging your interests. he may not always understand these trends— blind boxes, must-have fashion pieces, et cetera— but he'll never make you feel bad about it. if there's anything that you want, he's already doing everything within his power to get it. his greatest joy is seeing your face light up once he's gotten you your 'priority' item; it's why he keeps doing it in the first place.

jihoon 𖹭 trying new things for you. there's a long list of things that jihoon never thought he'd do, but then he started dating you. time and time again, he willingly goes out of his comfort zone to accompany you on the little adventures and experiences that you ask to go on. he does these things scared, does them anxious, does them begrudgingly,— does them all for you.

seokmin 𖹭 meals he thinks you'll like. he's the type to have dozens of tabs open for homemade recipes dot com. he knows he's an amateur at this, but he's undeterred in trying. whether it's a trending pastry on tiktok or the comfort meal that your mother makes you, he's determined to learn it so you're always eating well.

mingyu 𖹭 getting-to-know card games. he gives as good as he takes, which means mingyu's way is to listen and remember. a night where the two of you can just have deep conversations with no interruptions is his ideal evening. he will know he succeeded if the two of you end up talking until the sun rises, feeling like the hours haven't passed at all.

minghao 𖹭 postcards from tour stops. he loves art and he loves you. his postcards are pocket-sized reminders of those facts, always packaged with a few choice words that are sweet and sincere. his trinkets are very "i-got-you-this-because-it-reminded-me-of-you" in nature, and you know each one was purchased with you at the front of mind.

seungkwan 𖹭 getting you your favorites. he figures he should put his industry connections to use somehow. he's always amused by how happy you get over a rare photocard, signed album, or concert tickets, and so he keeps it up. buying dozens of albums, contacting other labels, bearing the arduous ticketing. your excitement at the end of it makes it all worth it.

vernon 𖹭 producing songs. he hadn't really pegged himself as the making-music-for-the-sake-of-it type until he met you. now, he revels in getting to send you a track that's for your ears only. all the lyrics just seems to flow naturally when it's you inspiring him, and so he sends you works-in-progress with reminders that you're the only intended audience.

chan 𖹭 at-home massages. he's all too familiar with the aches of an ailing body, so he knows exactly how and where to work on you. he always does what he calls 'the works'— a good bath, scented candles, essential oils. he lets you take your time, and he takes his time with you in helping you unwind.

› scroll through all my work ദ്ദി ˉ͈̀꒳ˉ͈́ )✧ ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 .ᐟ my masterlist | @xinganhao

[notherpuppet]

Hi! Question here that pop in my brain and got me curious about QPR since that is the main relationship of My Deer Nanny.

Ok, im in a hetero relationship and reading more and more radioapple has really opened my eyes to those on the Ace spectrum and the types of relationships presented jn stories, thank you Alastor for that.

Ok. So the relationship is not sexual in nature, more emotional intimacy right? So, how does falling in love feel for those in a QPR? So many of us tie falling jn love with the sexual aspect as well, especially in stories, I'm interested in learning about the other side of it. With Al and Luci, are we going to see them fall in love? (The more than anything panel with Al's reaction had me wondering)

Don't worry, I'm not gonna ask a out sex, I really enjoy the relationship in the story as QPR, and I'm super into smut, it's my go to, but I discovered QPR though this story and love it just as much as some of the other stuff I read.

Not...really sure if my question is clear...

How does emotional intimacy grow in a QPR when only 1 partner is Ace or heck, even both? How does it differ from "typical" relationships where the physical and emotional intimacy develop, if they even differ at all?

Hiiii, so imma start off with leaving this link here: QPR info

And I wanna say everyone has their own individual experiences. Language is a lovely tool, but it has its limitations. Especially with matters of the heart and mind.

In My Deer Nanny, my intention is to depict a relationship where Alastor and Lucifer grow to love each other, but it’s not “falling in love”.

So much of the fun of making this AU is using characters I adore to spotlight different depictions of love. I experience love like-every day! It’s great! (Family, friends, music, art, hobbies, and mostly my love for radioapple lol).

In the most recent post, I wanted to show Alastor’s sincere love for music intersecting with his surprise over Lucifer’s musical talent. For anyone who is also a music lover, I’m sure you have experienced the enchantment of live music and the chills you can get from an exceptional vocalist. 🤩🤤🎶

My Deer Nanny is a radioapple AU, so it is focused on the love and bond developing between Lucifer and Alastor. It’s not romantic love, but maybe a way to describe my approach could be “platonic love romanticized”??? Hmmm

IDK IF THAT MAKES SENSE BUT THANK YOU FOR YOUR QUESTION 🥰

[archivequinn]

I loved your breaking up angst fic! Can I request an angst with a happy ending fic.

Eddie and Reader get into an argument and he does a really sweet gesture to make up for it.

I love your fics and always look forward to reading them when they pop up on my dashboard 🥰

Hello lovely! I hope your day is going very well. Your kind words make me very happy and I'm glad you like my fic. I wish I was able to write a fic like you wanted and I hope you enjoy reading it. I look forward to your comments. 🩷

Summary: Eddie forgets about your anniversary and makes up the night for you after you argue with him. angst to happy ending, fluff.

credit for dividers: @saradika-graphics

While waiting for Eddie to come home, you excitedly rolled up your sleeves to prepare for a day that would make him feel how special it was to you. Since the morning, there had been only one thought on your mind: celebrating your anniversary perfectly. You decided to prepare everything with both great care and love to make it flawless.

First, you headed to the kitchen. You thought about Eddie's favorite dishes: maybe the creamy pasta he's loved since childhood, or that amazing dessert you both recently discovered together. You took out the ingredients from the fridge and carefully began the preparations. As the clinking sounds of pots and pans filled the kitchen, you imagined how the evening would unfold. Once the food was ready, you elegantly plated it—creating a meal Eddie could never say no to.

Afterward, you moved on to setting the dinner table. You chose a soft champagne-colored tablecloth, something both romantic and elegant. On top, you placed tall white candles. When the idea of decorating the candles with red rose petals crossed your mind, a sweet sparkle lit up in your eyes. Once the petals were scattered across the table, it transformed into a work of art. The plates and silverware were meticulously arranged—every detail thoughtfully designed so Eddie would notice how much effort you'd put into this.

Next, it was time to get yourself ready. You picked that stunning dress—the one you were sure Eddie couldn't take his eyes off of every time he saw you wearing it. A long, elegant gown... perhaps black satin or one with lace details in a deep burgundy—whatever you chose, you felt incredible in it. As the dress brushed lightly against the floor, you twirled in front of the mirror and smiled at your reflection.

You began applying your makeup. A subtle eyeliner to highlight your eyes, a warm pink blush on your cheeks, and that favorite lipstick you loved. Once your makeup was finished, the mirror didn't just reflect your image; it showed someone who would absolutely take Eddie’s breath away. You styled your hair the way Eddie always adored: maybe natural waves or an elegant updo—whichever you chose, you felt absolutely beautiful at that moment.

For the background music, you put on the playlist you and Eddie had created together. Your favorite songs as a couple brought back happy memories one by one. The metal riffs resonated with the energy Eddie always brought whenever he picked up his guitar. But the playlist also had one or two slow, romantic songs Eddie had sneakily added as a surprise for you. Remembering how Eddie had thought of you while making this playlist brought an uncontrollable smile to your face.

When everything was finally ready, you gave the living room one last glance. The table glowed in the candlelight, soft music played in the background, and the delicious aroma of food filled the air. And of course, there was you—prepared and brimming with excitement for this special moment. Thinking about the expression on Eddie’s face as he walked through the door helped calm your nerves just a little.

The hours ticked by, and Eddie’s arrival was drawing closer. Everything was set, and now all that was left was to wait for him. Before greeting him, you took a few deep breaths and checked your reflection in the mirror one last time. Tonight had to be unforgettable.

Hours had passed. At first, you eagerly waited for the moment Eddie would walk through the door, but over time, anticipation slowly turned into despair. You had meticulously prepared the meal, elegantly decorated the table, and considered every detail, yet Eddie was nowhere to be found. Your phone remained silent; no messages, no explanations. It silently tore at you.

Initially, you tried to console yourself. "Maybe he’s stuck in traffic," you thought. "Maybe work ran late, but he’ll definitely come." However, as the hours dragged on, disappointment began to set in. You were hungry but kept waiting for Eddie. You didn’t know how much longer you could hold out. Finally, letting go of your dream of sitting down and sharing the meal with him, you reached for the food on the table. The first bite felt like a lump stuck in your throat; this was a meal you were eating alone. The candles in the center of the table were still burning, but instead of a romantic ambiance, the flickering light filled the room with a melancholy loneliness.

When the meal was over, your hand reached for the wine bottle. "I’ll have a glass or two; it’ll help me relax," you thought. With the first sip, memories of clinking glasses with Eddie flashed before your eyes. Glass after glass, the wine bottle on the table was soon halfway empty.

The makeup on your face started to feel like a burden weighing on you. You hurried to the mirror and wiped it off. Staring at your bare face in the mirror, you noticed the disappointment etched into your eyes. The hair you had styled so carefully just hours ago was now disheveled, and your spirit was completely drained.

Now, you sat alone at the head of the table. Your eyes grew heavy with fatigue, yet you couldn’t bring yourself to give up waiting. "Maybe the door will open any moment now," you thought. Resting your head on the table, everything began to blur like a dream under the dim, flickering candlelight. The wine’s slight haze made your eyelids grow heavier.

At that moment, the lock on the door turned. Eddie stepped inside with his key, noticing the smell of wine that filled the room and the candles nearly burned out. As he took a step into the room, he saw the remains of the meal on the table, the wine bottle nearly empty, and you, with your head resting on the table, dozing off. His eyes scanned the details on the table in surprise: the elegant arrangement, the rose petals, the half-melted candles, and you sitting there in silence. Eddie’s expression changed rapidly—surprise, guilt, and a hint of panic flickered across his face.

He stepped quietly, trying not to disturb you, and approached you cautiously. "Sweetheart…?" he called softly, but as he saw your eyes fluttering open, he crouched down beside your chair. "What happened here? Are you… are you okay?" he asked, looking at you with concern.

You brought your hands to your face and groaned lightly, still groggy from sleep. For a brief moment, Eddie’s puzzled expression mingled with your own. But as the depth of your sadness and disappointment resurfaced in your mind, you let out a deep, sorrowful breath. "Why were you so late?" you murmured, your voice slightly cracked, tinged with a trace of reproach.

Eddie’s face grew more serious. "I’m sorry… work ran late, and I lost track of time," he explained, raising his hands in helplessness. "But… what’s all this? The table? The candles? What’s it for?"

Seeing how unaware he was only amplified the depth of your disappointment. You fixed your eyes on him, but for a while, no words came out. Eddie could sense that there was a storm brewing beneath your silence. "What’s wrong? Please, tell me," he said, more insistently this time, but still in a gentle tone.

Finally, you took a deep breath and spoke the truth. "Today was our anniversary, Eddie," you said, the words feeling as if they were stuck in your throat. "And you forgot." Your voice was calm, but the hurt it carried was enough to devastate Eddie. His eyes widened, his hands trembled for a moment, and deep regret etched itself onto his face.

“Oh… no,” he whispered, rubbing his forehead with one hand. When he raised his eyes from the table back to you, it seemed as though he finally understood all your preparations, your effort, and ultimately, your broken heart.

"Sweetheart, I’m so sorry. I forgot… no, how could I forget something like this?" he muttered, his voice cracking. But you turned your head away, avoiding his gaze.

Eddie stood before you, his face filled with remorse. Meanwhile, you avoided his eyes with a look that was both hurt and a little angry. You glanced briefly at the melted candles on the table, the empty wine bottle, and the darkened plates, then turned back to Eddie. As you tried to suppress your disappointment, his guilt-ridden expression only hurt you more.

"How could you forget something like this, Eddie?" you said, your tone now unrestrained in its hurt. "I mean… our anniversary… It was something special. And you..." You had done everything for him, planned the entire evening, but he… he had forgotten. This reality made you feel worthless.

Eddie took a deep breath and ran a hand through his hair as if trying to straighten his thoughts. "I know, you’re right. But work has been so busy, and I lost track of time. I could have called, yes. But—" he began, but you raised a hand to stop him.

"You lost track of time?" you snapped, your brows furrowed. "I planned the entire day, hour by hour. I set up the table, cooked the food, played your favorite playlist. But what did you do? You just showed up late. You didn’t even call to let me know." Tears began to well up in your eyes, but you didn’t want to appear weak in front of Eddie. So, you quickly wiped them away and took a deep breath.

Eddie spread his hands, his voice filled with regret but also tinged with helplessness. "Sweetheart, I didn’t realize how important this was. If I had known—"

"If you had known?" you interjected, your voice rising. Eddie, with his usual calm demeanor, tried to absorb your anger, but that only made you more furious. "Eddie, this is our anniversary! How many times did we talk about it? How many times did you say, ‘Let’s go all out this year’? And what happened?" By the time you finished your sentence, you were nearly out of breath.

Eddie lowered his head, his gaze falling to the floor. It was a gesture he always made when he felt guilty. But instead of calming you, it only fueled your frustration. "Yes, I forgot," he finally said, his tone quiet and subdued. "And it’s entirely my fault. But… please, try to understand. Work… my mind has been all over the place. There’s just been so much going on..."

"There’s always an excuse, isn’t there?" you said, getting up abruptly and pacing around the table. Eddie flinched slightly at your movement. "Eddie, just one day, just a few hours—was it so hard for me to be your top priority? Was it so impossible to set your work aside and put me first?"

Eddie’s eyes softened as he heard the slight tremor in your voice, but you were too angry to notice just yet. "I… I let you down, I know. But I don’t want to make you feel unimportant. Because to me, you’re… everything," he said. However, his words weren’t enough to soothe you in that moment.

"Yes, Eddie, and the person you call your 'everything' was left alone on an anniversary," you retorted. "How ironic, isn’t it?" Your eyes filled with tears again, but this time, you chose to stay silent, not wanting to say anything you might regret. You sat back down and moved away from Eddie as he tried to reach for you.

Eddie took a deep breath and nodded slightly. "Look, you’re right. You’re completely right. But please, give me a chance. I’ll make it up to you tonight. Just hear me out."

Eddie stepped closer. "I’ll do whatever it takes. I can’t stand seeing you this upset," he said, placing his hands gently near yours.

In that moment, beneath your hurt, you still felt the love you had for Eddie. But you weren’t ready to show it to him just yet. "Let’s see what you’ll do, Eddie Munson," you murmured. "It’s going to take a real miracle to make up for tonight."

Eddie tried to smile, but the guilt was still evident on his face. "I’ll make that miracle happen," he said with determination.

He paused for a moment, and a familiar mischievous smile appeared on his face. As you raised an eyebrow and looked at him skeptically, Eddie had already started heading toward the kitchen.

"Eddie, what are you doing?" you asked, following after him. But he was already in the middle of the kitchen, rummaging through the cabinets and opening and closing the fridge. When you saw a plate of chocolate, some flour, and milk on the counter, your eyebrows arched even higher.

"I’m going to make something for you with my own hands. How about some chocolate pancakes?" he said, a hopeful expression in his eyes. You rolled your eyes and crossed your arms over your chest. "Chocolate pancakes at midnight? Eddie, seriously?"

"Yes, seriously. I’ll do whatever it takes to bring your smile back," he said as he started organizing the kitchen like a professional chef. You watched him, trying to keep the serious expression on your face, but Eddie’s clumsiness was mildly amusing. When a bit of flour ended up in his hair, you struggled to suppress a small smile.

As Eddie mixed the ingredients, your playlist continued playing in the background. When one of your favorite songs came on, Eddie stopped stirring and turned to you. "Okay, wait, isn’t this our song?" he said excitedly, extending a hand toward you.

"What are you doing, Eddie?" you asked, trying to maintain your stern expression.

"There’s a way to make this better," he said, taking your hand. "Would you do me the honor of dancing with me, my lady? Let’s make the rest of this night a little brighter." "Eddie, weren’t you making pancakes?" you asked, but he had already pulled you into the middle of the kitchen. As the song continued to play, Eddie’s warm hands found their way around your waist. "A quick break, then the pancakes will be ready," he whispered, spinning you gently.

At first, you hesitated, but you couldn’t resist the affectionate look on Eddie’s face. Even the creaking sound of the old wooden floor beneath your feet as you moved to the rhythm somehow became endearing. "You can’t win me over that easily," you murmured, but the way Eddie held you close softened your heart.

As the final notes of the song played, Eddie rested his forehead against yours. In his eyes, you saw a mix of regret and love. "I’ll do better for you. I promise," he said softly.

In that moment, you felt that Eddie was truly trying, that he genuinely wanted to make things right. The anger within you started to melt away, though you weren’t ready to forgive him just yet. "If the pancakes are good, maybe I’ll consider it," you said with a small smile. Eddie immediately dashed back to the kitchen, grabbing the mixing bowl.

Five minutes later, Eddie returned to the table with a plate in hand. The pancakes weren’t exactly masterpieces—they were a bit uneven and slightly overcooked—but the chocolate sauce he had drizzled on top made them look sweet enough. As you sat down, you took the fork he offered you.

"This is the best I can do for now, but next time, I’ll whip up something worthy of a pastry chef. Promise," he said, watching intently as you took your first bite. Eddie’s eyes stayed on you, his expression a mix of nervousness and hope.

"They’re not bad," you said, taking another bite. Eddie exhaled deeply and burst out laughing. "Not bad? That’s the highest compliment I’ve ever received!"

As you chuckled lightly, Eddie walked around the table to sit beside you. "Seeing you smile like this… it’s worth the world to me," he said, taking a bite of his own pancake.

The night began to feel normal again. When Eddie offered his hand, you hesitated at first but then took it with a faint smile. "Eddie, you really are the most stubborn and sweetest man in the world, you know that, don’t you?" you said. Eddie winked and pulled you back toward the living room.

Another song started playing from the playlist in the background—this one from the first night you two had danced together. Eddie gave you his signature mischievous look and gently pulled you closer.

"This song," he whispered, "reminds me of you. Every time I hear it, I think of that first night on the dance floor. You, in that red dress… and me, with too much hairspray and maybe a little drunk…"

You chuckled softly at his words. “Don’t be so hard on yourself; you were amazing that night,” you said. Eddie spun you gently and pulled you back into his arms, his eyes locked on yours.

“Every night is amazing if it ends with you,” he added.

As you danced, Eddie’s hands moved from your waist to your back, drawing you closer to him. The intimacy of the moment slowly erased the tension left by your earlier argument. Near the end of the song, Eddie twirled you one last time but, instead of ending the dance, he did something unexpected: he took your hands and started leading you toward the front door.

“Eddie, where are we going?” you asked, your voice laced with both surprise and curiosity.

“Surprise,” was all he said, that familiar mischievous glint lighting up his eyes. Before you could press him for more answers, he grabbed your coat and handed it to you, grabbing his own jacket before opening the door.

The cold night air brushed against your face, making you instinctively move closer to Eddie for warmth. “Seriously, Eddie, where are we going at midnight?” you asked again. He just smiled, guiding you toward his van.

Soon, you were driving down a quiet road leading out of Hawkins. Eddie kept glancing at you with a playful smile, his hand occasionally tapping the steering wheel in time with the music. He’d restarted the playlist, making sure one of your favorite songs was playing to fill the silence.

Finally, he stopped the van near a small hillside. From there, the lights of Hawkins twinkled faintly in the distance like scattered stars. Eddie hopped out of the van, pulling a blanket from the back. Then, coming around to your side, he opened your door and held out his hand.

“This place…” you began, but Eddie interrupted immediately.

“Just wait, okay? Everything’s almost ready.” He spread the blanket on the ground and guided you to sit on it before returning to the van to grab a thermos and some snacks. Sitting down beside you, he handed you the thermos and gestured toward the view of the town below.

“So, this might not be a grand anniversary gift,” he said, a touch of nervousness in his voice. “But this place is special to me because, no matter how much I want to get out of this town, there’s always one thing keeping me here. You. And I might have forgotten about tonight, but I could never forget you.”

His words made your eyes glisten with unshed tears. As always, Eddie’s sweet and heartfelt way of expressing himself struck a chord deep within you.

“And also,” he continued, pulling a small box from his back pocket, “I thought this might help make up for it. It’s small, but it’s meaningful. I actually got it a while ago…”

When he opened the box, inside was a necklace that was unmistakably Eddie’s style. The chain was delicate but stylish, with a small guitar charm hanging from it.

“This represents us,” Eddie said as he carefully fastened the necklace around your neck. “Every note is you and me.”

Your eyes shifted from the necklace to Eddie. “You’re really going all out to make up for this, aren’t you?” you said with a smile.

Eddie nodded and whispered, “Because you’re worth it.” Under the lights of Hawkins, you stood beside Eddie, and the argument had melted into a warm harmony. “I think I can forgive you,” you finally said, resting your head on Eddie’s shoulder.

Eddie pulled you into a tight hug and chuckled softly. “I knew it.” The night ended under the stars, wrapped in the warmth of the blanket and the peace Eddie brought to your heart.

taglist: @t-folklore13 @nicholaschavezslut69 @multyfangirl

[rainykthebroken]

As promised, an actual response to this amazing comic and the great letter underneath it!

First, for the comic:

I love it! I adore how you interpreted “Sectonia” and especially her eyes. It just radiates with something that goes far beyond mere hatred or anguish. Black abyss except for small dots that pierce through your mortal flesh. It has such an otherworldly vibe that fits that surreal moment nature so perfectly. Also, the way “Taranza” (or the representation of his self-loathing and depression) seems to hatch from the wasp queen like if it was a chrysalid, body all inky and black- *chef kiss*

It captures perfectly in images how it was Taranza's own insecurities and self imposed misery that clouded his vision!

And the way you drew Taranza! I recognize a bit of @nokk0‘s lovely interpretation of his outfit in this comic, and you made our favorite spider so expressive (especially with his upper eyes). He goes from anger to sadness to numbness… and finally joy when he finds Magolor again (I like how Magolor’s calls slowly reach him after the whole experience to snap him out, and how Taranza never lets go of his top hat). Seeing Taranza’s memories of his friends was a special treat.

Impossible to point out a favorite panel, they’re all perfect, but I have a particular fondness for the one where Taranza looks at his reflection. It is exactly what I was trying to describe in the story: he looks at himself, all tired, a bit melancholic and worn out from what happened… but now, it’s really him that looks back: him, and his flaws, and his qualities. Taranza is whole again.

The whole comic was perfect, and I’m honored that my story inspired you to take time and draw all of this. It means a lot to me.

Secondly, for the letter at the end:

Again, I’m genuinely honored that you liked A Wonderful Attraction, and my other Kirby stories. I wanted to say that it is good that you took some creative liberties! That is what I (personally) love the most! Seeing people having their own interpretations of the scenes and the outfits!

Each panel of your comic filled me with such happiness and giddiness! I love your style and the emotions you managed to paint on these little characters’ faces.

It feels also good to see that I apparently succeeded in making secondary characters interesting. I always tried to develop Susie, Marx and Lor because while the ship is the focus, it would fill hollow if they were mere wallpaper on the narrative background. Reading that my fanfic have your favourite characterizations of them gave me a serotonin boost. 

It’s a bit hard to write since English isn’t my native language, so it’s double the work. I write the paragraphs in french, and then I have to brainstorm to find metaphors or specific words that will fit the english language. I always was afraid that it was showing too much in my work.

As for what will happen after A Wonderful Attraction: I will try to write for other fandoms (Metroid, Bug Fables perhaps?) for a bit. I feel like publishing another Magoranza fanfic only weeks after the ending of this one would be a bit too much. I want the finale to sting a little, give weight to the fact that it is the last page of this story… or at least, it will be for a while. I have small ideas for new fanfics taking place with the gay wizards (however they’ll be far much smaller).

Finally, I wanted to say it again: 

THANK YOU!

You, not only by your wonderful art piece and your kind words, really give me strength. I will never be able to thank all of these incredible artists that draw my fanfic enough, nor the ones who comment on it.

Thank you all for making this adventure, which started a year ago now, even more enjoyable!

"LIVE"

A short comic based on "A Wonderful Attraction' by @rainykthebroken

i hope you enjoyed it!!! it gets a little rough around the edges towards the end-- but i hope that can be forgiven LOL. PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE read the original fanfic by the wonderful Rainyk (@rainykthebroken)!!! it's a fantastic work that i couldn't hope to capture with this little comic of mine :) to rainyk: i hope this comic was able to instill in you even a fraction of the joy that i got reading not just AWA, but your other Kirby works as well!! im sorry if i couldn't fully capture it as you envisioned, drawing is hard and i had to take a few creative liberties for a comic (>n< '') !! i wanted to put this short footnote for you because as someone who is not just an artist but a writer, i find that written works are often gone less noticed / less praised, and i wanted to make sure to share mine with you!! while reading AWA, i was deeply captured by your extremely beautiful and descriptive writing style- i could almost picture the scenes you were painting down to details, and your use of metaphors throughout the story had me genuinely close to tears a couple of times LOL. your characterizations of the entire kirby cast show such a deep understanding of the characters, especially within the main 4 (+lor...) that genuinely helped shape how i view them myself. they are by and large my favourite characterizations of them period-- theyre filled with such nuance and interesting development, and most importantly you gave time for all of them to develop with the other characters, instead of just focusing on the ship!! when i first read that your native language wasn't english, i was so shocked!! you honestly could have fooled me LOL. your writing showed such a deep understanding of the language art i found myself mulling over some of my favorite lines for way too long (><''). to end this long note off, i just wanted to say that since AWA is coming to an end- for my own selfish purposes, i honestly hope you'll continue with more Kirby works, or more works in this 'timeline' even, since i fell in love with these characters so deeply i'm almost broken to have to let them go -- BWAHAH. but i also believe you have a great talent that i know you can take very far from reading what i have- so i will be excited for whatever it is you decide to write next, even if that isn't kirby!! ദ്ദി(˵ •̀ ᴗ - ˵ ) ✧ i hope that you enjoyed my little work in tribute of yours!! (and that it isn't too incomprehensible because it got super scribbly LMFAO.)

[unriding]

EVIE !!!!!

I SAW U USE MY ART AS UR THEME SO I WANNA DO A REMAKE !!! mostly cause the other one was full of mistaks hurrrrr orz

keeping the color palette the same so itd still fit + use softer shading so convey how soft u are + moze is now IN UR HAND !!!! >:3

oh nick :’)

[kitkatscabinet]

SNUGGLE BUG

Summary: The boys try to get out of bed, their partner has other plans.

Pairing(s): Dick Grayson, Jason Todd, Tim Drake, x reader

A/N: unedited

DICK GRAYSON

Dick's always been a physically affectionate person, far more so than the rest of his family. It's why he'd been so ecstatic when he'd found you, a partner that was just as, if not more affectionate than him.

On more than one occasion his siblings had been given front-row seats to the snuggle show when they broke into his apartment, served them right really.

What Dick hadn't accounted for, was just how difficult it was to peel himself from your arms in the morning. Torture would hurt less he's sure.

"Ten more minutes," you whined childishly, burrowing your face into Dick's bare shoulder, tightening your arms around his torso.

"We've already said that three times." Your partner laughed, wriggling out of your hold but with far less strength than you knew he was capable of.

Both of you were fully aware just how quickly he could extracate himself from your arms should the neccessity rise. Technically speaking he did have to go to work, but surely it couldn't hurt to be a little late?

Though a quick glance at the hello kitty alarm clock on the bedside table confirmed he was already late.

"Dickie, can't you just call in? I wanna cuddle."

Fuck. How could he say no to that?

It wasn't like he really needed the money anyway.

His boss's ire is worth it to feel the way you smile into the skin of his neck, your warm breaths and little laughs as you lay tangled together.

So worth it.

JASON TODD

"You planning on letting me go anytime soon?" Jason grunted, though you know him well enough to hear the smile he's attempting to hide.

"Never," you mumble into the skin between his broad shoulder blades, the mattress slouching beneath the combined weight of you and your boyfriend.

Jason, undeterred by your attempts to drag him down, stands with a grunt. A cracking noise you know to be his knees rings out, and though you feel a little bad, you're unwilling to back down in your quest to get him back into bed.

Unfortunately for you, your boyfriend is built like a brick shithouse and is just as stubborn as you. Slowly, he manouevers around your small apartment all the while you hang off his back like a drunken Koala.

"Babyyyy," you whine petulantly into his ear, arms tightening around his neck in an attempt to only slightly choke him into submission.

Sighing, Jason starts to wander back into the bedroom. Just when you think you've won, he spins around, falling backwards onto the mattress and crushing you beneath his bulk.

In the minutes you spend winded, recovering, from being squished like an ant, Jason makes his escape. When you finally manage to come back to yourself you notice something incredibly distressing.

"Clothes! Why are you wearing clothes!" you wailed, sliding off the mattress and onto the floor in a pathetic slump.

Despite himself, Jason smiles at the sight, bundling you up in his arms before hopping back into bed with you. "Ok, you big dramatic baby."

Hey may have sounded put out, but the both of you knew he wanted to cuddle just as much. Besides, nothing was as important to him as you.

TIM DRAKE

He’d tried to be quiet. Truly, with years of training in the art of stealth Tim had intended to simply slip out of the bed and leave you to the sleep you needed.

He’d almost made it, both feet on the floor and the mattress no longer bearing most of his weight when all of a sudden a hand darted out, grasping his wrist.

Tim froze, slowly turning to look down at you with wide, guilty eyes. You're glaring up at him, sleep-addled face far more adorable than threatening, not that he'd ever tell you that, for fear of getting his ass beat.

"What the fuck do you think you're doing?" your voice is hoarse and gravelly from sleep but the threat is evident.

Mouth suddenly dry, Tim awkwardly chuckles, "Oh, babe, you're awake."

"Thanks to you," you grumbled sleepily, guilt and fear in equal measurements settling heavily in his chest.

"M'sorry, tried not to wake you but I gotta get to work on this case."

"No." You grunted, wrapping your arms around Tim's waist with freakish speed, nuzzling your face into his side.

He can't help the way his heart skips several beats at your casual affection. Tim's always been starved for touch, for the soft loving touch that you've always provided as if its as natural as breathing.

He should be used to it but despite the years worth of love and affection you've poured into Tim in the time you've spent together he still hasn't acclimated.

Tim knows, that you know, just how weak to your touch he is. It still doesn't prevent his resolve from crumbling when you refuse to let him budge, tugging him back down into your warm embrace.

"Good boy," you murmur against the skin of his neck, wrapping around his back like an octopus and trapping him against the expanse of your chest.

His skin runs hot at your words, mind numb to anything that's not your touch as he's eventually lulled back to sleep to the soothing sounds of your breathing.

[angelplummie]

getting baby trapped by 30s art……… i m unwell. after a messy divorce with tashi he found you, his kinder, softer, altogether more human younger girlfriend, and he can’t get enough. part of him craves tashis authority, but the other part of him relishes in being more than someone, older and stronger and wiser. he loves the way you make him feel, loves the way you dote on him and listen to him and take him in his entirety. loves the way you don’t play fucking tennis, you talk about other things, care about other things, fuck about other things. loves the way you lay down on your back for him and do as he says, even when he commands you in his soft, kind way. loves the way your eyes bead with tears as he pounds your tight young cunt and stares into your blistering face. he loves to stretch you open on his long cock and use you, use you for his pleasure until you cream and whimper, eat his seed from your sore, spasming cunt. he could fuck you however he wanted, and you adored him for it. in all his years he had never had so much sexual freedom, never been as totally and utterly fufilled. he loves how you thank him, for everything. with the newest dior hanging from your arm, you thank him. with his cum still on your tongue and bleary eyes, you thank him. he loves so much about you he’s starting to think he loves you. he loves you. you’re everything he needs after all that transpired with tashi, he needs someone loving and open. he wants you forever. but you’re so young. you could change, it could all go away so quickly. he needs a way to keep you, to make sure you always look at him with stars in your eyes, make sure you need him as much as he needs you. so slowly, he begins hiding your birth control. not very well, if you really wanted to find it you would have. but you didn’t. and you won’t.

“art,” you sigh as your wonderful boyfriend kisses your neck. you lay on his white sofa together, legs interlocked, pressing into every part of each other.

“art,” you sigh again, his hands palming your breast over your thin cami,”art, i forgot to take my pill. i couldn’t find my pill.”

“hmm,” he moans into your neck, grinding his hips into your thigh.

“art we can’t.”

“i want you.”

you giggle, and let him push away your top, and take your soft nipple into his mouth until it hardened, and deep in your core you felt a furling, peeling pleasure.

“i’m ovulating,” you breathe,”im gonna get pregnant.”

he groans, rock hard dick straining against his shorts, against your supple thigh. his hands roam over your torso and with kitten licks he flicks your nipple. you expel a soft breath, fingers carding through the blonde, tousled hair you suggested he grew out. you were making him young again.

“i want you. i’ll get a condom in a second.”

he’s lying. hes a liar and a bad bad man and he knows it. but he can’t care. you mewl once more about ovulating, but your fingers comb through his hair, and your chest heaves and your eyes flutter shut as he sucks and licks and paws at your tits, humping your thigh with his achingly hard cock.

“i’m… art… pregnant…” you whine half heartedly, but it only makes him sigh deeper, and he imagines the day that you’ll tell him that in complete sentences. would you be teary eyed? would you need convincing? or would you give yourself to him like he felt you would? only time would tell.

“shhhh.”

you twitched, spine arching and pushing yourself further into his mouth.

“i’m gonna grab a condom any second,” he murmured, “i want you now.”

“you have me now.”

he moves up your body and presses his lips to yours, large hand ghosting your jaw. you close your lips against each others, and open again to touch lip to tongue and tongue to tooth, to taste and to breathe each other. he tastes like sweet nothing, like air and cleanliness and summer. you taste like honey to him. your fingers tuck his hair behind his peach fuzzed ear delicately, and you breathe against each others upper lip. his nose mushes against yours and he flicks his tongue at your gums and lips. it deepens, and he toes the line between lavishing you in affection and trying to eat you lips first. it’s hungry and wet, and you forget where his mouth begins and yours ends, all becoming blurred in the spit and the heat of it.

he pulls away, with a spit string connecting your two puffy lips. his eyes twinkle in the dim light that can reach them in your tight embrace.

“why don’t you take off your panties?”

and he leant away, the warmth of his body leaving you burning in its absence. he sat, perched, watching you from above. he looked down his nose at you with a smile, so genuine and yet so condescending. so soft and nurturing, like you needed to be guided and taken care of. that him seeing you naked and feeling your insides and making you stupid and small was what you needed, was how he had to take care of you. it was times like this that you thought about the age difference, when he made you so aware that he could make you want to do anything, anything if it was just to please him. a special ability only he had over you, and if he has his way you would feel it forever. you scramble to be more upright, to rest on your elbows and lift your hips far enough that your reaching fingers could pull down your cotton panties. you writhed beneath him to reveal yourself, nipples peaking from your cami as he watched you fully clothed, in his white shirt and loose pyjama shorts. his hair was ruffled, this way and that, and he looked more collected than he ever had.

shed of your tiny covering, the orange glow of the living room light reflecting off the wetness that was smeared to your inner thigh. from under your lashes u stare up at him, the way his shirt clings involuntarily to the tightness of his core and to his broad shoulders, the way his blonde eyelashes flutter at the sight of your thighs, your hips, your tits, all the parts of you that spill over with softness. your lips part slightly, and in silence you forget what he wants you to forget and beg him to have his way with you.

he was pulled to you once more like a magnet, and you instinctively bent your knees up and spread your legs to receive his torso and hips. he took the bends of your knees in each hand and folded you up so that your ankles hung by his shoulders, bouncing in the air as the sofa gave way for his weight. he knelt above you for just a moment, just a tortuous moment before bending down, sliding his body back so his face could remain above your hot pussy.

with an untroubled drop of the wrist, your legs fell to his shoulders, sprawled on his back. the innermost part of your thighs pressed lightly to his ear, and your heels rested lightly on his back.

with his head situated mere inches from your hot throbbing hole, he took the opportunity to take his time. while he had you in the palm of his hand he made you suffer for it, kissing the tender flesh that shined with the mess he had made for you.

every touch was torture, and he knew what he was doing. his eyes never left your face, the ghost of a smile across his lips whenever they were not eclipsed by the fat of your thighs. your eyes never left his face either, and you watched him breathlessly. he licks a stripe of skin against the grain of your leg hair, and you make a sound like you’re crying.

“oh,” you whisper, “please.”

he hums, laughing. the air from his nose hits your folds and you twitch.

“ok,” he’s soft, controlled, serene.

lips parted, he leans forward into your core, not for one second breaking eye contact with you as he takes your clit into his wet mouth. his pink tongue lathes it, up and down and up and down.

his fingers make sharp indents in your thigh to stop your wriggling, and he forces your ass into his chest. he cranes his neck to eat you deeper, and you cry out, tears beading in your eyes. sucking brutally, he moans into your hole.

“fuck,” you fist the cushion beside you, gathering the fabric and ungathering it,”fuck.”

he eats your pussy like it’s your mouth, makes out with it, makes love to it. he seems to take you in your entirety into his mouth, making you all wet with him, covered and soaked. he reaches up slowly, taking your hand in his, and squeezes it softly. your fingers are tight, paralysed in his hold. the pressure his hand provides gets rid of your compulsive need to squeeze, pacifies you, makes you dumb and limp. you lie back, no longer watching his eyes trained on you, your mouth hanging open and your eyes fluttering closed. you moan involuntarily, unaware at all that you’re alive, that you haven’t died and gone to heaven.

his thumb rubs soft circles on the back of your hand in time with his mouthing, the swirl of his tongue and the rhythmic closing of his mouth. you taste like honey here too, like nectar and sugar and love. your ankles lock together and unlock on his back, and the mere feeling of that sends chills down his whole body.

suddenly he stops. he lays a final fat kiss on your clit, watching as you mewl and your tight, ready hole gushes. he pulls away with your puppy fat legs still hugging side burns and jaw. gently he rises and slips out of your leggy grasp, fingers still interlocked with yours. he wants to kiss you. you are so pathetic when he has his way with you, so passive and pliable. he wants to hurt you because you would let him, but infinitely more and for the exact same reason he wants only to look after you. to make you happy and full and rewarded for your eternal beauty, inside and out.

he wanted to kiss you, and so he did. he leaned over, still completely dressed, and draped his slender, finely chiselled body over yours. it even made him light headed to think about being close to you, to your body, not hardened by the dedication that destroyed him, left soft and unscarred, left without taint. his underbelly of tenderness was your everywhere. you were the rounding to his shoulders, the layer of fat that kept him in warm in winter.

you collided without friction, his wet lips gliding over yours in a dance of want. your legs were still under his control, and as such you were spread beneath him. your knees dangled by his sides, leaving your pussy wide open to leave sloppy kisses on his shorts. you kissed back with the same ferocity. despite your implicit submission, you wanted to consume him as much as he wanted to consume you, if not more. you gave him what he wanted because you wanted to give it to him. wanted to give him everything he would receive.

you gave him your tongue, which he accepted with a grin.

you gave him coiling fingers that grasped the fabric on his back desperately, which he took for momentum. he rolled forward on top of you, deepening the hold his mouth had on yours.

you gave him moans, whimpers from a wavering throat which he took for courage.

“im so hard for you,” you felt the reverberation of his voice in your very core, and you died a sweet death,”i’m gonna put it in.”

“uh huh.”

success. you had forgotten. he laughed, mischievously, and a smile settled into the curves of his face.

all you heard was the snap of elastic, the rustle of fabric and the dulled slap of arts heavy cock against his t-shirt.

all you saw was his pupils grow until his eyes appeared black, like an animal’s, looking at you so directly you felt he saw you deeper than skin, deeper than meat or bone. you felt utterly seen, and utterly loved. you met his gaze pleadingly, eyebrows quirking up in the centre and lips pouting. please, it told him, please my love.

“you want it?” he breathed. pre cum smeared the fat tip, his balls hung low out of his shorts that gathered at his middle thigh. it was so big. long and fat and filling. so big and so pretty, so big and pretty it was all you could do not to cry.

“i want it art,” you replied, voice clipped and cheeks burning,”i want you.”

“yeah?”

he touched your face, from your jaw to the temple. he didn’t even try to kiss you. he just held your face. he was gentle, gentle, gentle as ever. his every action was kind. you love him. you’re in love with him.

“i want you art. i love you.”

and that was that. he was getting you pregnant tonight. someone would have to pry him off of you, because so help him god he would drain himself dry in your hot wet cunt if it was the last thing he ever did.

you squealed as he pushed the entirety of his cock in, bulbous head stretching your cunt wider than any cock had stretched it before. but it slipped in so easily with the outpour of your sticky love. it made a thick squelch, and he groaned so loud, squeezed his eyes shut so hard, you might’ve thought he was being tortured.

“fuck!”

the force of his thrust had caused the thick juices of you arousal to spread around his thick cock where he stretched you out, the pain minimal, familiar and intoxicating.

you throbbed in unison, blood coursing through where you connected. you were so tight and hot, so fucking wet. art struggled, arms bracing either side of your shoulders, to force the rest of himself into you. he also struggled to think, to be a human and not a ploughing, panting, thoughtless dog.

a moan rose through your throat, broke from you involuntarily, came out like the sound of murder. your taut pussy suckled his fat dick with every pulse and quiver. you felt him so deep inside you, and he fought to push deeper. fingers still locked, his crushed your knuckles and your palm.

“oh my fucking god.”

it could’ve been either one of you, because you both meant to say it. this moment of stillness and feeling waited one more second, before art became beast, and drew back his hips so that only his pink tip stayed gripped inside. you felt so soul crushingly empty, until he drove himself back in, and you were brought back to life.

“god,” he pounded any thoughts away, any and all of them, until all you could do was breath and blaspheme, “fucking- christ.”

the buttery, fevered roll of his hips was one he was in no control of. he felt as though he was being moved by some godly force to cram your tight cunt full of him. his jaw hung open, and the hand that didn’t hold yours instead held your shoulder, dwarfing in it in his wide palm. holding onto you for sanity, his eyes opened to take in what he had done to you.

“you’re so tight. perfect. perfect. perfect.”

“i love you.”

“i love you. i love you. please god.”

what was he asking for? was he asking you or god? you would do it for him, regardless. you would do it.

your hand reached into his hair, and tugged hard. a whorish moan left his lips, the rolling of his lower half stuttering as his neck arched up. his knees were spread wide, digging deeply into his sofa. his pelvis moved on its own, smoothly, as if he had reverted to his baser instincts and let years of evolution take its course, nature guiding him to your inevitable impregnation.

you were as he liked you, completely dumb. he was too gone to enjoy it, but on another planet of pleasure entirely. he couldn’t relish in the feeling of control, but he could in the feeling of you, of having you, being loved by and loving you. the suckling heat of you was more than a man could take, and the picture beneath him was no more comprehensible.

your angel lips spread to a glistening tongue, your eyes glassy and dilated, your brow creased, hair mussed. he had to have that too, and so he kissed you once more. the hand on his hair tightened, and he moaned into your mouth.

he pumped your pussy so deep, pre cum was dashed from his oozing tip inside you, heavy balls slapping at your skin. you were so wet you didn’t notice, only felt the heat and the mind numbing ecstasy. the feeling of being pounded like a piece of meat till your tight girl pussy remembered every vein his grown man dick, but kissed like a lover and held like a princess pushed you that much closer, sent you that little bit more over the edge. you needed it. you needed him to cum. to please your daddy.

“i’m gonna cum, i’m gonna cum inside you.”

“fucking do it.”

“yeah?”

“yeah. get me fucking pregnant art.”

that was all he needed. he breathed into your lips and cried out, long steady body shuddering like a leaf. he held you close, pressing his weight on top of your till he could feel the fat of your breasts move around his chest. cum, thick and milky white, shot deep into your cunt, which even now gripped him tighter than ever. so much of it too. his meaty balls tweaked as their contents leaked into where they were always supposed to go.

your orgasm hit you like a ton of bricks, parting your lips in a silent scream.

his cock had not moved an inch from where it rested fully buried in your pussy. it was wet. it would spill out once he removed himself. it needed to stay inside.

he pressed his forehead to yours, your eyes fluttering closed from exhaustion and contentedness. you didn’t even think about what art had just done. you didn’t even realise he had done anything. he was just doing what you needed him to do.

you needed him. forever.

[maxtermind]

texting the f1 men about the fatass hickeys they left on us from the night before

f1 drivers reacting to the hickeys they left on you

★ : feat :: max verstappen, charles leclerc, carlos sainz, lando norris, oscar piastri, lewis hamilton, george russell, alex albon

( misc. masterlist \ main masterlist \ drop a request )

⤷．＞ᗜ＜．MAX VERSTAPPEN !

max loves you the most in the world or so he thinks. what he really loves the most is how he teases you tease you, and this time is no different.

when you point out the giant hickey and whine, he smirks, his eyes sparkling with mischief. “oops, my bad,” your boyfriend says with a shrug, there’s nothing apologetic about his tone and it baffles you just how smug he is being.

you narrow your eyes at him, knowing full well he did it on purpose. you stand up before pointing a finger at him and he immediately speaks before you can.

“or maybe it was my plan all along,” he adds quickly, his smirk widening though he tries to make it go away. you huff in mock frustration, again before you can retort, he pulls you into his lap, kissing you softly.

“i'm putting you on ban,” you mutter softly against his lips, trying to fake being mad. “you can try,” max murmurs back, his hands gently tracing the outline of the hickey he left.

you sigh and shake your head as you watch your boyfriend admiring the marks he left on you.

⤷．＞ᗜ＜．CHARLES LECLERC !

charles can’t help the grin that spreads across his face when you mention the hickey, his eyes lighting up with a mix of pride and mischief. that pisses you off majorly.

“looks like my most precious masterpiece,” he says proudly, tilting his head while he gently holds your chin to admire the mark he left as if it were a work of art.

“i should’ve signed it.” you give him a playful shove, but he just laughs, clearly pleased with himself. “let's sign it.”

“you’re absolutely ridiculous,” you say, trying to sound annoyed, but the way he’s looking at you with such adoration makes it impossible to stay mad. the butterflies in your stomach going losing their minds along with you.

“ridiculously in love with you,” charles counters, his voice softening as he pulls you into his arms. a snort leaves you before you give in and hug him back.

your boyfriend presses a gentle kiss to the hickey, his lips lingering there as if to seal his claim. “and i’m not sorry about it,” he adds with a grin, making you roll your eyes but unable to hide the smile that’s tugging at your lips.

charles has a way of making even the most exasperating things feel like a sweet gesture of love, and this is no exception. not that you were too mad to begin with.

⤷．＞ᗜ＜．CARLOS SAINZ !

carlos raises an eyebrow when you mention the size of the hickey, a smile slowly spreading across his face. “that’s because everything i do is larger than life, baby,” he says confidently, leaning back with a satisfied grin.

you huff , crossing your arms over your chest. “more like larger than necessary,” you quip back, trying to sound annoyed, but his confidence is infectious.

he chuckles, reaching out to pull you into his lap with ease. “necessary? i think you mean legendary,” he corrects, his voice low and teasing as he nuzzles your neck, brushing his lips against the hickey he left.

you’re about to protest, but the way his hands hold you so securely and his lips trace gentle patterns on your skin makes it hard to stay mad.

“just admit it,” he whispers against your ear and the tingles hit you like a punch to your stomach. “you still want more.” you hold eye contact, opening your lips to tell him just how less you want when he suddenly switches the position.

a yelp leaves your mouth instead as he towers over you,“you were saying something, baby?” but as he rubs your skin under your shirt, it feels too good to just end it so you say nothing as you just stare at your boyfriend before you squeeze him back and he knows he’s won.

⤷．＞ᗜ＜．LANDO NORRIS !

lando’s grin could probably blind anyone cause of how it shines through as soon as you mention the hickey. his eyes light up with mischief, and he leans in closer to inspect the mark with an exaggerated look of admiration, lips pursued and hand to his chin.

“looks like i’ve marked my territory well,” he teases with a straight face, running his fingers gently over the spot and you shove him away. knowing your neck and cheeks were red enough to give away what you were really feeling.

but the way his grin widens tells you he knows exactly how you’re secretly enjoying it and probably hat is going to happen next. he tilts your chin up, his voice dropping to a lower, more sincere tone.

“now everyone knows you’re taken,” he says, before sucking a bit atop the hickey he left behind, sending shivers down your spine though you try to keep your restrain up.

“by a vampire?” you snap and instantly gulp, gaze softening as you watch your boyfriend's head being pulled back as he laughs. your hands shake gently as you hold his head and pull it towards yours. lando kisses you back right then, smirking a bit against your lips.

he pulls back just enough to look into your eyes, his playful grin softening into something more affectionate. “if that's what it takes to keep you.”

⤷．＞ᗜ＜．OSCAR PIASTRI !

oscar’s eyes widen in surprise when you tell him about the hickey, he pockets his phone as he walks over to you. you snicker because honestly, it's hard to catch your boyfriend off guard usually.

“what? where? from me?” he stammers, his face blanches. clearly panicking. you can’t help but giggle out at his bewilderment, watching as he tries to piece together how he could’ve left such a mark without realizing it.

“do i need to draw you a map?” you tease, but he’s already reaching for his phone, attempting to find a hack so it could get covered up. you gently stop him, still chuckling at his flustered state.

“it’s not that serious,” you assure him, but he still looks like he’s trying to figure out how he really feels about doing this to you on a day he knows you're going out with your boyfriends. your two steps ahead though and kissing him when you watch him lost in his head.

finally, he lets out a soft laugh, shaking his head at himself. “i guess i got a bit carried away,” oscar admits sheepishly, his cheeks tinged with a hint of pink.

he pulls you into a hug, pressing a soft kiss to the spot he marked. “at least no boy would dare to approach you,” he adds with a grin that makes your heart stop.

⤷．＞ᗜ＜．LEWIS HAMILTON !

lewis’s face immediately softens when you show him the hickey, his eyes filling with concern and a touch of guilt. “oh no, i’m so sorry, love,” he murmurs, his fingers brushing lightly over the mark as if he could somehow undo it with just a touch.

“i didn’t mean to get carried away.” you smile at his genuine remorse, gently cupping his cheek and pulling him closer. “it’s okay, lewis, it’s not the end of the world,” you reassure him, but he still looks like he’s beating himself up over it.

“i just want to make sure i’m always treating you right,” he says softly, his voice laced with sincerity. he presses a kiss to your forehead, lingering there for a moment.

“of course you are,” you whisper before lightly biting your lip. “especially when you take me like you did last night.”

“next time, i’ll be more careful… unless, of course, you don't want me to,” he adds with a teasing grin, catching up to how you were feeling about the situation.

⤷．＞ᗜ＜．GEORGE RUSSELL !

it was almost comical how george freezes when you mention the hickey, his eyes darting to yours with a mixture of surprise and worry. “you could say it was uh… a mosquito?” he tries, his voice shaky and uncertain.

you burst out laughing, and his tense expression softens, though he still looks a bit worried about your reaction. “okay, fine, i know that won't work,” your boyfriend admits, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly, clearly unsure of how you’re feeling about it.

“but i’ll buy you a scarf or something to cover it up!” he quickly offers, his voice tinged with nervousness. you shake your head, still smiling as you step closer to him. “it’s okay, george, i don’t mind,” you say, wrapping your arms around his waist.

he lets out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding and pulls you into a tight hug, his face nuzzling into your hair. “you sure? i’ll still get you the scarf,” he mumbles against your hair, making you giggle.

“wonder what you'll do after i will mark you before some race weekend.” you tease, and he chuckles softly, finally relaxing.

though his body stiffs again when he gets a text n the group chat with your friends of how they are all changing his contact name to: y/n's pet mosquito.

⤷．＞ᗜ＜．ALEX ALBON !

alex’s blinks at you in surprise when you mention the hickey, tilting his head as if he’s not quite sure he heard you right. you soon realise that he's just acting when he opens his mouth.

“you’re welcome! that one’s on the house,” your boyfriend announces cheekily, clearly proud of the mark he left. you raise an eyebrow, already knowing where this conversation is headed.

“but the next one will cost you a kiss,” he adds, winking at you with a teasing glint in his eyes. you shake your head, pretending to be annoyed, but the smile threatening to break through gives you away.

“that’s not how this works!” you protest, but he just shrugs, pulling you into his arms with that effortless charm of his. “with me, it does,” he murmurs, his voice dropping to a low, flirtatious tone as he leans in to kiss you.

“my love bites don't come for free.” alex mutters, laughing loudly at his own joke. “more like a love chomp.” you drawl, smiling tightly when you watch his brows furrow.

alex just settles to kissing you again to shut you up. his lips soft against yours, and you find yourself melting into it, any thoughts of the hickey long forgotten.

©maxtermind // do not copy, rewrite or translate any of my work on any platforms.

★ : a/n :: i'm aware that this was a text request but i wanted to write some fluff for a change, sorryyy🥲 new format lmk how you like it :3 feedback and reblogs are appreciated!

[reignpage]

Art Student!Choso

Classicism : practice strokes

Contents: 18+ mdni, pure smut, sub!choso, teasing, edging, handjob, tit sucking, morally questionable reader?

Things have taken an unexpected turn. 

When you were assigned project partners with Choso, the mysterious yet popular emo boy in your class, you hadn’t expected to become good friends. Especially since he rarely attended lectures or classes, and was so reserved you actually thought he hated you. 

But now, here you are, at his apartment (again) but this time you’re stripping in front of him. 

His place is nice, really nice, much nicer than any normal student's. Though, Choso isn’t normal, you suppose. He’s a member of one of the richest families in the country. You sure are jealous. The ceilings are tall, the exposed bricks add rough contrast to the polished wooden floors and to the metal beams hanging overhead. There are numerous artworks in his place, some hung up, but most on the floor, not discarded per se, but rather simply kept out of the way. 

The first thing that caught your eye is a huge canvas, half obscured by a large fabric, all wrinkled as if it had been hastily thrown over it. All you can see are red and purple strokes in the corner, disappearing under the blanket. It wasn’t there last time you were here.

“Please, make yourself comfortable,” Choso awkward mumbles. He rushes off to the kitchen and pours both of you a cup of water, and you take it from him with a smile. 

Then you settle yourself on the floor, sitting by the coffee table a couple metres from his bed. There aren’t any chairs, you noticed. Just a rug. It’s comfortable and plush so you don’t mind. 

Apart from the king sized bed made up of black sheets, the coffee table and the various canvas and paint tins, his place is bare. It’s so totally Choso you can’t help but grin. 

He sits in front of you, crossed legged, his jeans ripped and his black shirt baggy, just as distressed all his other clothes. You’ve gotten so used to his face, it’s easy to see past the huge tattoo crossing his nose. On anyone else, you’d wince, but on him, he just looks adorable. You wonder if he has any other tattoos. He certainly has piercings, lots on his ears. And you’ve caught him waiting outside Uzumaki for his friend, who you know is Geto because your friend writes about him a lot.

All the students go to his place for tattoos and piercings, and sometimes not even that; some guys like to go to be seen near him for the clout, and some girls hope to catch sight of him. 

You’ve seen him around and he’s certainly good looking. And the things you’ve read on the Bulletin, the gossip page, makes him a sexy enigma, for sure. But you’ve never been quite as curious about him as you are of Choso. 

Your friend says Choso is rarely ever seen with another girl; he likes to keep to himself. And on her Insider’s Line, there’s never been any confessions of a 'fun time' with the man. In fact, there are actually rumours he might be a virgin. She’s implored you to ask but you could never. 

“So,” you elongate, stretching out on the carpet, “should we get right into it?”

He blushes, nodding. “Do I go first?”

“Do you want to go first?” You fire back quickly. 

He’s chewing the inside of his cheek, eyes looking anywhere but at you, and it's clear he’s shy and embarrassed. This must be just as new to him as it is for you. Feeling merciful, you offer a compromise. 

“How about,” you’re grinning now and his eyes flicker to you, “we do it at the same time?”

Choso gulps. 

“At the same time?”

You laugh, getting up on your knees and leaning over the coffee table to watch him lean back like he might disintegrate if you touch him. What a silly man. 

Hands sliding to the hem of your shirt, you trace the edge, pinching it up to tease a sliver of skin. His eyes are drawn to the movement and your grin widens when he subconsciously leans forward. 

“Let’s both undress and even the playing field. What do you think, Choso?”

Oh, and how Choso hates the way you say his name. You always emphasise every syllable, every letter, with a musical cadence that often leaves him lightheaded. It’s like you know the effect it has on him and you’re determined to make him cave, to embarrass himself. 

He nods, getting up on his knees too, and matching your movements. You both lift your shirts over your head and his eyes are following the material as it slides up and up over your body to reveal a lacy bra. It’s black. Oh, he might just pass out. 

You’re desperately trying not to laugh; Choso’s so entranced with every inch of your skin, you don’t even think he knows he’s licking his lips. But, in his defence, you’re probably not much better. 

Choso is hot. 

Sure, you’ve never thought he was ugly, but he’s always been adorable -- the shy and introverted friend you just can’t help but tease. Looking at him now, though, you realise why Choso’s high up on the List, why, despite being so inaccessible, the girls seek him out. 

His body is lean but chiselled with well-defined abs that look sharp, so sharp you could cut yourself in your exploration. Throwing his shirt over his head, you watch his muscles ripple, tensing and flexing in a way that makes you curious to see how it feels beneath your hands. 

With a gulp, you stand, giggling at the way his head snaps up like he’s worried you’re going to leave. Shaking your head slightly, you reach out a hand to him. He eyes it for a moment before he places his own on top of yours. You pull him up. 

You hope you’re doing a good job of looking reassuring as you unbutton your jeans and slide it down your legs. Hope that you aren’t going too fast — you really don’t want to spook him.

Choso follows suit, kicking his jeans to the side and standing before you in just his black, Calvin Kleins boxers. His thighs are toned and smooth, there’s no doubt in your mind that they’d feel great between your legs. 

Slightly more clothed than him, you stand in your matching lace panties and bra. For reasons you don’t really want to get into, you had been sure to be shaved, waxed and cleansed thoroughly before showing up at his door. Thank goodness for younger you. 

You’re both sweeping your eyes over each other, you with respect for his hard work, and him with something much more lewd. Lips are slightly parted, eyes are darkening and his hands quiver, opening and closing. He wants you. And he wants you bad. 

Why not have a little fun?

Taking both of you by surprise, you’re rounding the table and he’s rooted to his spot, uncertain of what you’re about to do. The poor boy looks terrified. But you try to soothe him with a small smile, reaching a hand out once you’re near and placing it on his chest.

The muscle there flexes like a reflex and you hear his sharp intake of air. You’re so close you can feel his heat, feel every tremor running through his body, and you won’t lie, it’s setting your own alight. 

Wordlessly, you slide that hand down at the slowest pace possible, enjoying thoroughly the feel of his hard body. Perhaps that’s why he doesn’t show up to most classes; he’s too busy in the gym. How bad of him. 

And when your finger tips reach the top of his boxers, following the line as it hugs his hips so perfectly, your eyes meet. 

You look so devilish Choso can only gulp, fearing what you’re going to do next. He’s aware you’ve got him in the palm of your hand, toying with him and pushing his buttons, but he doesn’t care. He gives not a single fuck that his stupid cousin would make fun of him endlessly if he knew that he’s shaking like a leaf just cause a girl’s standing in front of him half-naked. 

His hips jerk when your forefinger hooks over the band. 

“Should we take this off?” Your voice is so sultry, he feels like he’s meeting Venus of Urbino in the flesh. “Hmm? Choso?”

There it is. 

The exaggerated movement of your lips and the way you cock your head in question, fluttering your lashes. He’s so hard it’s actually painful, he feels his dick strain against the material, no doubt leaking a wet spot. This is too much, too embarrassing. He can’t move, can’t answer, can't even think with the way his heart is beating so fast.

Can you hear it?

Is it turning you off? Or is it fuelling you?

You already know about the hard time he’s having, pun intended. You saw it through his jeans as soon as you walked into his apartment. And as you stand before him, almost pressed right to his front, you can feel his hardness. 

When he doesn’t say a thing, you smile comfortingly again and hook all your fingers over the band, pulling down just a little and watching his expression for any sign he doesn’t want this. But there’s none. If anything he looks like he’d cum from just the wind alone. 

And there’s no denying that you are almost just as excited as he is. Your nipples are scraping the lace of your cups, poking through, and you can see his eyes darting between them, like he can’t choose a favourite.

Between your legs, you’re sure you’ve soaked your panties. And you feel a certain urge to show him just how wet he’s made you. But that’s a reward, and he’ll have to earn that.

“Choso?”

Through the haze, he hears you call his name, like a siren, leading him deeper into the pleasure. There's no resistance at all when you tug him closer with just your voice. He’s only a man, what strength could he gather to resist you?

He gulps. “Y-yes?”

You flutter your lashes at him again and stand on your tiptoes, grazing his chest with your nipples and he shivers from the feeling of them scraping his bare chest through the lace of your bra. Whispering in his ear, cheeks brushing against each other, you say, “Keep your eyes on me.”

Just as he pushes out the words ‘I will, I promise’, you fall to your knees, dragging his underwear with you and his rock hard cock breezes past your face, leaving a trail of wetness. 

Your jaw slacks. 

Your project partner is packing. 

His dick is just as pretty as he is --so long, clean shaven and thick enough to leave your mouth watering. But you won’t taste him. He needs to earn that, too. And so far, you’re both already behind on your little assignment. 

Unhurriedly, you skim your fingers up and down his thighs, transfixed on the way they shake, just barely, almost imperceptibly. But of course, you'd notice. You're pressed so close, just the warmth of your breath makes his cock bounce. And then you’re looking up at him from down there, face just below his erect cock and he swears you’re Lilith, sent from above to drag him below. 

And what a way to go, he thinks.

Then, with grace, you’re pulling away, keeping eye contact, and crawling back on the rug, feeling the fibres tickle your skin. You’re lying there, legs bent and resting on your forearms with a playful sparkle in your eyes. 

You lift your foot and run it up his calves, and back down again. Choso’s watching every move like it’ll be on an exam, like it’s life or death, and with the way his cock is throbbing so painfully, it feels like it is. He’s breathing so heavily and he doesn’t even realise he’s running out of air, not until you’re spreading your legs with an impish smile and he sees the wet patch on your panties. 

“Won’t you take my mine off?” There’s laughter in your words and it’s the sweetest melody he’s ever heard. “Please, Cho?”

He falls to his knees, a man succumbing to worship, compelled by the beauty he sees before him. You’re a saint, carved by Bernini, and he’s stolen you from Cornaro Chapel. He’ll bear the consequences, every punishment in the world, to stay like this, to bask in the divine love he’s become overwhelmed with. 

You don’t need to say anything more. 

Choso’s already crawling towards you, gaze fixed between your legs. He wants to feel you, to taste, and see and hear and commit everything to memory. If he could capture this moment, this sight, in a canvas then he’d slave away at an easel for eternity. 

Cooing, you lift his chin with a finger. “Cho, you’re not just going to stare forever, are you?”

He shakes his head vehemently. 

“Then take it off for me, please.”

And he does. 

His hands are shaking, running up your thighs, over your hips and then under the flimsy fabric, pulling and pulling until it’s dangling from one ankle. It tickles you, like electricity sparking over your skin. Choso presses his face to your foot, moaning the contrast of the smooth skin there with the scratch of the lace, and he’s inhaling, nose pressed to the fabric.

You should be mortified, should be embarrassed, but you can’t find it in you. Instead, you’re simply oozing more wetness, staining the rug underneath. You rest your ankle on his shoulder and tap him. 

“Not just my panties, Cho,” you remind him. 

He blushes. 

With clumsy shuffles, he’s hovering above you, casting a shadow and he hates it. He wants to see you in clear view, every part of you, unobscured by anything ever again. Still, he makes do with the natural radiance you’re emitting, and he clasps your ribs, hands splayed over your sides, thumbs just below the plumpness of your breast. He lifts you with question in his eyes.

You help him out, arching your back so he can curve one hand and pop the clasps open. And then he’s sliding down the cups until you’re all bare and pretty for him. 

He’s frozen, eyes roving all over your body in a panic. He doesn’t know where to look, doesn’t want to miss a thing, doesn’t want to make one part of you jealous. He looks frantic and you have to hold his face steady and bring him closer. 

“It’s okay, Cho. I’m not going anywhere.”

Choso inhales and then exhales, soothed by the coolness of your palms and your scent. He knows what he wants now; he daydreams about it in class, watching you answer questions or mouth jokes to him from across the room, noticing every quirk and twitch of this beautiful lips of yours. He wants to kiss you. 

You giggle when he leans in. 

“Choso, I think you’re forgetting why we’re here in the first place, you silly boy!”

He blinks. 

Like a cartoon character, you can hear each plink-plink as he looks at you in confusion. Yep, he’s definitely forgotten about the assignment.

There’s a devastated look marring his face and he’s pouting when you sit up. He pouts even harder when you instruct him to grab his sketchpad and get to drawing. 

“How do you want me?”

Choso glares at the paper like it’s his worst enemy. On my face riding me until we both cum.

He has no idea where that thought came from. It’s a foreign concept but feels so familiar. He doesn’t dare voice it out loud though, instead he mutters ‘just as you are’, and gets settled on the rug. 

And if his cousin knew that he has a girl fully naked and wet for him right there in his room and he’s sat clasping a pencil instead of his dick, he’d never live down the humiliation. 

But what does he know?

Most of the action he’s been getting is through text messages, popping boners during family dinners from a scolding he receives from a girl who has no idea of the effect her words have on her vice president. 

Maybe, if he makes fun of him again, he'll just tell her. 

“Choso, angle your head just slightly towards me, please.”

And he hates the conversational tone your voice has taken, like he’s back in class. But he does as he’s told, shifting every time you ask, and he scribbles, lead gliding across the paper as he follows every curve of your body with his eyes. If every class was like this, he’d actually come, he thought. But thank goodness it isn't; how would his dick ever survive?

For an hour, you sit in relative silence, just the sound of scratching and occasional humming filling the space. It’s a peaceful sort of quiet, the one he doesn’t mind staying in, one he could get lost within. 

You’re lying on your stomach, feet kicking and hair draped over your shoulders. Your ass looks so soft, like marshmallows, and your breasts are pressed against the rug, and not in his face, and he thinks it’s a tragedy. 

He feels like Icarus, having flown so near to everything he’s ever wanted, only to plummet to the ground never having even touched or tasted. Instead of melted wax and feathers, all he has is a leaking dick that you don't even look at.

Yet, he isn't softening at all.

Eventually, you turn to look at him, studying his features for reasons that have nothing to do with drawing. Choso’s still pouting, scratching the paper sometimes a little too hard, and the poor pencil looks like it’s about to break in his fist. 

You feel bad for the sweet little guy. 

So hard, leaking and weeping at the tip, and he isn't touching himself. He's so good at following instructions you just have to reward him.

You push up and slither over unseen -- he's still glaring at his sketchpad -- nudging the book off his lap and grinning up at him. You're doing this for him and definitely not for your soaking pussy.

Choso gulps. 

You’ve played with him too much, he can’t trust that gleam in your eyes and the curl of your lips. So he stays still again, content to watch you do as you please with him. 

“Have I been bad to you, Cho?”

He shakes his head, but he’s nodding internally. You’ve been so bad to him, so mean, ignoring the way his cock jerks when your eyes meet his. But he could never be mad at you, he’s so sure, he's willing to bet everything on it. 

“Should I help you out, you poor baby?”

You’re mocking him again. He knows it. But God, does he love the sound of you tearing him down. He wants you to call him 'Cho' and 'baby', and everything else you'd like. He just wants you to call for him, to only look at him amongst a gallery of Michelangelos, to see him and only him. 

Choso nods, desperate for anything. 

And you lean in to press a chaste kiss on his lips. He blinks again and then chases after you but you’re already going down. There’s nothing for him to do except to stretch his legs out, caging your body, and to lean back on his hands. He doesn’t dare say a word, knows better than to interrupt a Master at work.

You’re eyeing his dick and you’re enamoured with every vein. His cock head is raging and leaking pathetically, and your hands wrap around as much of his length as you can to soothe it. At the first touch, Choso bites his lip to stifle a whimper. Your hands are cold.

It burns him.

But then you're rubbing up and down at a slow pace as if basking in the feeling. Again and again, you go up and then down, twisting and turning your wrist when you reach his head.

"Fuck! Y/n, please!" He breathes out when you thumb his slit.

You use his pre-cum to lubricate him, going faster when his heavy breathing turns into low moans. “Is this how you like it, Cho?”

He nods furiously. 

"Yes, yes. Thank -ngh- you."

His eyes are closed and you’re upset. So you sit up, hands still jerking up and down, and tap his cheek. 

“I told you keep your eyes on me.”

Did you?

He’s forgotten now. Everything’s a jumbled mess, like an abstract art, taking no shape or form in his mind. It feels so good, your dainty hands are wringing pleasure from him and his balls are tightening. 

You grab his hand and direct it to your tit, and he wastes no time in squeezing and groping. Choso's mouth drops. You're so smooth, so pretty, it's the only thing he ever wants to hold again. His hand covers your entire breast and he’s massaging it like a stress ball, like it’ll help ground him whilst you attack his poor cock. 

"S-so good, God! You're -ha- so pretty, y/n."

When you speed up, he whines, mouth slack and eyes crossing. This is too much, he doesn’t know what to do. His other hand is tugging at the rug, tearing fibres away, and his legs are tensing, muscles cramping but he doesn’t care. 

“Faster -ngh- please!”

You kneel, his hand falling away from your chest to grip your hip. “You’re such a good boy, Cho. Well done for remembering your manners.”

Despite the way his head is reeling, growing lightheaded, he conjures up a shaky smile, so very pleased he’s doing good, for you. And when his eyes open back up — he doesn’t recall closing them — he’s drowning in your tits. 

You've inched forward, tightening your hold on his cock, and pushed your chest in his face. With haste, like a man starved, he sucks on your tit, rolling the nipple with his tongue. It sends spikes of electricity through you. You clench down on nothing and it's such a shame, when his pretty cock is just a couple centimetres from where they should be. Your hand picks up pace and his whines are muffled, sending delicious vibrations down to your clit.

“Thank you, thank you, thank you,” he repeats but the sound is so jumbled you don’t even know what he’s saying or if he’s even saying anything at all.

Choso's trying to devour your breasts, engulfing as much as he can, so distraught he can’t take it all in, so he brands a punishing grip on your hip and you gasp. 

“Are you going to cum, Cho? Are you going to cum for me?”

He can’t answer, doesn’t want to stop tasting the salt of your skin. But he hopes that the intensifying throbbing of his cock provides a good enough response. 

And when your grip on him tightens just as he nibbles on your nipple, thumb pressing hard on his slit, he cums with a whine. He spurts between you, hot liquid landing on both of your chests and all over your hands. It’s opaque and syrupy; you feel regretful you didn’t make him cum in your mouth. You don’t stop jerking him off, intent on milking him for everything he’s worth, and his eyes are rolling back.

It’s too much. 

Your scent, your body, your hands, your cooing in his ear. It pushes him over the edge again and again until his balls are emptier than they’ve ever been, dick lurching and bobbing like he's pushing out phantom spurts, and then he’s falling backwards, taking you down with him.

You both catch your breath, panting under the warm lights of his apartment. You’re sweaty, skin sticking to his, and there’s cum gluing your stomach to his body. There’s the unmistakable smell of sex lingering in the air, and you feel bad that he’s going to have clean up after this, but you press a kiss to his chest, licking away the salt from your lips. 

And then you stand, grabbing your clothes. 

Choso’s still coming down from his high, so lost in everything you’ve had to give him, he doesn’t even register that you're getting dressed until you’re giggling. That sobers him up. 

Pushing himself into an upright position, he wipes the drool from his chin and pouts at you again. 

“Don’t you need to…,” he trails off. He doesn’t know what to say but you get him nonetheless. 

You sport an apologetic expression, “Don’t have time, sorry, Choso. I’m having dinner with my brother and his friend.”

He follows you, thighs complaining with very step, but still pushing through so he can hold you before you go. The feel of your clothes scratching his bare skin is setting him on fire again, but you only press a kiss to his cheek. He tries to nuzzle your neck, arms clinging around you like a koala bear. 

You kiss him on the lips and smile. “I had a good time, Choso. I’ll see you in class, yeah?

He nods.

But Choso doesn’t want to just see you in class, he wants to see you laid out bare beneath him on his bed. It doesn’t even have to be his bed. He just wants to touch and taste again. 

He can’t, though. 

Because you’re already stepping out of his apartment and leaving him. 

Your project partner’s missing you miserably by the time you step out into the street. You wished you had the time to make him make you cum, but that’ll have to wait another day, even if the uncomfortable wetness in your jeans is reminding you exactly why you should stay.

Wait, jeans?

Where are your panties?

Oh, fuck, is your last thought when you get into your car. 

Choso, on the other hand, is already pumping his cock as hard as you were, brain working overtime to recall how exactly you touched him. The way you went slow at first, relishing in the heavy feel of his cock in you head and then quickly ramping up to a rhythm that had him seeing stars faster than nightfall.

His nose is pressed to the soaked gusset of the panties you had left behind. He doesn’t know if you did this on purpose, hell, he doesn’t care. All he can think about is how he at least managed to paint your body with his cum, even if he wished he could cover every inch of your skin. Choso just hopes you'll give him another chance. He'll do so good you'll want him just as bad he wants you.

So happy to have a reminder of you, he promises to cherish your panties every night until he gets to do this again, tasting from the source, or even just having a fresher pair.

You’ve given him a gift, the best gift of his life, and you deserve to be gifted something just as special in return. 

You’ll find this gift on your desk.

And he hopes it makes you just as happy as you’ve made him. 

Because, God, does the memory of you make him so pathetically hard.

[nescence]

Marriage life

JJK men x Fem!Reader

Summary - Basically just you and him in a marriage. Both wholesome and smutty. Involves: Gojo, Getou & Nanami

Warnings: Mirror sex, pervert Getou, praising, masturbating, massage sesh with Nanami ;), overstimulation.

PT2 pending…..

GOJO

You and Gojo are pretty much the rich aunty and uncle. You don’t have kids because your sister has pretty much filled that hole for you and babysitting the two twins is enough.

Movie night is a must with you guys. It’s relaxing and comforting especially on rainy days. So before bed when the kids are over you either watch horror or comedy, all snuggled up in a blanket. Gojo is always the last to fall asleep, it’s like he’s programmed to stay awake and protect you - always being the one to carry each of you to bed carefully.

“Satoru?” You mumble as your body is carefully placed onto the bed. You hear him hum as he covers you up. “The kids…” you trail off, sleep still in your body. He joins you in bed placing a kiss on your cheek then lips. “took care of em, get some beauty sleep” he reassures, arms sneaking around your waist, pulling you closer to him planting another on your forehead before you snuggle into him. The warmth emitting his body immediately putting you to sleep. His embrace has always been comforting, bringing you a sense of saftey you couldn't describe.

Clinginess, Gojo can be clingy whenever you’re off to work. He found it ridiculous why you would want to work in the first place. He had enough money for generations upon generations so you working was always baffling to him. Who in their right mind would work willingly?.

Sweets. You guys could make a factory with the amount of sweets you had in your cupboards. Maybe that’s why he always has an unbelievable amount of energy. Even in bed.

Practically a house husband.

“How’s my beautiful wife doing today?” Spreading his arms wide, Gojo pulls you into a hug. You were tired but you gladly accepted it, letting yourself fall into his hold. His arms remain at your hips staring down at you. “You’re glowing” his eyes sparkle, and you frown.

“Really? I thought I looked like shit” you say but he shakes his head “that’s weird…didn’t use anything new”. Once those words came out your mouth Gojo grins. “I could think of a reason why” his tone was cheeky, eyebrows wriggling as he stares down at you. Realising what he meant, you groan pinching his nipple which makes him jump.

“Ya nasty” rolling your eyes with a smile on your face.

Always, always praising you.

“Look at you…” Gojo practically whispers to himself, watching his fingers circle your wet clit through the mirror. Your body twitching under his electrifying touch, the way the tip of his middle finger delicately presses against your clit has you shaking for mercy. Licking his lips hungrily, his eyes observe. A fucking. Sight. To see.

Your brows curled and bottom lip disappears underneath your teeth. Legs broadened - felt embarrassing to you - like a work of art mirrored at gojo, granting him the sight of every inch and surface of his wife; your pussy glosses under the soft lighting of your bedroom, keeping his glistening cock cosy within whilst drops of cum seep out, running down his length. Your low whimpers sounding like the desperate cry of a pup. Face stained with dried tears. And Gojo loves it, bringing you to such a state to show how much he adores your body, how a stunning woman like you should be treated - he wants to give you nothing but pure pleasure caused by him and him only.

“Ahn~~” you moan, trying your best to keep your legs open as Gojo continues teasing your abused clit. Your sensitivity at a high due to your nonstop cumming. “You’re soo..beautiful [Name]” He lulls into your ear, mouth against your heated skin as he speaks. “Look baby, look” he stops fidgeting with your bud, your eyes avert to his in the mirror. “Don’t ya look fucking gorgeous?” Mouth parted as he speaks, breathing hungrily as he takes your hand into his. Guiding your fingers through your folds, making you spread yourself nice and wide for him to marvel at how well you suck him in, he hisses feeling you squeeze him along with the gorgeous sight. He has your fingers run through your slit, gathering both his and your essence. You exhale at the action any light touch on your clit making you twitch. “Bet you taste as good you look” his eyes lock onto yours, “hmm?”. Your gaze never leaves his blues as he guides your hand up to your lips, the pure intimacy in your eyes as your lips fall open, giving him the opportunity to push your fingers into your mouth. Closing it shut, you relish in the sweet taste of you and your husband, moaning vulgarly as you suck and swirl your tongue around your digits. Causing your husband to further expand within you.

His eyes, lost in yours, clouded by his lust whilst he watches you swirl your hips. Gaining whatever friction from his cock Sitting deep within your walls. All the while you’re lost in the motion, your eyes rolling shut revelling in the sensation. Your sucking becoming weak as you grow a knot within your stomach, mouth loosening and drool running down your chin. Drunk with sweet bliss.

Fucking hell. You’re killing him.

“Fuck…c’mere” his hand faces you towards him, lips immediately magnetise. Giving Gojo a chance to taste both you and him. Hungrily devouring you, not giving you a bit of control as his tongue rolls, leading you whilst moaning. Gojo sucks In a breath feeling your soft walls pulsate and squeeze his girth, his lips hung on yours. Letting out pleasured breaths as he finally moves his hips again, nicely…slowly…gliding his length up into your drenched hole. His name rolls off your tongue barely above a whisper, Gojo lazily kisses you as his mind is now elsewhere, gradually increasing his speed now that both his hands held onto your hips. A yelp slips your tongue feeling his swollen tip hit your cervix. The creamy mess of your cum reaching both ears, evidence of your unceasing sex. Whatever words Gojo grunts out falling into deaf ears, a feeling of rapture throughout out your body. Your vision blurry due to a well up of tears, eyes glued to the ceiling, mouth remaining parted as rhythmic moans are beat out your throat every time Gojo’s hips bounced you upwards.

“Your pussy’s so goood [Name]” Groaning, Gojo spouts out whatever comes into his mind. Big hands squeezing the flesh of your hips whilst he enjoys your cunt socked on him. “Feels so- so good baby- fuck” he grunts eyes catching the motion of his length disappearing into your pussy, a white ring of cum developed around his base. A reminder of your previous rounds, and yet he couldn’t get enough.

Seeing your head hung over his shoulder, tits bouncing, tears streaming….He wants more, he needs to make his wife feel just how fucking amazing she is to him.

GETOU

One thing about Getou is his acts of service, that's his love language. He'd help you with your hair, help with cooking despite being horrible at it. Anything he feels would burden you he'd do it.

Despite his act of service, you love returning the favour - one thing between you two is you self care days. Getou only doing it because of you. You'd help him out with his long silky hair, massaging his scalp, oiling his face. all sorts.

"Is it nice" you whisper softly, smiling as you watch him relax into you. His eyes remain closed as he hums, enjoying the feeling of your fingers scratching his scalp. You chuckle, reaching to get a serum for his face, whilst applying it you lean over to place a peck onto is lips. Getou’s purple eyes fluttering open to be met with the face of his beautiful wife, a fond smile spreads across his face as he watches the softness in your expression as you scrub his scalp. You’re always so gentle and pulpous with him. Just like he his with you.

He reaches his hand to take yours in, you let him although caught off guard. His lips meet your skin, a gentle kiss from him on your hand.

One thing you both love are drives, it didn't matter the destination or if there even is a destination. You both found amusement in having long drives either in comforting silence or with music. And during all that Getou's hands dont leave yours, interlocking your fingers in silence no matter how sweaty it gets he doesn't let go. Unless you stop for a snack.

Whenever your clothes go missing/ get damaged. Getou doesn't hesitate in replacing them. One day a bra or shirt of yours would be gone and the next day it'll be there right where you left it all brand new. Even if when you point out something you like, it'll be in your possession the next day.

Speaking of clothes getting damaged or lost. The reason being?. Your husband. Despite his cool demeanor and being your husband, Getou is a pervert for you. Stealing your clothes, enjoying their scent as he fucks himself using them. Just to make up for when you're not there.

You had gone out to meet your best friend because of an alleged emergency. And now Getou is left alone with his thoughts.

1 hour later, he finds himself watching a show to pass time. Frequently checking his phone to see if you’ve messaged him or called. But nothing. It doesn’t help when the last thing you said to him was hinting at something, something he knew very well what to be.

‘I have some things I wanna try out with you…’

Those words ring in his head and his mind goes into the gutter. Immediately thinking of the videos he came across on your laptop. You’ve both never done that before. Maybe?….

2 hours later, fuck… he groans into his hands. Unable to focus on the show. His dick was aching…throbbing for a release he can’t bear to resist any longer.

10 minutes past, and Getou finds himself digging through your dirty laundry. Eyes laying on that one lace panty he loves on you. He doesn’t waste time pulling the band of his sweats down to set himself free, tip angry and leaking with precum. Veins popping as if he was gonna explode. His mouth goes agape, letting out sharp breaths once he brings the piece of cloth to his nose. His free hand rubs his inflated tip whilst deeply inhaling the musky scent of your cunt.

“Fuck…Baby.” He gasps, eyes rolling as he begins to stroke his cock. Imagining your flooded hole welcoming him in. Desperately pumping him. “Sssshit [name]” he amps up speed, bringing the lace down to wrap around himself. He needs you. He needs so bad and you’re not here.

“[Name], [Name], [Name]— fuck ah—”

It’s not enough. He needs more, he’ll never cum this way. His hips buck into his hand in attempt to gain more friction, to replicate your gummy walls bouncing up and down him. Milking him. Emptying his balls till he’s all dried up.

“Yes baby…shit— ah- ah-”

His hand moves at an alarming speed, his release is right there. Within reach. A few more pants and strokes before he’s finally done, ropes of cum covering your laced panty, Getou hunching over as the release hits him hard. He groans, letting out a few breaths before looking at the mess he made.

All that mess and he’s still hard.

5 minutes pass.

“I need you- I need you-” Getou’s humping your pillow like a dog, rolling his hips into the soft cushion head thrown back at the frictions. “Ohhh fuck, fuck.” already chasing his third orgasm, his tip sensitive and red from the action. Pillow soaked with his cum and sweat running down his torso. Your lace panty lays on the floor all stained with his seed, Getou payed it no mind. Telling himself he’d get rid of it later and buy you a new one tomorrow. Now a new pillow too. Your name chants from his lips multiple times, your face appearing to him every time he closes his eyes.

He just. Couldn’t. Get. Enough.

He wants his dick to be squeezed, drenched, overstimulated to his limit. Your moans, his name leaving your soft lips in a scream. Everything about you makes his thrusts harder. Sweet moans leave his lips, as he goes harder. His mind filled with your every being, voice, touch.

“Suguru”

“Agh…fuck…yes baby” Your voice sounded so real, Getou could only throb at the sound.

“What’re you doing?” Sounded too real, his head snaps to your doorway. Seeing you stood eyes wide as you watch your husband hump your pillow shamelessly. Even then he doesn’t stop, eyes locked on yours feeling not only his heart but his cock best at the sight of you. He should stop, he should stop. He repeats in his head, but his body refuses, the pure sight of you bringing him closer to a finish.

“[Name]” he grunts, face red and hair stuck to his skin. “I need you…please- please-” begging you, his voice cracks, the sounds going straight to your already wet core. And of course, you couldn’t deny it.

NANAMI

One thing about Nanami is his consideration. No matter the situation he’s always have you first in mind. After work he’d always stop by the convenience store to buy you your favourite snacks. Now you have a whole cupboard full of it.

Compared to him, you have much more energy than he does. So every time he’d try his best to entertain your interests since it makes you happy.

Just like Gojo - he praises you every chance he gets.

“Awww kento what’s this” you pick up the stunning dress from the bed, admiring the way it shimmers under the light.

Nanami watches you with a small smile, your eyes sparkling just like the dress “It reminded me of you” he mumbles just enough for you to hear before your throwing your arms around him “Thank you so much. I love it.” You place a long kiss on his cheek, his arms wrap around your waist staring into your eyes as he spoke. “Why don’t you try it on? Since you like it so much let’s show it off” your brows perk up in shock. But then again, you should be used to this.

An hour later you’re coming out the bedroom all dressed up. The light in Nanami’s eyes glows once he lays them on you. What a beauty you are…

“I don’t know what I did in my life to deserve you” He speaks without thinking, reaching his hand out for you to take. “Oh stop it” you wave your hand, giggling like a Highschool girl receiving a compliment from her crush for the first time.

“I’m only stating the truth my love”.

Speaking of showing off. Nanami would never waste a chance to take you out, bringing you to restaurants, making sure you have your fill. Overall showing off his beautiful wife to let the world know how much of a lucky man he is to be graced with such a woman.

Working overtime is a habit Nanami can’t seem to get over. And because of that days or even weeks go by without you guys having that intimate time together. And Nanami, of course, always manages to make it up you.

“This is the least I can do. And no, you can’t return the favour” He speaks sternly, lifting you off the floor - hooking a hand underneath your knees and another around your torso.

“But you’ve been working. A lot. May I add and I’ll feel bad Kento” you argue as he places you on top of the massage bed. He plants a kiss onto your head, walking towards a cabinet “take your robe off”.

You watch him, annoyed by his disagreement. But oblige, a massage isn’t something you can easily pass on. And by your husband? You know it’ll be the best massage of your life. You lay face first on the bed, shuffling so you could get comfortable. You felt slightly chilly since Nanami suggested you go completely naked. But you have no complaints since it’s him.

“You ready?” He checks, his voice coming from your right.

“Mhmm”

Once you said that you felt a cool liquid dripping onto your back. The temperature sending shivers throughout your whole body. Your eyes close feeling his hands rub your back, spreading the oil whilst applying pressure.

“Relax for me [Name]” He spoke so calmly, so softly, it could put you to sleep. And on command you did. Relaxing just as your husband instructs, letting out hums of satisfaction whenever he hits the right spots. “Does it feel good?”. Fuck, his voice. That smooth, deep voice that you love so much. You’re trying so hard to ignore it, to not think so inappropriately about this innocent session.

“Yeah…you’re really good at this hun” you add, feeling his hands right above your rear, circles around your lower back. When he hits a specific spot you moan. “Right there Kento” you hiss as he goes back to area again, circling it until you’re satisfied “S’that good?” He inquires, making sure he’s done enough. And you nod, enjoying the tension being released.

Once he’s done with your back, he moves down to your legs, massive hands rubbing intently. Lathering them with oil. Doing to them what he did with your back.

You feel his hand move upward, now kneading your ass which caught you off guard. But you’re not complaining, rather, you giggle “Saving the best for last?” You imply, hearing Nanami sigh as he continues massaging.

“I won’t give you the satisfaction of my answer” You could hear the smile in his tone. But you don’t push on, enjoying the feeling of his hands on your body.

“Give me a sec”

Once he’s done, you hear his footsteps receding. Coming back after a few seconds later but he doesn’t do anything other stand there.

“Kento? What’re you doi— Ah!—” your husband causes you gasp as his fingers run through your folds with a cold oil. “K-Kento” your eyes expand, letting out a pleasured yelp as you hand springs to grip the massage bed. His fingers stuff you up so well, your insides already writhing. Turning you to mush as your husband's fingers slither deeper within you - the oil making it easier but also acting as an enhancement to your pleasure. What the fuck? you've felt good before but right now... you felt elated. And your moans only grew more intense as he went on.

“Judging from your reaction I made the right choice buying this oil.” He comments, fingers dragging in and out from your sopping cunt. Your eyes squeeze shut as you feel heat pool at your core, his fingers fucked you so good it’s almost embarrassing how they could bring you to this state.

“It’s only the two of us here my love. No need to restrain yourself” And with those words, a stimulation to your clit had you yelping. “Kento!”.

“Yes?”

Nanami is answered with a mewl, your body writhes beneath him. Legs springing up as a result of the overwhelming pleasure. Every once of your body felt hot. You felt goosebumps by your lower back where your husband’s hand laid whilst the other digs into your pussy, bringing you closer to climax.

“Too…ah…too much…” you barely manage to get your words out, constantly falling back into that world of pleasure. Mind solely focused on how your husband’s fingers glide against your sensitive walls, how they rub against clit. Oh…you were so close…and it didn’t go unnoticed by Nanami, he felt your cunt clench around his digits. And with that your husband increases his speed, your body tenses. Legs stretching, and hands clenching as you were on the edge of climax.

Before you knew it. Flashes blind your vision as you came. Soaking your husband’s fingers with your juices.

Nanami gives you a chance to catch your breath, soothing you with a hand massaging your back. But he doesn’t let it prolong for too long since he still had to move into the second part of this massage session.

✦ Finally back on my grind.

[ckret2]

I might tweak some details later (jewelry? take the ribbon off the bow?) but I've about got a Scalene design I like. The lipstick is really the centerpiece of the design. Now let's infodump! With more art!

🔺 Notice her lines are a a little curvy. It's not for artistic effect. She's got a Fictional Polygon Physical Disorder that makes her bendier than she should be—meaning, among other things, sides that curve and flex.

🔺 It's also the kind of condition with symptoms that are romanticized by people who don't grok that it's a debilitating medical condition. Sides that curve and flex? How exotic! This went to her head in the wrong ways.

🔺 Bill was born with the same condition. You know how squishy and blobby he was as a baby? Thaaat's genetic! He was a lot squishier than most babies! And, consequently, more adorable.

🔺Scalene dreamed of being a famous super model. Was actually a teen beauty queen at mid-tier beauty pageants. She thinks it's always somebody else's fault she wasn't more successful.

🔺 She took Bill to his first baby beauty pageant the day he was born. He did, in fact, have a Best Baby Ever award presented to him by the mayor, but to be fair he was only competing against like 6 other babies and who's going to withhold a trophy from a newborn on his birthday? Anyway the 6-12 month group and 12-24 month groups also each had a Best Baby Ever award.

🔺 This was an absolutely bonkers thing for Scalene to do.

🔺 What's that small scrunkly thing doing at a pageant, he can't even see color yet.

🔺 Their fictional squishy medical condition doesn't just accidentally make shapes cute. It's the kind of condition that affects just about all parts of the body: sides won't stay straight, poor muscle tone resulting in instability & weakness, poor motor coordination & clumsiness, back aches & pains (well, triangles don't have "backs." side aches?), easily dislocated joints, and increasingly skewed sides with age. Just about everyone in Scalene's family is born equilateral and ends up extremely scalene after young adulthood. The rest of her family have normal relationships with their condition, she's the only one who's weird about it

🔺 She was very rough on her body in pursuit of pageantry success, but her physical symptoms & associated chronic pain got a lot worse due to having a kid; she had to retire from pageantry for good. She doesn't blame Bill for this at all. Out loud, to his face. (If she hadn't been so rough on herself in pageants, having a kid probably wouldn't have impacted her health this much. She doesn't consider this.)

🔺 She's weirdly intent on seeing Bill become the success she wasn't. He's her little golden child, he deserves to be seen as the greatest! He'll show them how great he is for mommy, won't he? He won't let mommy down, will he? When he's very young, she takes him to child pageants—he'll appreciate the lessons they taught him when he's older—and this lasts until he finds out he can get out of it by pyrokinetically setting the stage on fire.

🔺 She jokes ("jokes") that she didn't realize that when she was having a kid, she was firing herself from the pageant circuit so she could hire & train her own replacement. These jokes had no long-term impact on Bill at all!!!

(Compare/contrast: how we're told Stan's "You watch the movie, you scare the girl, the girl snuggles up next to you, next thing you know you gotta raise a kid, your life falls apart" is repeating something he heard his dad say.)

🔺 Did you know that squeaky baby shoes are sometimes medical devices? Squeakers help children with poor muscle tone and delayed motor skills learn how to walk correctly: it makes them want to walk on their heels instead of their toes so they can hear the squeak. Did you know sometimes oversized squeaky baby shoes are worn by young kids who need ankle braces? Did you know that kids with poor motor coordination can take a longer time to learn complicated motor skills like tying shoelaces rather than using shoes with velcro straps? It sure is interesting that baby Bill's most defining visual feature is oversized squeaky sneakers with velcro straps and that he kept wearing velcro shoes until he was 16!

🔺 As a baby, Bill's angles were technically supposed to be equilateral,* but thanks to his inherited condition, his angles were so loose his top corner practically formed a right angle. Not good: the closer a triangle creeps to being obtuse, the more likely he'll have muscle strain and medical issues from his organs being squished out of place by his own exoskeleton.

(*supposed to be equilateral: but after receiving treatment, they discovered his angles were still 60º, 60º, and 60.1º, which is mathematically impossible for a triangle... on a euclidean plane. But on a non-euclidean 3D plane, such as in spherical geometry, a triangle's angles can add up to more than 180º... and it's this slight 3D flex to Bill's body that lets him see up into the third dimension.)

🔺 For his first few years of life he actually had a hypotenuse, until physical therapy and side braces helped him improve his muscle tone. Sometimes he still reflexively refers to his base as his hypotenuse. It's fine, sweetie, it's nothing to be embarrassed about, mommy had a hypotenuse too. Don't tell anyone.

🔺 Scalene took baby Billy to a lot of doctors as a kid, just like how she was taken to a lot of doctors! Doctor for his side braces, doctor for his physical therapy, doctor for his shoes... doctor for his eye when he started talking about seeing white glitter at the edge of his vision. Scalene didn't have that symptom, but the eye doc said their condition does occasionally come with visual problems—blurred vision, lazy eye, visual field defects... It sounds like Bill's main field of vision is unobstructed, but if the visual snow he's getting in his peripheral vision is distracting him and confusing his little toddler mind into thinking it's something real, they can give him a medication that'll narrow his field of view. From the sound of it, he's not seeing anything important at the edge of his vision, anyway.

And she only wants what's best for her golden child.

🔺 Scalene's "bow" is actually a medical device: sort of like a medical corset, it helps tug and press her anatomy into place to reduce pain. Bill started wearing one preventatively—if he can keep everything in place when he's young, it'll take longer for his angles to skew when he's older. Like wearing a retainer when you get your braces out.

🔺 He has a cane for the same reason—he doesn't need it NOW when he's young, but he might as well keep it on hand, by age 35 he'll probably want to stand more often than float and when he's standing he'll probably want the extra support! Even if he doesn't need it by 35, he will eventually!!

🔺 Bill doesn't medically need a bow tie in the third dimension either; but he adapted it to help tie his 3D exoskeleton on.

🔺 A trillion years later, Bill suspects that his mutation to see the third dimension came, at least in part, from his mom's medical condition. Except, she didn't have that vision. Nobody else with the condition on her side of the family had that vision. It's not a known symptom of the condition. His dad had stuff going on with his eye too, did he get it from his dad's side? A mix of both? Just a standalone random mutation? He doesn't know; and with the rest of his species dead, there's no way for him to find out.

But back to Scalene!

🔺 She's not quite red, she's rose gold. However she doesn't like it. She thinks it's a sort of pinkish brown and very dull. She uses makeup to make herself look redder. Note how bright red her sides are: in a species where only your edges are visible, body paint is the most common form of makeup+fashion. She's pleased her baby came out gold-gold, it's much cuter. Bill knows she's rose gold, but he only saw her with her makeup off when she was tired or sick; he remembers her painted red.

🔺 She adores her Billy; but she somewhat sees him as an extension of her will. She thinks he's just perfect and will tell anyone who asks; but she also demands he be perfect and is furious when he isn't. She'll protect him from ANY perceived external threat; but she'll tough love him into being the kind of success she thinks he should be. He learns early that when he screws up, he can often redirect his mother's anger by pointing his finger and saying it's someone else's fault, and she'll bring the wrath of heaven down on them. Woe to the teacher who gives Bill an F on a test.

🔺 I'm on a quest to write Bill as a foil to the entire cast of Gravity Falls, and that extends to writing his family as a foil to the entire cast's families. Scalene's a blend of Pacifica's mom and Caryn: beautiful, proud of her beauty, afraid of losing her youth, self-aggrandizing, quick to lie about her & her family's (false/exaggerated) accomplishments—and very aware of the fact that you can say anything about woo-woo mystical matters and nobody can prove you wrong.

🔺 So she takes it great when they figure out Bill is, like, legit psychic. And by "takes it great" I mean "starts a cult."

There's what I've got on Scalene. Fortunately, I got to keep all my pre-TBOB headcanons about Bill's mom, I only had to change her shape & color. I already had medical trauma baked right into the family!

(Preemptive disclaimer before I get any "but she doesn't look 2D" comments: we all understand that the baby Bill picture we see in the book is a psychically-generated 3D approximation of Bill's 2D Euclidean form, right? And that drawing a 3D baby Bill design alongside rigidly 2D parent designs would make it look like even in the second dimension Bill already had a 3D body, right? So, if we're drawing a 3D baby Bill and want to convey that they looked similar to him, we have to draw his parents in a similar art style, right? Okay, great.)

[mellowwillowy]

Yan! Lawyer Husband x GN Spouse Reader HCs

CW: mafia related stuffs

—𝒀𝒂𝒏𝒕𝒐𝒃𝒆𝒓 - 𝑳𝑰𝒇𝑬 𝑷𝒓𝒐𝒋𝒆𝒄𝒕 𝑬𝒗𝒆𝒏𝒕

Yan! Husband is a gentle soul to you, he can't and will never lay a finger with the meaning to hurt you! He just doesn't have the strength to do so, almost as though he was set to be so. It's another whole story when it comes to the others though, can you guess how many times he has pulled the trigger of a gun?

Yan! Husband who spoils you rotten with everything you could ever think of. Luxuries, reputations but never the forbodden knowledge he has tried so hard to keep away from you. No, he won't clip your wings. You are his songbird who gets to only fly inside the gilded cage but never in the outside world. He will create a stage of the outside world for you, but never the real deal.

Yan! Husband who paints a portrait of you whenever he's stressed over the cases he has to handle. To move the brush without any problem as your form starts to appear on the blank canvas, he has no trouble remembering you. Sculpting is no problem for him as well. He has spent all his lives honing his artistic skill just to eternalize you as pieces of art.

Yan! Husband loves you so much that he deems children as a burden and bothersome (adoptive too). He only needs you to build a family, he had no need for children to continue this lineage. His whole life revolves around you. If you pass away, he too, will pass away shortly after. That's how much he loves you to the point that death cannot separate you two.

Yan! Husband who might not look like he's able to do it but he is actually an S-rank gaslighter. He will trick you into believing that what he is suggesting is only to keep you safe! He doesn't really enjoy taking your autonomy directly unless it's needed (of course, in a way where you will not confront him about it).

Yan! Husband who will cover and remove all your bad track records (if you have any). He has the power and connection to erase any kind of dirt that is on you, you are his pristine pure lily-of-the-valley and you should not be defiled with those records. Live without any worry clouded in your mind dear, the laws will never tarnish your reputation when you have this lawyer backing you ^^

Yan! Husband who adores any sort of physical touch when it comes to you, yes, anything. Even if you hit him silly, he'd still love every moment your skin feels his. He loves hugging you the most, his face buried into the crook of your neck while taking a scent of you.

Yan! Husband who enjoys humming lullaby of yours to the point everyone's ears around him is bleeding from the repeating lullaby. Can this guy please hum something else for once?

Yan! Husband who will read for you whenever he has the time to sleep with you. He doesn't know what to say to you as his work is either foreign to your brain or a tad too shady. Childhood memories are not great too as he has long forgotten about everything the moment he pledges eternal vow to love you. He abandoned everything and lives only for you.

Yan! Husband who prioritizes you as his number one, even above his own well-being and career. He can still live even if he falls ill, his career would never fall out of track as he has the mafia under his grasp, but you can slip out of his grasp. And he doesn't want that to happen again.

Yan! Husband is without a doubt an infamous lawyer. Especially with how many times he has let the ringleader of that renowned mafia group slip out from the prosecutor and judge's grip? If you seriously think you'll be pronounced guilty of that murder, you better throw that thought out just like how he throws all the scapegoats and falsified evidence into the court. (Should I write a fic for this?)

Yan! Husband who will always make time for the two of you. While vacations are not as often as he wishes he could have, cuddles and tea parties sound nice enough for him to kill time with you.

Yan! Husband who has this cute journal that's filled with what you have been doing every day instead of his own daily stuff. Oh, your diary is almost his if you know how he reads it daily like a refreshment.

Yan! Husband who as much as he hates having to show you to the people at the official parties and events he has to attend, he just can't shake away the butterflies in his stomach as well! You are not just some trophy spouse, you are his beloved! A hand on your waist and a face that is seen whispering sweet nothings into your ear with a glass in his other hand. Oh, he looks so o-godly-handsome like a man who comes out from a romance novel!

Yan! Husband who is a man of greed, the embodiment of Mammon. Wealth is not something that he has never not possessed. So whatever the fuck you do, gambling or blowing it off somewhere in a dumb investment or stock, he won't make a fuss out of it. Instead, he'll teach you more about money management instead :/

"Do you want to learn how to invest? I know a way or two from my predecessor."

He will let you play all the money game you want and gives you the illusion of success despite all the trials and errors you made (he's the one who clean up all the mess lol)

I know that this is AFAB! oriented BUT Yan! Husband never wishes to impregnate you even once. No, he doesn't like the idea of you being in pain over a damn baby(ies) that could just take your life as well. He does enjoy fucking you without any protection on but that is after he tracks your safe day (man is literally fighting the fate of having you pregnant). He prefers you to not consume any birth control for just in case it causes harm rather than good to you. (Shots are a pass if you are scared of syringes)

He is A-OK with adopting if you are persistent enough about this matter and is B-OK if you want to get pregnant (AFAB). He just can't refuse and upset you...

So please don't imagine what would happen if darling dies during delivery :)

Yan! Husband who will always open his pocketwatch and kiss the picture of you in his pocket watch. How many times and lives had passed just for him to enjoy the solace of being your husband?

𝐀 𝐝𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐦𝐜𝐚𝐭𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐛𝐲 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐛𝐞𝐝𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐜𝐚𝐭𝐜𝐡 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐞𝐬, 𝐡𝐞 𝐢𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐝𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐦𝐜𝐚𝐭𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐫.

Yulian de Alpheus is a man of ambition. While he does share the same look as his 'father', the ambition he has is the complete opposite of Castiel. Castiel created him to seek the truth of life, Adam existed to be the Genesis of Life, Alan existed to be someone he didn't recognize and Yulian existed to live beneath the shadow of his spouse.

𝐘𝐮𝐥𝐢𝐚𝐧 𝐡𝐚𝐬 𝐧𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐛𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐚 𝐡𝐮𝐦𝐚𝐧 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐲𝐞𝐭 𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐚𝐥𝐰𝐚𝐲𝐬 𝐟𝐞𝐞𝐥 𝐚𝐥𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐢𝐭 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐲𝐨𝐮. 𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐢𝐬 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐨𝐧𝐥𝐲 𝐬𝐚𝐥𝐯𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧.

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(send ask/message to be removed from taglist)

[tawnysoup]

I ADORE your art and how well you match the ISAT artstyle. I've been being alot of studies to try replicate the style and draw characters 3d but stylised. Are there any tutorials that have helped you, studies you do, or things you keep in mind whilst drawing to make the characters look so 3d?

Oooaaahh thank you!!! This is a really good question. I say that because I feel like I "2D cheat" ISAT art a lot. It's very comfy to draw bc my normal art is like that too, with angles that shouldn't be able to exist but look right bc it's 2D so your brain forgives it. Design of the art > accuracy of the anatomy, y'kno?

The hair kind of gives it away in most cases. It's meant to be such a specific shape, it kind of stops looking like the character if it gets too 3D? But drawing it more 3D has huge utility too, especially for animation n stuff. It's just something I've noticed about the style! It's very designed for 2D. It's very "the shape of the lines" > "the shape of the 3D object"

It's helpful to remember that ISAT characters are all made up of really simple shapes. Like Siffrin's head is just a ball from nearly any angle but the side. Their body is a cylinder but one end is wider than the other. Odile's face is a ball but the bottom is long, like an oval. Isa's is a ball but his chin is square, it has soft corners. Even Bonnie's face is a ball you just add a cheek bump. Etc etc.

^Notice how i can't simplify the hat down into a consistent 3D shape bc otherwise it just. kind of. doesn't look like Siffrin's hat LOL

If you have the simple 3D shapes down then the rest of it is all 2D cheating and focussing on details! Having character refs nearby at all times especially when ur tryna figure out how to draw the character is KEY so you can keep looking at it and comparing. Try to pay attention to the little quirks of the art style that differ from yours and try to mimic them. But don't be afraid to let your style infect it a bit if it helps you to create something more dynamic looking.

It helps that i've been drawing for ages. I know 'practice' is the age old advice but here's my spin on it: just draw, keep drawing what u want no matter if it looks bad or if some professional artist tells you you're doing it wrong. So long as you keep drawing you are learning. Indulge and draw what you want so you get to keep all the motivation and keep going.

oh and PUSH YOUR POSES/EXPRESSIONS!!! By this I mean, draw it once, and then lower the opacity and draw it again on top but pushing everything a little bit further. If a pose feels stiff this tends to fix it.

uhmmm i rambled on for ages but i hoped it helped u Tea (or anyone else reading)! thank u for the excuse to draw a bunch of funny isat doodlies :D keep going you have GOT THIS!!! THERE IS NO WRONG WAY TO MAKE OR ENJOY ART! YAY

[apartmentsmoke]

Evan tells Tommy that he's babysitting Jee, but he still really wants to spend time with Tommy, if Tommy doesn't mind - and Tommy accepts. Jee's part of Evan's family, and Howie's family, and how bad can hanging out with a three-year-old - almost four, he is told by her in the car - be anyway? What he's expecting is a night on the couch watching Frozen. (Kids still like that, right?) Maybe tea parties. What he does not expect is that Evan already has an outing planned to Chuck-E-Cheese. Surprise - Chuck-E-Cheese still exists. He would've sworn they went bankrupt back in 2020.

He's not sure what Jee is going to think of him, but she remembers him from the hospital as "Uncle Buck's dirty friend" and accepts his presence easily enough. She keeps her hand in Evan's as they walk into Chuck-E-Cheese. It's one of the cutest things Tommy's ever seen. There's a thousand kids around, laughing and crying and shouting. He only has to focus on one, he tells himself, and lets Jee lead him and Evan through the maze of games. She stops at a claw machine and demands that her Uncle Buck win her a rabbit toy. After ten minutes, fifteen dollars, and Tommy tagging in, they finally succeed. The next two hours are filled with more exploitative games, the greasiest fucking pizza Tommy's ever had, and Jee spending five minutes deliberating between two similarly-colored bouncy balls to exchange for her tickets. Throughout it all, Evan's patience never wavers, even when they lose Jee for five minutes in the crowd and have to search for her. She's hiding under the air hockey table.

Tommy's doing his best to keep up. He's led all over the place, recruited to help with games, and tries to make sense of Jee's non-sequiturs. While they're standing in line for the bouncy ball, Evan nudges him. There's a big smile on his face. "I know this isn't an ideal date. Thanks for being here." "Of course," Tommy says, and he nudges Evan back. "I like getting to know your family, Evan." It's not what he expected, but seeing first-hand how full of love Evan's family is, how much love he has for them - he wouldn't trade it. Not even for the bluest bouncy ball. Evan's smile grows even wider. They're almost out the door when Jee spots a photo booth and hones in. "I wanna photo," she says, tugging at Evan's hand, and Tommy dutifully follows along. He'll - wait out here, he guesses, while Evan and Jee take their photo. They wouldn't all fit, anyway. It's a little awkward, hanging around the photo booth, but it's fine. They disappear behind the curtain for a moment and Tommy can hear Jee's high, insistent voice and Evan chuckling and responding, though he can't make out the words. Jee and Evan poke their heads out a second later. "You too!" Jee says, and Evan echoes her with a grin. "Yeah, you too. Get in here." They quickly learn there is no way the photo booth is going to fit them all. Tommy fits maybe a third of his body in. Evan frowns, then lights up again. "Hey, Jee, why don't we get out for a second? Then Tommy can sit down and I can sit on his lap and you can sit on my lap. Okay?" "Okay," she says, so Tommy squeezes in, and a second later Evan plops all two hundred pounds of himself and thirty pounds of Jee onto his lap.

"Evan," he hisses, and Evan grins at him, unrepentant. "Smile for the camera, Tommy," he says, and Tommy finds that his smile comes easily, especially when Evan turns to kiss his cheek on the last photo. After they scrabble out of the photo booth, Evan looks down at the strip of photos and their wide, grinning faces. "Oh, yeah. That's going on the fridge for sure." "For sure," Jee repeats for emphasis, and looks up at Tommy expectantly. "For sure," he says, and he's met with twin smiles.

[this fic has matching art by @aringofsalt! it's adorable and you should definitely go take a look]

[readwritealldayallnight]

Hello, I love your writing and I'm so sorry to bother you but I'd like to request... it may sound stupid and feel free to ignore this, maybe I'm just venting. Could you do a ghost comforts reader about their hair. Went to the hair salon today and the hairdresser cut off 7inches of my hair 😭. I know it's been said many times before but I literally feel like someone clipped my angel wings. Haven't stopped crying ever since. Hope you're doing good :,)

You were meant to call Simon to come pick you up after your hair appointment was finished, but after the stylist finally spun you around in the chair to face the mirror, you decided you needed the almost 30 minute walk home to be alone with your thoughts

You didn’t want to make this into a big deal when you saw him, it was just hair after all, you could practically already hear his deep Manchester accent telling you that it would grow back in no time

But another part of you was feeling slightly heartbroken, having gone in to the salon for what you hoped would only be a trim, an inch or two off the ends, and instead walked out with an entirely new haircut, wondering if the hairdresser had even been paying attention when you specified you wanted just a small cut

You haven’t had hair this short in a long, long time. Long before you knew Simon. And while you doubt he would ever have anything negative to say about, especially once he sees how bothered you are by it, small part of you can’t help but to worry about what his reaction will be

You feel your phone buzz in your pocket, taking your mind off your pessimistic thoughts for a moment. Glancing at the screen, you see Simon has texted you

Si <3 : ‘Nearly done?’

You : ‘I’m almost home actually, decided to walk’

Si <3 : ‘???’

You : ‘You’ll see’

You : ‘:(‘

Turning the corner and spotting your building, you steady yourself with a deep breath, figuring it’ll be easier to just rip the bandaid off so to speak, and get this stupid reveal over with

Walking up to your front door with keys jingling in hand, you’re surprised when the door swings open before you even have a chance to find your right key, your mountain of a man evidently stood there waiting for you

“What are you doin’, walkin’ home for-” He cuts himself off when his eyes notice the change, irises darting from shoulder to shoulder, over your head again and again before landing on the sour expression on your face

“She took off so much more than I wanted.” You try not to literally whine as you squeeze past his hulking frame to slip into the flat, knowing he’ll be following right behind you. “It was only supposed to be a trim. Now I look-”

“Beautiful.” He cuts you off this time, your head whipping around to see if he’s truly making fun of you right now, but you find no trace of teasing or joking across his expression. Instead, you almost think you see the faintest tint of red creeping across his pale cheeks, his eyes constantly moving as they have trouble deciding where to land on you, taking in your new appearance in a way similar to someone admiring art work in a museum

“What?” You question, wondering if you’d misheard him. Or maybe the countless head injuries were finally catching up to him and he’d confused beautiful with horrendous

He takes a tentative step closer to you, reaching a hand out to slowly run his fingers across the newly cut ends of your hair

“You look beautiful, love. Don’t ya think?” He asks you, digits still gently playing with your locks

“I mean- not really, no. I didn’t want it this short.” You say, though your distaste for the cut is slowly diminishing as you witness just how much the man in front of you adores you

“Think it’s pretty.” He mutters, bringing his other hand up to join the exploration of your hair now. “Haven’t seen ya like this before.”

“You like it?” You ask timidly.

“Mhmm.” He hums in confirmation, stepping even closer to you now, coming around to stand behind you with his hands on your shoulders. “Makes it even easier to do this.” He adds, gently brushing your locks away from your neck before pressing a kiss as gentle as a butterfly below your ear, venturing his lips down tot he side of your neck, your collarbone, any skin his mouth can find

“I- I guess so.” You agree, slinking your own arm back to wrap around his neck, holding him closer to you. “Didn’t realize you’d like it. Was sure you were just gonna tell me ‘it’s hair, it grows back’.” He snorts at your weak attempt to mimic his voice, utterly butchering the accent. You can’t help but let out a small chuckle as well, feeling much lighter now than you did when the stylist first picked up their scissors.

“You’re a smart girl, lovey. Don’t need me tellin’ you that.” He replies, muscular arms coming to wrap around your middle, keeping you as close as he physically can. “You’ll need to show me how to write a review online though. They can’t have my girl coming home this sad and not expect consequences.”

First of all, thank you so much for the love and don’t you or anyone ever apologize for sending in requests or just ranting to me, I always love to hear from you

Second, I’m so sorry your haircut didn’t go the way you wanted :( that can be so tough, but hopefully this short lil drabble puts a smile on your face

Hope you’re doing well!

- M 🫶🏻

[archangeldyke-all]

@sumilane made this gorgeous art and i wrote a little something for it! i posted it already last night as a reblog but i'm going to make it it's own post so gio can add more art to it!! eeek!!!

men and minors dni

sevika is feeling strangely vulnerable.

it could be the bottle of whiskey the two of you have been sharing this evening. it could be that silco, the one person she knew best in the world, is gone now. it could even be the brat he left behind for her to take care of who's been slowly worming her way into sevika's heart throughout the time spent fixing up her new arm and changing their looks together.

it could just be you, though. the sorta-sad, mostly resigned look in your eye as you lament your relationship woes to sevika.

"i dunno... every time i think i could have something with someone-- not even like, marriage, but y'know-- just someone to share some intimacy with-- something happens and it doesn't work. after a while i just start to think maybe it's not the circumstances that are fucked up 'n maybe it's just me."

"bullshit." sevika spits, shaking her head and quickly refilling her glass with more whiskey. she has to do something with her hands to keep from reaching across the table and shaking your shoulders as she speaks. "y-you're fine. perfect--" she cuts herself off, a furrow in her brow as she glares at her whiskey.

you snort. sevika's adorable when she's tipsy, stumbling over her words and staring into space. fuck. you need to stop rambling about your heartache to the woman you're hopelessly in love with. "i-i'm sorry for dumping this shit on you sev. 's boring and stupid and--"

"no, shut up, it's just--" sevika blinks up at you then curls in on herself in a manner that's almost... shy. she clears her throat and looks away for a moment, almost whispering. "i-i'd marry you."

you blink.

"what?"

"i'm saying you're fuckin' stupid if you think you don't have options." sevika mutters, hunching her shoulders so much she looks small.

you're heart's beating a mile a fucking minute, and you squeak when you bite your tongue to make sure you aren't dreaming. "you said you'd marry me?"

"fuckin'-- obviously only in some hypothetical world where you were into me." sevika shrugs. "but...yeah." she grunts, before reaching out and drowning the whiskey in her glass, muttering a "fuck." under her breath.

you blink a few times, tears spontaneously bubbling up in your vision and a lump forming in your throat. "i was under the impression that i didn't have a shot with you." you whisper.

sevika's eyes fly to yours, wide and shocked. "what the fuck would make you think that?!"

"j-just..." you trail off, gulping again. "you're the most interesting, attractive woman i've ever met, and i am one of about a thousand other fuckin' people in zaun who think so. a-and we've been friends for years and you never said anything..." you trail off as sevika stumbles out of her booth and over to yours, shoving in beside you and cornering you against the wall, clutching your jaw with both of her hands as she stares down at you-- bewildered.

"is this a dream?" she asks.

"i bit my tongue to check-- it's real."

"i-i was serious y'know. i'll take you down to the courthouse tomorrow morning." she says, her voice shaky and sincere.

suddenly, the full reality of the situation hits you, and you burst into laughter. "i-i've been in love with you for years." you admit through giggles. "years!"

sevika starts to giggle too. "m-me too."

"and your fucking haircut is so hot all i've wanted to do for the past two weeks is kiss yo--"

sevika cuts you off with her lips to yours, and you sigh, wrapping your arms around her shoulders.

it's a drunk, sloppy kiss-- years of tension and yearning finally bubbling to the surface as sevika attempts to pin you to the booth.

you have every intention of letting her do just that when she pulls away, grinning down at you.

"you really bit your tongue, didn't you? i can taste the blood in your mouth." she asks.

you nod, clawing at her desprately as you try to get her to kiss you again. sevika grins, swooping in to do just that-- but when she pulls away the second thime with her leps stained with your blood, you gasp. "oh, shit!"

"i tried to tell you." sevika giggles.

"do i need stitches? can you give stitches to a tongue?" you ask.

"this really puts a dent in all my plans." sevika cackles. you snort, and she passes you the bottle. "drink. it'll wash the blood away."

"w-what plans?" you ask as you take a swig.

"the plans i had for your tongue."

you choke, whiskey spraying everywhere as you cackle.

sevika--covered in your spit, blood, and whiskey-- smiles so wide you think her face might crack.

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