#he has somewhat of a :] smile on one drawing from the ref and i love it and make it a necessary trait bc who stops me

[tanasha-not-yet]

'ohhhhh i wanna do a finished rendered drawing of him so bad like that one fish shitpost itll be so detailed and rendered and smooth'

*proceeds to make a pseudolineart using 14 colors in summary*

[universallydestinytaco]

A Wild Nerve-Ending on a Friday Night (Oneshot)

*mood music*

Well, tonight is the end of S2, beautiful friends…it’s been a lot of fun. I’d like to thank each and every one of you who made this off the wall, chaotic shitposting journey with us. This blog wouldn’t have been anything without y’all! Hopefully this show left us with some good memes….

So, until S3, I’m gonna keep writing silly little fanfics like this! Stay gold, critters.

….bang. /ref

Inspired by this post from @friendlysmiler

Pim is canonically quite the party animal himself from what we saw in everyone’s favorite episode so who knows what hijinks the little pink imp gets into? XD

Side Note: Bill and Smormu are not only both alive here but they’re a wlw couple here, Bill is a he/him lesbian and Smormu is transfemme and sapphic, because that’s how I roll.

Monday, 7:15am

A fresh start to a brand new week at the Smiling Friends charity has officially began as everyone punched in and awaited their breakfast Alan theatrically-prepared while he channeled his inner Joichiro Yukihira in the breakroom kitchen.

Charlie was scrolling through his phone while smirking at old Rage Comics from over a decade ago with Glep watching on his shoulder and making a similar goofy smirk while Pim happily drew a picture of his co-workers in colored pencils to stick onto the fridge while quietly singing a song from one of his comfort shows.

“Take a moment to think of juuuust, flexibility love and truuust~”

Once Pim colored inside the lines, he hopped out of his chair and scurried to the fridge to display his masterpiece. “Excuse me, I’m just going to grab the cheese to melt over our deluxe omelette.” asked Alan in his usual monotone voice while Pim let out a nervous squeak while stepping out of Alan’s way. While Alan grabbed what he needed he inspected Pim’s drawing a with an impressed smile. “I really like your picture here, you even perfectly replicated my scales.”

Pim started excitedly fidgeting his hands as he chirped: “Thank you, Alan, I always find it weird whenever people draw you, they tend to forget or deliberately leave it out. I think your scales are beautiful!” Alan got a bit bashful while trying to stay focused on finding the cheese grater, uttering a somewhat-shaker “Thank you, you’re too kind….damn can’t find it, don’t want to burn the omelette so I’ll just-“ Alan grabbed a knife and precisely peeled thin-layers of cheddar to gently lay on top of the fluffy eggy clouds seasoned with garden-fresh herbs and spring onions.

Charlie couldn’t resist making a cheap shot at his slinky red co-worker: “Hey guys, Alan cut the cheese.”, such was a line that caused him and Glep to burst into laughter as if they where in grade school. Alan, who was serving plates carrying slices of the omelette, wasn’t amused and was tempted to gift the two wisecracking ingrates each an equally-tasteless surprise of pulling a Glep into their food, but took the high-brow road with a classy remark: “Let’s switch the conversation to a topic with actual substance…so, how did everyone’s weekend go?”

Charlie piped up first: “I played through the entirety of this one cool RPG for two days straight then when I finally beat it I celebrated getting wasted at the bar before getting kicked out for starting another brawl and spent all Sunday sleeping off my hangover.” He lifted his right sleeve to reveal the cherry on top: “On the way home I got this bitchin’ tattoo.” Lovingly detailed on Charlie’s arm was a crudely-drawn snake-dragon thing with arms breathing fire.

Alan then turned to Pim, asking: “How was yours?” to which Pim casually replied: “Oh, nothing much, the highlight was me and some friends hanging out at a pool.”

…

Friday, 6:00pm ~ Three Nights Ago…

Pim was sneaking around with a group of familiar faces as the moon hung in the sky like a charm on a bracelet, a chorus of snickering harmonized with the chirping crickets and the hooting owls. They stop at their final destination: the fence barring access to a familiar estate from the common folk….that didn’t stop the wild bunch from helping each other break in by climbing over and slipping through. Greeting the mischievous party was a grandiose pool yard just begging for the crowd to jump in. “Ah, the perks of having connections with an A-List Celebrity….” Pim monologued to himself, before taking his shirts and shorts off revealing underneath was a hot sparkly teal one-piece with a star-shaped hole at the back for his pollywog tail to peek through. Smormu, who wore a pink floral-print bikini under her button-up and capri-pants whispered to Pim: “Are you sure we’re not going to get caught?” Pim replied with a grin: “Don’t worry, love, Mr. Frog’s out and about somewhere, probably at a crummy bar, and probably causing his usual commotions there so he isn’t too concerned with whatever’s happening here.” As Duncan and Dj Spitz set the mood by the former playing a 90s bop out of a retro boombox and the latter breaking out the booze, Everyone stampeded over to the pool in unison, each individual jumping in the cold crisp waters in various amusing ways as the loud victory cry of “GERONIMOOOO!!!!” bursted out of the ever-excitable Filmore’s mouth like a firework into the sky. It was a rip-roaring time with just a hint of good-old-fashioned chaos, just the way Pim liked it.

Just three nights night ago around this time, Pim was uncontrollably sobbing to himself in a pillow over the fact that his fickle sister Amy invited literally everyone she knew to her wedding… except for her ever-loyal and loving baby brother, bragging about having Mr. Frog as a celebrity guest. Sick of crying his eyes out and being excluded from his family’s lives on a daily basis, he figured he could have a celebration of his own! The only downside was his co-workers having plans of their for that weekend, otherwise he would have invited them over for this late-night dive.

“A toast to our dear comrade and member of the Pennsylvania UFO-Hunting Squad, the ever-lovable Pimling!” Bill proposed as he raised his glass, everyone followed suit, chanting Pim’s name, except for a heavily-intoxicated Dj Spitz pounding in his chest and hollering out: “FUCK YEAH ROCK ON LIL PINK MAN!!!” Of course Pim immediately got flustered, his face turned a vivid shade of hot pink as a result of all the positive attention while mustering the confidence to reply until grinning sheepishly and raising his own glass, stuttering: “T-thank you everyone, you’re all too kind…all this hype about little ol’ me.” In a rush off of the praise and the sheer audacity of his actions, he chugged his drink down without a second thought. Everything after that was a string of vague, discombobulated visions of what happened in-between the rest of the night…

Saturday, 5:02am

It was a very early morning when the dizzy, light-headed Pim woke up front-facing the twilight sky melting into daytime, getting up and finding himself floating inside Mr. Frog’s grandiose fountain in front of his house until he immediately snapped out of it upon just noticing the strewn toilet paper and graffiti all over the statue. In a panic, Pim swam out and scurried around looking for everyone else and making sure nobody was left behind, his heart raced discovering more of the shameless if not karmic defilement of Mr. Frog’s property: overturned lawn chairs with one thrown into a window, discarded junk inside the pool and the jacuzzi, more TP strewn around like party streamers and someone’s trunks (presumably Duncan’s) hung like a flagpole like a comical take on a windsock. It seemed everyone except Pim had taken off before sunrise if not gotten arrested. Combined with the panic attack he was getting and the unambiguous symptoms of a hangover reeking havoc on his body, Pim tried to reach for a trash can to stress-vomit until he collapsed and relieved his bile in the jacuzzi. Minutes went by as Pim felt weak like a newborn kitten, prepared for the legal trouble he was about to get himself in if Mr. Frog wasn’t going to maim him Spamtopia-style first….just then a familiar voice rang in Pim’s ears that filled him with relief, Pim’s eyes cracked open as he started upward at a sober Bill holding the hand of his stumbling partner, Smormu. “Morning, buddy, need a hand?” Pim responded without so much words as it was a tired grunt and raising his stubby pink hand to initiate Bill and Smormu helping their friend up. “Let’s hurry and get out of here, unless we wanna throw a party in the county tank.” Bill chuckled.

Later that day saw a double-dose of tea and drama Pim was secretly and gleefully catching up with, from Pim’s mother recanting to Pim how much of a disaster Amy’s wedding was when Mr. Frog showed his ass once again by getting drunk and trashing the place, even spilling red wine on her wedding dress. Then the news that Mr. Frog came home to his place utterly savaged, claiming he’d seek revenge on the purp but considering the type of person he was, everyone assumed that Frog did it himself after coming home from the wedding he was invited too and was too drunk to remember.

Monday, 7:27am

Pim finished with an uproar of laughter from his co-workers plus Mr. Boss, all of them in shock and awe that the one always perceived as the cute little “goody-two-shoes” of the Smiling Friends charity was capable of getting up to some serious frat boy-level shenanigans. Charlie felt as if he wasted his time spending his weekend the same as the last, so he asked his best friend: “Hey Pim, you think I can hang out with you next weekend?” Pim made an innocent pose, putting his finger on his lips as if he was a kid who got caught stealing from a cookie jar. “Well, maybe not same-the-same-place but I know another celebrity’s pool yard to break into! I hear the Krombledashians are hosting the Meep Gala next Saturday…”

[wiltkingart]

hey wilt 🌈 been going thru ur account this morning (apologies for possibly spamming ur notifs with likes etc) and I know you get so many of these messages but like. Idk how to communicate to you how incredible your art is. You said somewhere that colour is possibly one of the weakest parts about your art and I was like. Stunned. Bc the way you use colour .... 👀🤯😱🥵🥴🔥🔥🔥 Like. I have somewhat of a background in art history and your work feels like it could really comfortably sit alongside Michaelangelo (also bc he was gay hehe) etc. Like. Idk. Do you realise how incredible your work is???? I'm shaking you. It's literally like. Wow. I mean you must know from the other messages bc the power it has to inspire ppl to read certain media or draw things or even start hrt. Anyway. I'm shocked to my core and forever changed after this morning even tho I've been following you for a long while. I hope this doesn't come across as like patronising (the bit where I ask if you realise how good you are) bc that's not my intention at all I'm just like. In awe and basking in the glow of your brilliance and I have a really complex relationship with making art myself and almost never use colour for many reasons but I feel So inspired to make after looking at your work which is really rare for me. Idk. Your work is joyful, glittering, maddening, hopeful, inspiring, beautiful etc etc etc etc. So much love to you I hope 2023 is being good to you so far 💓💓💓💖💞

not patronizing at all! i actually haven't felt the greatest about my art lately because my health has been hanging onto the edge of a gutter. it can be exhausting to keep fighting back negative thoughts alongside other physical issues. but i know these thoughts aren't true, and i'm hanging in there. through force of will i'm getting through it :') (and starting new meds soon!)

when i say color is my weakest element i mean that it's the part i struggle the most with. i don't have a solid grasp on how it works, so i have to rely on intuition and lately i've been using more references. i feel the most limited by color due to my shaky understanding of it. it takes a lot of time and experimentation with every piece to find something that feels good. but color is a very complex element! and i can only get better thru time and perseverance, and trying to absorb as much information as i can from the refs i use.

i don't think i'll ever have a scientific understanding of color or even enough solid ground to be someone who can make tutorials or explain it to other people. but on the flipside that means i can keep using colors i like even if that means they don't make sense. there's a charm in the unnatural! there's expression in existing outside the rules! as long as i keep taking risks and keep my mind open to learning, and use colors that make me smile, i'll be alright.

thanks for the incredibly kind message, it was very unexpected especially since i haven't posted much art for a long time. i'm hopeful that spring will be a good time for me. well wishes to you and yours, and i hope that creation can become a source of freedom for you rather than complexity. if the rules don't make sense, make your own <3

[rabbitoid]

Full one by one pics and ✨commentary ✨:

George has the most challenging pose. Seriously. I had to look up so many things. He was one of the easiest to design with how simple the skin looks, a lottttt of creative freedom. The idea was to give him mad scientist vibes, it just goes with the goggles. The glasses being red tint is a ref to the colorblind video.

Dream is entirely green. Green man is green what can I say. Still Wild how the fluffy af hair actually look Somewhat similar to irl Dream. I gave him shorts and cloak to highlight(AHA) how he’s fast, agile and tricky. Kept the color scheme as small as possible. He is so green. I love him.

Sapnap was my MAIN back in the days and the bias is pretttttty clear to see. His pose was not hard but sketching this one especially made me realize I gotta be careful with the composition. This guy hold the entire pic together seriously. The lace up and bow thingy is my fav part. Had to change the color cause it was near invisible.

Badboyhalo was surprisingly hard to draw. Like damn I redo the legs about 3 times and kinda just gave up on perfecting the hands. He was 100% the easiest to color tho. Wonder why 😂. I’m really proud of how the face came out, this man just sparks joy I gotta capture that!! The blue thingy is. Intentional.

Antfrost brings a silly smile to my face when I drew him. Decided to change his head shape from the original design, now he looks Extra Fluffy and SOFT. Yes I looked up cats references, yes it look almost half an hour, no I was definitely not distracted with cute cat pictures— AND THE VELVET PIN. I’m kinda sad it’s not visible in the pic? The pose is Perfect for Ant and I wasn’t sure where to move the pin. It’s still hella cute here anyway look at himmmm

AwesamDude I have Beef with. Major beef. Actually with 2021 me. What is with the design? Why are there so many things going on? How does the chest plate work? Why is the crown thingy so detailed? Wtf were you trying to do with the hair? Seriously the actual sketch looks almost nothing like the header. I spent So Long trying to figure Something out. Ended up looking at Vergil pics, as you do. Was a little confused with the hands too but that’s old news. I mean, yeah I’m hella proud of this one it Somehow turned out fine but I straight up lose sanity figuring this one out.

Bonus : first first rough draft

MANHUNT CREW!

Pose from Ressha Sentai ToQger

Designs by me of 2021

Look at them they’re so cute. I miss manhunt something fierce.

[comfeyworks]

Alastor writing/ Character ref sheet

NOTE: This is MY interpretation/ notes of my characterization of Alastor. Most is speculation and the other parts are just me having fun imagining what his character could be like. This is no way meant to be official or taken as cannon in any way.

A wonderful user by the name of dolly moon complied a lot of information from Viv’s streams. I’m referencing some of the information here so please check them out, they did a fantastic job making notes.

Warning: Contains talk about murder, cannibalism and other possible triggering subjects.

General

---NAME: Alastor--- Died: 1933 Age: 30′s Occupation: Former radio host and serial killer. Currently powerful overlord in hell

Main Personality/ notes

Always smiling (He sees people frowning as weak)

Sadistic

Charming and charismatic

Very proud( puffed out chest, arms behind back)

He's controlling/ does things his own way

Careful! He's not too braggy, or too forceful/ demanding. Ex: Viv stated in her qna that the pilot was originally going to have Alastor boast about himself and his backstory. Instead vaggie narrates his backstory. She changed this because Alastor wasn’t the type of person to flaunt his achievements. He knows that everyone knows how powerful he is, he’s not the type to rub it in. He's supposed to be charming, but still proud, juuuust in the right way

He knows what he wants, but doesn’t necessarily brute-forces his way to get it. Ex: "He-" "-llo!" He KNOWS he's getting in hotel regardless, but waits for Charlie to open up the door before invading the hallway.

Deceitful; When asked why he wants to help out at the hotel, he says: "Consider it an investment in ongoing entertainment for myself!" 'This is what you can think my reason is...' is essentially what he's saying. He answers Charlie’s question in a roundabout way that givers her what she wants to know while still keeping his true intentions secret. Time and time again, he lets his mask down slightly when Charlie isn’t looking. At 24:10 he narrows his eyes when she has her back turned to him At the beginning of his song he distracts her with magic so he can push Vaggie away. When he says “...And it’s just laughable-” during he reprise he turns away from Charlie to say this, he leans down to Vaggie.

He’s a hypocrite (hates being touched, invades other’s personal space)

Watches people do things the hard way and then reveal he can do it once it's done just to watch people fuck up

DELIGHTS in watching people failing/ struggling to do things. He likes observing people/ sinners as they are battling with their conflicted emotions.

He’s curious (He stopped by the ‘radio shack’ place to see what Charlie was talking about on the broadcast, and cocked his head when she started singing. To me that meant, “Oh? What’s this now? Something new?” he was intrigued and wanted to know more)

He analyzes people. He looks at the Magne family portrait when left alone. You can briefly hear him playing Charlie’s “Inside of every demon is a rainbow” song, and smiling.

He picks up on things quickly. Vaggie makes it clear she doesn’t like the idea of him being there, and he messes with her. He puts his elbow on her and pushes her away ( 20:44-20:48) He pulls her chin up and tells her to ‘smile’

He’s egotistical. No one is really ‘up to his level’

He gives verbal and physical affection constantly throughout the pilot, but it’s not genuine.

Likes being unpredictable

Primary drive:   Decisions are weighed in his own wants/ feelings. He wants to be amused, he chases exciting/ entertaining things. Think of him as like a cat chasing a mouse.

Fears: He doesn’t fear anyone. But is wary of powerful threats. He dislikes dogs Physical Expression: He’s VERY, VERY expressive through his body language and eyes. Large/ easy to read emotions can be perceived through his body language (Leaning towards someone, or leaning away). Smaller/ pinpoint emotions can be read through his eyes and type of smile (Wide eyes, squinted, closed vs open smile, etc.) He’s like a bird, fluffing out his feathers constantly. (He fixes his hair briefly at 24:41) He expresses himself proudly. ‘This is who I am, remember that!!’. Viv said the reason why almost all of characters have nicknames is that a soul’s real name is dangerous, its a way others can have power over you. Yet Alastor uses his first name, because he’s not scared and confident in who he is as a person. He doesn’t hide from any aspect of himself. I’ve stated he hates being touched by others. When he picks up Nifty in the pilot, she poofs out and spreads her limbs out. At 25:41, Alastor turns his head away from her briefly so she doesn’t touch him.

Flaws/ Weaknesses:

(Note: Basically anything already stated can be a problem depending on the situation, I’m just saying things about his character that he’d find weak or naturally cause problems)

His mother, he’d do anything for her.

He has a darker/ more powerful demon side to him where he runs purely on instinct/ primitive emotions.

He’s arrogant. This can cause problems!

---

Killer/ moral compass profile (Living)

Motivations:

Thrill Killer- Pleasure from pain

Slight power/control aspect involved as well.

‘Causes’

Childhood trauma (abusive father)

Environmental factors (mother died when he was 18-20)

Type of killer: *Note: I’m still not 100% satisfied with this part, I might make some changes later*

He won’t just kill anyone. They have to meet a certain list of requirements.

Viv compared him as someone similar to Dexter

He’s a very goal oriented killer. Whatever he did it was with reason and purpose, meticulously planned. Ex: Maybe one year he’d kill someone who was a real jerk, to see how the others around him flourished. Likewise he might kill someone who was important to the community just to see how the grief made everyone react.

He was a very careful killer, he ended up dying purely on accident, bad luck.

He killed for the fun of it, pure joy, excitement, curiosity. But he only killed people he thought deserved it.

He considers what he does to be ‘work’. He expresses in the pilot how after decades in hell it’s become ‘mundane’ and ‘aimless’.

The victims had to be overconfident to some degree.(This ties into the ‘he wouldn’t chase his victims.’ They had to be somewhat full of themselves or naive)

Some kills are personal (Someone wronging him, trying to hurt him, otherwise he just wouldn’t care if some guy is an asshole) but others are just because he feels like they’re bad/ they’ve have done something that they need to die for.

He used ‘personal’ ways of killing people. (Knife, his hands). I don’t think he would have used a gun of any kind because of the noise, but he could have once every blue moon.

Generally doesn’t draw things out for too long ”...If I wanted to hurt anyone here... I would have done so already.” (He defeats Sir Pentious in under a minute. But still takes the time to crush him and drag his body across the floor.)

He ate people, and knew how to make delicious meals out of them.

Buried his victim’s bodies/ remains on a hunting ground for deer.

Morals

No human is pure or kind just because. They’re selfish beings. Who take and act to help their own causes. Everyone is a monster on the inside. “...redemption, the nonexistent humanity!”

Everyone puts on a mask to hide who they truly are. Life is one big game to see who can survive. “...the world is a stage! And the stage, is a world of entertainment!”

People don’t change “...there is no undoing what is done.”

Puts himself first, and above everyone else. He also degrades others. “I don’t think there’s any hope left for such loathsome sinners...” ”Inside of every demon is a lost cause, but we’ll dress them up for now with just a smile!” “...and show these simpletons some proper class and style...” “...do I know you?” “You think I’m [husk] some kind of fuckin’ clown!?” “...maybe!”

People deserve the consequences they get for being themselves “...the chance given was the life they lived before, the punishment is this!”

He understands what society views as good and evil, but doesn’t really believe in those standards himself. What is considered evil he just views as a hobby or something fun to explore. Ex: Cannibalism is wrong by society’s standards, but to him he thinks the greater wrong is killing something and not making use of it.

He has some level of empathy. (Again, He’d never kill a child or those running away.)

People’s emotions are a fun little game to him. “...I want to watch the scum of the earth struggle to climb up the hill of betterment! Only to repeatedly trip, and tumble down into the firey pit of failure!”

Doesn’t see value in being nice or honest. (He does find it funny to watch)

Other notes/ hc

He’s knowledgeable. In more ways than one. He knows not to fuck with certain people if he doesn’t want to get hurt, he’s got knowledge on the workings/ operations of hell and deal-making.

Likes to cook

He likes bitter things (Bloody meat, alcohol, black coffee)

He’s got a party side to him.

He speaks french!

He plays musical instruments

He knows how to fight without his powers

He’s an only child

He’s part creole

He hates silence, he always surrounds himself with noise of some kind.

Husk and Alastor have a long, complicated relationship

He does things to make Nifty happy (Wearing sweaters)

He’d go out into a hurricane just to let it beat him down for fun (Why is this so funny to me)

Despite all he is, Alastor is capable of having friends and loving.

Has absolutely NO romantic experience.

He hates modern technology in general, but hates tik tok the most

The idea of Alastor cross-dressing to lure his victims in is absolutely hilarious to me, but I don’t think he’d ever do it.

[chibimuiwritesstuff]

MMA Fighters HuaLian - Meeting

Right. I’m just going to post this. The backstory to the Hualian MMA AU idea I thought up of how they initially met. This is not edited btw, so apologies for any errors.

----

They meet in a match.

Xie Lian has met many people in matches before, he is one of the best MMA fighters out there after all, so usually he doesn’t remember most of his opponents—but he remembers this one. He remembers him because he is tall (not an issue), lanky (he’s experienced enough to know skinniness doesn’t mean lack of strength), has an eyepatch covering his right eye (a handicap?) and is absolutely, ridiculously, unfairly, gorgeous.

The referee counts to three, the whistle blows, and Xie Lian tenses and is surprised when the other man barely moves a muscle. Just looks at him, expression unreadable. There’s an intensity to his gaze, but it’s not the usual look of a fellow fighter preparing to attack, it’s… it’s something else. It unsettles Xie Lian for a moment, makes his heart beat just a bit faster, but, well, if his opponent will not make the first move then that’s their mistake.

A rookie perhaps?

He launches forward and feels his heart sing when the man not only catches his blow, but dodges to the side in a way that looks effortless, but Xie Lian knows speaks of unbridled skill. Not a rookie then.

Not a rookie at all in fact.

The match is one of the toughest Xie Lian has had in ages. The other man is incredibly defensive and catches Xie Lian’s punches, kicks and feints blow for blow, although rarely making an effort to strike out himself. It’s mildly frustrating, somewhat confusing, and incredibly invigorating. It’s fun. It’s a joy Xie Lian hasn’t truly felt in a fight in ages. He dances around and is somewhat glad for the mask he wears so no one can see the ridiculously large smile he can feel stretching across his face. This is why he loves martial arts. This is why he loves fighting. So that he can dance with people like the man in front of him.

He’s almost sad when he finally manages to pin the other man on the ground for a count of three, and the referee blows the whistle again.

‘Winner, give it up for The Crown Prince!’

The referee holds his hand up, but Xie Lian can’t take his eyes off his opponent, who by this point is already sitting up and also looking back at Xie Lian as well. He looks unphased, unruffled. He does not look like a man who has just lost a fight. In fact, the small smile on his face somehow makes it seem like he was the winner of this match somehow.

His is registered under the fighter name ‘Crimson Rain Sought Flowers’. The people in the mixed martial arts underground call him Hua Cheng.  

Xie Lian remembers him and looks forward to the day he might be able to fight him again.

-

It takes another year before Xie Lian is able to meet Hua Cheng again—and it’s not for lack of trying. After their one match he had tried to seek him out, find out more information about this mysterious opponent who had stepped into the ring and fought with Xie Lian like he had just decided to do it on a whim, but there was nothing. There had been no previous fight records, and no fights he had signed up for afterwards. It was truly as if he had just appeared to fight Xie Lian and then left.

Mu Qing had commented dryly that maybe he had scared the other man off, as he did to so many other earnest newcomers, but Xie Lian didn’t see how that was possible. Hua Cheng had not been a rookie fighter, and Feng Xin had agreed on this as well. But, whatever the reason—Hua Cheng had never reappeared until now.

Once again Hua Cheng stands before him looking deceptively relaxed. If Xie Lian were anyone else he might have felt insulted. After all, he had won their last fight—Hua Cheng should look at least somewhat wary. But he doesn’t. Instead something about his expression makes Xie Lian feel like he’s just as excited for this match as Xie Lian is himself. Xie Lian smiles under his mark, forgetting for a moment that Hua Cheng can’t see his face. It’s nice, to face an opponent who not only isn’t intimidated by him, but appears just as excited and actually has the skill to back up their own air of confidence.

Xie Lian’s heart skips a beat as he catches Hua Cheng’s single eye and can’t help but shiver in anticipation of the match to come.  

The whistle blows, and this time Xie Lian waits. He wants to see what Hua Cheng will do, but Hua Cheng does nothing. In fact, the both of them stand still for so long, the audience begins boo-ing and Xie Lian’s mounting excitement begins to curl into confusion, and then into frustration.

Hua Cheng merely raises an eyebrow, “What is gege waiting for?” he drawls, smirking.

“I could ask you the same question.” Xie Lian replies.

Hua Cheng nods his head, as if he’s considering Xie Lian’s words very seriously, “Hm… that’s true.” And then he launches himself forward.

Xie Lian had been prepared, this is what he had wanted after all, but it shows just how skilled Hua Cheng is that for a second Xie Lian can’t track his movements at all and he is hit with a spike of surprise. It is only through muscle memory, born from hours and hours of training, that allows Xie Lian to effectively dodge Hua Cheng’s fist, following immediately with a counterattack of his own, which Hua Cheng also effortlessly dodges in return.

They continue like this for a few bouts, and it’s similar enough to their last match that it causes Xie Lian to pause. Despite Hua Cheng opening with the first strike, they’ve somehow fallen into a pattern where Xie Lian is on the offensive and Hua Cheng only defends and it’s… it’s frustrating. Xie Lian has never really cared about the actual competition itself, he simply joined matches for the sake of being able to fight others who were just as crazy about fighting as him, and so now he just feels incredibly put-out that it seems like Hua Cheng isn’t taking things seriously.

He stills, pulls out of his last punch and as expected, Hua Cheng jerks his arm back at the last second as well instead of taking the obvious opening to his advantage. Once again, they’re just two opponents, standing in the cage, staring at each other but neither of them moving. Neither of them have even taken a stance—standing almost casually, albeit somewhat alert. The crowd has also noticed the pattern of the fight, and some bystanders have begun jeering at Hua Cheng specifically.

“Come on! Put up a proper fight or just get out!”

“Don’t waste His Highness’ time!”

Both of them stand and listen to the calls of the crowd and while Xie Lian usually doesn’t like to encourage this sort of heckling, he can’t help but cock his head to the side and ask, “Well, are you going to take this seriously?” because what other conclusion is there to draw from this bout? It’s obvious that Hua Cheng doesn’t want to beat Xie Lian at all, doesn’t even really want to fight him at all. It doesn’t make sense and it makes Xie Lian wonder why he’s even here.

Hua Cheng simply smirks at him, but his posture doesn’t change. “What makes you think I’m not taking this seriously, dianxia?”

“You’re not even trying to go on the offensive. Any other person would have felt insulted by now.” Xie Lian replies.

“Well, it’s good that you’re not any other person then isn’t it?”

His voice is low and velvety smooth and it makes Xie Lian feel warm for reasons besides physical exertion. “Perhaps, but I also refuse to continue a match with someone who clearly doesn’t want to engage.”

He turns to the referee who also looks like he’s one second away from giving both of them warnings and it’s this that finally seems to pull a genuine reaction out of Hua Cheng.

“Wait--!”

Xie Lian turns and cock his head to the side again in question, since Hua Cheng can’t see his face.

“You’ve got me gege, this newcomer didn’t mean to offend. I was simply excited at being able to spar with you again and wanted to do anything to extend the time as much as possible.”

Xie Lian lets out a huff of air, feeling somewhat affronted.

“And what makes you think going on the offensive would have made the time shorter? Either you think too highly of yourself, or you are severely underestimating me.”

Hua Cheng shakes his head vehemently, “No, I can assure you I would never!”

Xie Lian signals to the ref to stand down and that he will handle things before turning back to face Hua Cheng properly once more, “Then, are you going to fight me properly?”

Hua Cheng nods.

They both return to the center of the cage and take up positions, eyeing each other warily. Since no time outs were taken, there will be no whistle to signal a new start—it is simply up to one of them to make a move.

The fight that follows leaves everyone breathless.

It is Hua Cheng that makes the first move, and when he does it is clear that he had been holding back. His attacks are quick, aggressive, and absolutely wild, but what is perhaps even more wild is how composed Xie Lian managed to remain in comparison. The only sign that he may have been struggling lay in the fact that despite the sharpness of his own moves, equally quick and unforgiving, he still had not won.

Attack are blocked, grabs and holds are escaped from and used to lead into secondary attacks, throws that would have had most fighters winded on the ground ended with miraculous recoveries with both parties somehow still on their feet. Even when the fight had devolved into wrestling, as Xie Lian struggled to pin Hua Cheng down for three counts, it was hard to see who was at an advantage—but eventually, a winner was decided.

The crowd roared with enthusiasm, a whistle was blown and as for the fighters themselves…

Xie Lian flinches when the referee grabs his wrist, having nearly forgotten where he is and what he has been doing. He had been too immersed in the fight. Too immersed in Hua Cheng. He hears nothing but the blood that is still roaring in his ears, continues to feel nothing but the soft panting of Hua Cheng’s breath on his skin as they had rolled on the ground, and sees nothing but Hua Cheng’s eyes as the other man continued to stare at him from his position on the ground—gaze dark and dangerous.

Then he blinks and he is back in the cage, his arm being held up, the crowd cheering. Hua Cheng stands and dusts himself off, calm and cool as ever, although even with the noise Xie Lian could still hear the ragged panting of his breath—matching his own laboured breathing.

“Good fight.” Xie Lian hears himself say, truly meaning it as he shakes the other man’s hand. It is warm, strong, and Xie Lian can still feel the traces of where those hands had left marks on his body. He represses the urge to shiver.

“It was truly an honor to be able to fight you again, dianxia.” Hua Cheng replies, smirking once again. Were it anyone else, Xie Lian would have been sure they were mocking him, but there was something in Hua Cheng’s voice that sounded more like reverence. Xie Lian drops the other man’s hand and laughs awkwardly, scratching the back of his head.

“I think the honor should be mine, you really didn’t make things easy for me.”

Hua Cheng doesn’t reply, and afterwards they are ushered out of the cage to make room for the next match. When Xie Lian turns his head after toweling off his sweat, Hua Cheng is already gone.

-

Feng Xin and Mu Qing both tell him to forget about Hua Cheng. They are, and have always been, Xie Lian’s best friends, so usually Xie Lian does try his best to listen to their advice—they care for him after all. But he cannot forget about Hua Cheng. During training he imagines the other man in front of him, he walks down the street and pictures fights with him in his mind, he goes from competition to competition seeking him, tries and fails to search him up on social media, but just like last time, it is like he has disappeared.

“You’re thinking about him again aren’t you,” Feng Xin grumbles as he sits down, practically throwing his tray of food onto the table of the university cafeteria.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Xie Lian replies promptly as he takes a bite of his own lunch.  

Mu Qing takes the seat beside Feng Xin, placing his tray down more gently and completely ignores Xie Lian to turn to the other man at his side, “He was thinking about him again, wasn’t he?”

“I wasn’t!”

Feng Xin has the audacity to grunt and nod as he slurps up his noodles at an alarming pace.

“Hey! I said I wasn’t!”

Mu Qing lets out a sigh that Xie Lian thinks is supremely unfair, given the fact that his friends are the ones being rude to him. Then, Mu Qing grabs something from his bag—a piece of paper it looks like, and places it on the table. “We’re only doing this because we know you won’t stop mooning about him otherwise.”

“I’m not—mooning? I’m not mooning!” Xie Lian splutters, but he grabs the paper anyway, with perhaps a bit too much enthusiasm and then stops short.

It is an address and apparently it is for a place called Ghost City. He’s heard of Ghost City. Xie Lian frowns. Before he can ask the question though, Mu Qing already gives him the answer.

“He’s there. We told you to give up on him, but we knew you wouldn’t so we thought it’d be better to just see for yourself what type of person Hua Cheng really is.”

Ghost City was an underground cage match arena—everyone who was anyone in the MMA world knew about it. It was for the fighters who desperately wanted to prove themselves beyond the world of sanctioned, formal, competitions. For the fighters who truly wanted to test their skill in a match where they had to put everything on the line. The only rule in Ghost City was the one: there were no rules. Although Xie Lian loved fighting, this was a place he had no interest in. He had never been interested in hurting and dominating others, he simply just wanted to test his skill and to experience the skills of others.

If Hua Cheng was there though…

“Please, just remember to be careful alright Xie Lian?”

Xie Lian nodded, gripping the paper more tightly than was probably necessary. He looked up at his friends, at Feng Xin who continued to studiously eat his noodles as if they had somehow offended him just by existing, and at Mu Qing who was looking somewhere off to Xie Lian’s left looking disgruntled, and smiled. “You two really are the best.”

Neither of them bothered to give him a reply, but the address was enough.

[larissaloki]

Crest Rest

so this is a OC x Sephiroth fic commision by the lovely @starsofyggdrasil man its hard to stick to a word limit but also so much fun! hope you all enjoy! this is based on an au where genesis and angeal dont degrade, sephiroth doesnt go mad and mine and her ocs are involved! enjoy! 

~~~~~

Pulling up to the Ranch; Crest Rest; in a large dusty but well-loved jeep, Angeal parked the car near the front porch that has a swing seat at one end with two arm chairs and a small wicker table. Stood on the porch eagerly awaiting her guests is Pandora.

Pandora is a petite women crimson red hair that’s been braided and pulled into a bun to keep it out of the way, a cowboy style hat on her head. She wears a faded rock band t-shirt that’s been pulled up and tied under her large bust, a plaid long sleeve shirt is open, but the bottom also pulled up and tied. Showing off her midriff while she wears black jeans that are torn at the knees and around the ankles, dirt smudged here and there from her working on the ranch. Her leather black boots also dusty and the bottoms caked in dry earth.  

Walking down the steps of the porch, she approaches the car as the five occupants climb out of it, Pandora opens her arms in greeting.

“Y’all made it! Hope you didn’t get to lost?”

A fiery red head with hair pulled up into a high pony tail, grins as she comes over to hug her. Amarisa is just a tiny bit taller than Pandora but is lean just like her older brother Reno, who is in the back exclaiming how happy he is to be out of the hot car. lastly coming out of the car is Angeal, Genesis and Sephiroth who all make their way over to take turns greeting Pandora.

“It’s nice out here, reminds me a little bit of Banora huh Gen?”

Grinning at his best friend and lover, Angeal crosses his arms across his thick chest; the small town they passed and drove through on the way to the Ranch hit both Angeal and Genesis with nostalgia. Perhaps they should take Amarisa back to Banora some time to meet their parents.

Smiling softly, Sephiroth pulls Pandora into a gentle hug and kisses her gently.

“Thankyou for the invite, I must admit I’ve never been on a ranch before,”

“Want a tour of the place and meet daddy?”

Nodding eagerly, the group follows her around the side of the ranch house. A two story building that looks like a typical farm house with a wrap around porch that goes along the front of the house and down one side. Behind the building is a massive red painted stable, next to the stable is a large pasture that goes far back and around behind the stables. At one end of the large field is what looks like a race track of some kind.

Leading a group of Chocobo’s; of varying colours, into the large open field is an elderly man with salt and pepper hair and a small beard.

“Ah Pandy, these your friends you mentioned? Morning Ama, Reno” Blaise tips his head in greeting as they approach.

“Yo ol’ man? How’s DJ?”

Chuckling, Blaise points to the stables, “In there still, the lil guy just had his breakfast”

With a jaunty salute, Reno hurries off into the stables to see his lil chocochick.

“Daddy, this is Sephiroth, Angeal and Genesis” Grinning, Pandora pulls Sephiroth closer to meet her grandfather.

“Nice to meet you sir,”

Nodding his head and taking Sephiroth’s offered hand, Blaise smiles back warmly. “It’s good to meet you boys at long last”

Letting go of Sephiroth’s hand, Blaise shakes the other guys hands before hugging Amarisa.

Behind Blaise, Sephiroth spots a black Chocobo by the fence watching the group, pacing a bit impatient.

“Hello there,” smiling a bit, Sephiroth reaches out to stroke the Chocobo. “Pandora, what’s this one’s name?”

Standing by him, Pandora affectionately pats the Chocobo on the side of its beak, “This big guy here is Velveteen, I raised him myself actually. We do many races together and work together here.”

Blinking his eyes at that curiously, Sephiroth tilts his head. “Racing? Where do you go to do that? The golden saucer?”

Laughing a bit Pandora shakes her head, “No no, at the back of this field there’s a race course I practice on and occasionally host events. We mainly do small local events”

Humming thoughtfully, Sephiroth looks at Velveteen as he strokes the soft black feathers, “how hard is it to race?”

“Pretty easy really once you get the rhythm to it-“Pausing, Pandora slowly grins and slyly looks at him. “What do you say we all have a race?”

Perking up at that, Angeal wanders over at that, “you’ve never ridden a Chocobo before Seph?”

“I haven’t”

Humming as he leans against a fence, Genesis muses quietly. “It’s been a while since I’ve ridden one, but it would be fun,”

“Winner get’s a prize and the rest help clean the stable’s?”

Narrowing his eyes at her, Sephiroth mules over this proposal.

“What’s the prize?”

“How about a bottle of my homemade brew?” Blaise, who had been sitting to the side watching and listening to this with amusement, makes his offer.

“I’d race for that!” Amarisa pipes up from her seat on the fence, running a hand through Genesis’s hair softly.

Chuckling quietly at the encouraging looks from the others, Sephiroth agrees to race, though requests 5 minutes practice as he hasn’t ridden a Chocobo before. Agreeing to that, Pandora lets him pick which bird he wishes to use, though she tells him from the get-go that Velveteen is her’s only.

Picking a yellow one, Sephiroth and Pandora set the bird up and she teaches him how to safely mount and sit on the bird that’s named Gon. Deciding to join him in warming yup, Angeal and Genesis choose their birds and get sorted. Amarisa picks a green one that’s an older sibling to her brothers’ chick. Blaise as their ref.

Once sure he has a decent handle on riding his Chocobo (once he stopped trying to jump off every time the bird made a strange sound or flapped its wings excitedly), Sephiroth managed to wrangle Gon to the race track.

“Y’all ready?” Grinning in excitement, Velveteen shifting anxiously, wanting to run already as he knows this track is for racing; Pandora makes sure that they are all present. Reno has joined them at the starting line, though not racing with a green tiny chick in his arms.

“Ready…Set….Go!!” Blaise shouts from his chair that Pandora had brought out for him, the Chocobo’s off sprinting down the track.

Urging his bird as fast as possible, Sephiroth quickly gains second place, the only one faster than him is Pandora and her Chocobo; Velveteen.

Looking over her shoulder at him with a smirk, Pandora gives him a cheeky wave.

“Hope you like cleaning poop!”

“I don’t give up that easily…” Grumbling to himself, Sephiroth moves as inside as possible, trying to gain any advantages as he can to get first place. “Come on Gon, lets beat her. I’ll buy you the best feed out there”

Behind, Sephiroth can hear the other three perhaps playing a little dirty to gain the upper hand, but he ignores them as he draws closer to Pandora. Surprising her when she looks over her shoulder to see him right on her tail.

Grinning in delight at actually having a challenge somewhat, Pandora clicks her tongue urging Velveteen on more and much to Sephiroth’s dismay, putting further distance between them. The finish line quickly approaching and Pandora flies over it, a clear winner despite the other’s efforts.

Turning Velveteen around, Pandora pets Velveteen gently as she gives them a look that’s very similar to that of a cat getting the cream.

“Let me show you all where the cleaning equipment is?”

[imagine-that-one-thing]

That’s the point.

Smut Warning.

The one where Shawn is watching a Hockey Game but his S.O has other ideas in mind.  Master List.

Your heels sound against the wooden floorboards of the hallway while your eyes scan over the mail. “Shawn?” You summon, unsure of whether he has gone for his evening run already or if he’s still around the house doing only god knows what.

“In here,” he calls back and you can only assume he’s in the living room with his eyes glued to the television.

You wander into the living and discover Shawn on the couch, he has one arm slumped over the arm of the couch, the other holding a beer while his feet, cosy in white socks, are propped up on the glass coffee table.

You assume has been in the same position on the couch for a while, for the lack of texts you received at work– you’re convinced he has been perched on the couch since at least six when the first hockey game began on television.

“Shawn,” your voice radiates at a moderate tone through the living room and he doesn’t bother to take his coffee coloured eyes from the television mantled on the wall, instead, he hums a response and urges a beer to his lips. “Have you eaten?” You question in a loving tone, a bit concerned that he has neglected to eat dinner in a frenzied attempt to soak in the high of the playoffs beginning.

Shawn hums again, resting his beer on his thigh, “is that a yes or no? Are you listening?” You snicker, advancing towards the couch and coming into view from the corner of his eye.

He grins and cocks his head to the side, “always listening, hun. Just kinda occupied,” he gestures to the screen, “watcha need? If my sister is blowing your phone up too, tell her I’m busy.”

You roll your eyes, “busy doing nothing,” you chuckle, “did you eat? I hope you’re not drinking on an empty stomach.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it. Yeah, I had pizza, there’s still some in the oven keeping warm.”

“Just making sure, here’s your mail,” you place his mail on the table, “feet, Mendes.” You tap his legs, he sighs but doesn’t draw them off the table to let you pass.

You glance over at him and raise a brow, “just because I’m watching hockey, doesn’t mean I don’t get my kiss,” he informs you.

“That’s debatable,” you shrug before giving in and leaning down to kiss him lightly.

“Thank you,” he grins before his attention goes back to the hockey game. You’re not really surprised by his lack of want to talk, he doesn’t get to sit down and watch hockey often, so when he gets a chance that’s all that runs through his mind, well, that and a few beers.

After pondering around the house aimlessly and keeping yourself occupied with the few household chores that needed tending, you fall to the couch with a huff. Shawn’s arm drapes around you loosely as he mutters something under his breath referring to the game.

You rest your head on him and his arm falls over your body, encompassing you with a bit more warmth than you had anticipated.

You can’t help but grin as you notice how he’s gradually beginning to rile himself up as the game continues. Him staring intently at the screen and groaning when things don’t favour the maple leafs is quite the turn on for you.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” He spits towards the television, “Are these refs blind?! that's not tripping! fucking bullshit call!” He roars towards the TV, forgetting that the refs can’t actually hear him. He senses you jolt beneath his touch and he promptly takes a breath, “sorry, didn’t mean to wake you.”

“You’re fine, just wasn’t expecting you to be so loud,” you giggle, assuring him that his passion for the game is of no worry to you.

You couldn’t really care less about him barking at the game, it’s more entertaining for you to watch him than it is to watch the game itself. “Where’s the interference call for that, you moron? How the fuck did he miss that call? he was standing right there!" .... “any closer and he’d been hit with the damn thing.” Shawn shakes his head, baffled with what he is witnessing on the screen, “why don’t they just play the damn game for ‘em? Fuck.”

“Maybe you should go and play for them,” you joke, repositioning yourself and placing your hand on his thigh.

“Humph, maybe I should. Maybe we’d actually fucking score,” he grumbles, shaking his head once more.

You take the chance to glide your hand further up his thigh before you settle your fingers to curve perfectly on his inner thigh and rest there. You notice his entrancing, molten-brown eyes flick from the game to your hand but he is prompt to go back to the game.

You bite your lip, somewhat frustrated he hasn’t taken the hint, usually the moment your hand is on his thigh, he knows.

“Shawn,” you draw his name out as it falls from your lips.

“Fuck, open your fucking eyes,” he mutters, his voice not so loud this time as he huffs and settles further into the couch.

“Shawn... I’m bored.”

“Watch the game,” he gestures towards the screen, not seeming to be too aware of the fact you have enraged demands that require his attention.

You sigh and roll your eyes before moving from your position on the couch and straddling him.

His brazen hands caress to your hips as he gazes at you, “I’m bored,” you whisper, leaning down and kissing the exposed skin of his neck that his light pink hoodie is failing to cover.

“But... the game,” he trails off, his breath quickening as you bite down carelessly and feel his fevered skin between your lips.

You suck lightly on his flawless skin before tearing away, “They’re going to lose anyway,” you whisper, your breath jostling his skin as his hand's progress to the hem of your sweater. “I need you,” you murmur, drawing away wholly to glance at him.

He has a grin painted on his lips, “yeh need me, hmm?”

You bite your lip and nod, "unless you would rather watch a losing team?" you cock your head to the side just enough to expose the skin of your neck that catches his eyes.

He swallows hard, "never," he murmurs, his hands cupping your ass and pulling you closer to him before his soft lips press to the slender column of your neck. "Much- prefer- this," Shawn's breath bounces off your skin and sends your body into an overdrive of emotions.

He leaves a trail of gentle, persuasive kisses up and down your exposed neck, including devising rained kisses on your silky shoulder before he travels to your mouth. His tongue skims to your trembling lips, parting them nonchalantly before taking bold control of your mouth. You’re startled by his intimate kiss but you welcome him with an open mouth. His tongue embraces the walls' of your mouth and you can't help but groan into the kiss with his fingers playing with the hem of your sweater.

While fascinated by your kiss, the tips of his fingers brush under your sweater and manoeuvre their way to your front. The supple touch of his fingers gracing your warm skin bewitches you as he takes a moment to cup hands over your bra, offering a light squeeze that sends sweet shivers down your spine. Enchanting you with his touch, he breaks the kiss long enough to draw your sweater off, launching it to fall somewhere in the living room.

Your eyes gleam into his enthralling, champagne-brown eyes and he awards you a roguish smile.

Damn, that grin.

You waste no time with driving your hands to the base of his sweater before you pry it off of his body and throw the hoodie to the floor. You map his body with your eyes, your mouth gaping slightly as you take in his beautiful landscape of plains, tight abs that only cause you to want him more. Your brazen hands bound up the warmth of his body where they travel over the dips and curves of each muscle and ridge his body grants. Your eyes lower to his sweatpants that distinctly manifest his growing arousal.

Your hands sweep to the waistband of his sweatpants and his breath gets heavier. Shawn lets out a groan, a groan that is like music to your ears as your fingers connect with his skin.

You glide your clever hands into his sweats and welcome the warmth radiating from him. You cup him in your hands and snicker at his goosebumps while you encompass your hand down his shaft and course your thumb over his tip of nerves that causes him to tilt his head back

“Christ, y/n,” he moans softly, his hands dropping to push his sweatpants down his legs.

You seduce him with your audacious hand while he crashes his lips against your own, welcoming you with a long, liquid kiss that rushes lust through you. You work your hand up and down his shaft, in a moderate motion, twisting slightly and ever so often grazing your thumb over his tip to tempt him further. "Oh, Christ," he breathes out in a beguiling nature, the narcotic power of his voice and eyes empowering you to keep going with your presumptuous abilities.

You grant him a naughty smile that has him imagining through his eyes that are a-twinkle with the ‘joie de vivre’ as he graces you with a jaunty smile. "You're slowing down, yeh tampering with my sanity," Shawn mumbles as your hand slowly matches the rhythm that he is wanting and needing.

Your thumb brushes his tip once more before his hands squeeze your hips delicately, "making me go mad."

"That's the point," you respond, tampering with his sanity and leaving him hanging as you take your hands away from his swollen erection.

"That how you wanna play?" he challenges, dipping his cold hands into your pants, grazing his fingers over the lace of your underwear. "You're dripping," he grins cockily, feeling your eagerness as he glides his finger over you, dampening your lace.

You moan quietly, twitching slightly as he strokes you again, "Please," you whimper, struggling to keep your voice steady.

"What's that?"

"Shawn," you draw out his name, suddenly feeling him pulling your pants and managing to haul them off before he is at the lace, tampering with you again before allowing them to glide down your thighs.

Shawn shifts his finger inside you, circling inside you at ease. His fingers slide upwards, relentlessly moving, dipping, swirling and circling around, adding pressure and attempting to obtain the one spot. The spot he has come to find so many times before.

You moan while his fingers coax you in every way imaginable. He's teasing you, to say the least.

He slides in another finger and your toes curl and another groan escapes from you as you concede your hand to squeeze his shoulder lightly as you begin to roll your hips, his thumb rubbing the bundle of nerves in the right way.

He is beginning to take your breath away.

You tilt your head back, your mouth allowing a small groan to escape as you’re enthralled with the circular touch and rhythm he’s presenting you with. “Fuck,” you huff, “Keep going,” you instruct, feeling the aching desire through your body, the sensations radiating through every nerve possible.

His fingers twist in a circular motion and flick lightly, his thumb brushing against your nub, another groan falling from your lips. Your legs begin to quiver as you hold onto his shoulders with more of a grip.

You feel the pressure thrusting inside you with every long and slow motion that closes you tighter around him. “Shawn,” the sound of you calling his name causes him to grin widely. He knows what he is doing to you, he knows you’re crumbling in every way possible. "Holy, fuck, please..." ... "Shawn," you breathe out, struggling to hold the desiring tide that is wanting to take over. He draws his fingers out and you stare at him with a gaped stare, "I was so close,"

"I know," he grins, "that was the point."

"Oh, fuck," you huff, taking a breath, "I need more," you whisper.

He grins again, cockily as he bites his lip before breaking eye contact with you. He carefully presses his hands to your back and slides you further up his thigh, "go," he instructs, as you lift up on your thighs slightly and line up with him. You feel him bump at your entrance before you lower down on him, tilting your pelvis to his comfort.

You go at your own pace and he keeps you steady on him, making sure to guide you through the moves you make. You grind against him, brushing your clit against him with your motions, enticing the both of you. You both work together, hips circling and thrusting. He circles his hard length inside you, probing in a slow repetitive rhythm as your body tightens around him as he thrusts and you raise your body to press into his.

"Deeper," you instruct, allowing him to add to the control he has given you.

A tangy taste and male scent evolve while you roll your hips and move your body with his like an all-over kiss of two bodies.

Your fingers get lost in the softness of his hair and your breathing quickens with the pace. He groans as your hips work together in a perfect motion and you hold back your own vocal groans as a passionate tide overtakes the onslaught of raw physical desire. You know he's close by the way his hand is shaking and the way he's beginning to cock his head back to rest on the couch.

A keening sound echoes as he thrusts once more before you take his fill and lean into him, your head resting against his shoulder. "Christ," he murmurs, his fingers running through your hair as you both catch your breath and reposition yourselves.

"Quite a win, ey?" you question cockily.

"Think so," Shawn nods as you glance up at him, admiring his cocky grin.