#i mean HOW do you make it so colorful without it being blinding

[paroroland]

alright since you said so🫡

All of the art reqs I have done so far...! Please reblog...

[heechwe]

not a bad thing | 𝖍𝖛𝖈

୨୧ pairing: hansol (vernon) chwe x fem!reader ୨୧ word count: 6.6k ୨୧ genre: fluff, smut ୨୧ tags: friends to lovers, light drug use, fingering, oral (f receiving), mutual masturbation, penetration, cockwarming. ୨୧ synopsis: Just because you've been friends for so long doesn't mean Vernon isn't keeping some secrets from you, and you're determined to confront him about it.

“Simple but still cute, or spontaneous and fun?” 

Vernon, sprawled out on his back on your bed, looks up from his phone screen in absolute confusion. He’s wearing a rainbow beanie with his plaid button-up and denim jeans, contrasting your leggings and baggy t-shirt. He always acts unaffected by how good he cleans up when he wants to, but you shake the thought out of your head and wait for his answer. “Come again?” he asks.

You’ve been holding out the red and black cropped, long-sleeve shirts for two minutes for your best friend to see. Maybe he would immediately pick one or take his time deliberating, especially with the cutout in the shirts’ centers meant to reveal hints of cleavage. However, the realization that his attention was stolen long ago by some meme in your friend group’s group chat has you huffing and flinging the shirts at the edge of your bed. 

It isn't the first time you've gotten nervous before a date, and it definitely isn't your first runaround with Vernon being out of touch with both his current and past conversations. Still, you value his advice more than anyone’s. Only you need it in an hour before your date arrives, and he’s being less than helpful. “Pick which one you like, idiot,” you whine.

“They’re literally the same shirt. The only difference is the color,” Vernon retorts. He rolls his eyes and resumes his endless scrolling.

“Exactly! I need to know which color you think I should wear. That way I give off the right impression.”

“And what impression exactly are you trying to give?”

“I don't know! Ready to have a good time but not looking to go too fast. Fuck, if only they had a shirt for that.” You rub your temple, contemplating if going on this date was the right decision.

The day Mingyu offered to set you up with his friend, you had half a mind to shut him down. His insistence on this blind date was too much to say no to, though, and going without any romantic or sexual interests for months seemed to take its toll on your resistance. While Vernon wasn't outwardly against the idea, he decidedly brushed it off with a disinterested hum and didn't mention it once until today.

Once he sees the defeat on your face, he caves, leaving his resting spot to grab you by the shoulders. It’s unsaid, but he practically asks outwardly for you to look him in the eye, so you do. “Listen. This guy is gonna like you no matter what color your shirt is. And you wanna know why?” You shrug, deflated. “Because anyone who can't see how hilarious and gorgeous you are is blind, and we don't hang out with blind people.” Vernon crinkles his eyebrows together and sighs. “You know what I mean. Like, metaphorically blind and shit.” 

You laugh. “Thanks, Han.”

You turn away from him to stare at the two shirts still spread out on the bed. “But back to this. Which color do you like more?”

After waiting a few seconds for his answer, you look over your shoulder. He’s miles away, lost in his thoughts again. The look in his eyes and etches of his face are traced with puzzlement, and when you call his name to get his attention and snap him out of it, it’s still there. No matter how hard he tries to hide it with a tight-lipped smile. “Black. Simple but still cute,” he says, his voice soft as he uses your words from earlier, proving he was still listening. 

Satisfied, you grab the top and turn, ready to make a beeline for the bathroom to get dressed. You stop short when you almost bump into Vernon on your way. It's only then you realize how close the two of you are. Less than a foot apart, to be exact. “I gotta get dressed, weirdo.” You try to sound humorous, but the breath accompanying your words sounds bated and unexpectedly airy.

In that second, all while you trace the outline of Vernon’s lips with your eyes, you wonder if maybe it would be so bad to skip the date altogether and do something else. Anything else. As long as you didn’t have to leave the house or Vernon.

“Right,” he whispers, but has no intention to walk closer to the bedroom door. Slowly, his eyes go a fraction wider than they normally do.

Like a silent cue, he steps away and fumbles over his words. “Okay well, good luck and—Sorry, I just—I’ll see you at Seuncheol’s after. You can tell us how it went. That is if you want to!” He stutters, right as he hits the back of his head against the door.

“Hansol! Are you okay—“

“Yeah! I’m fine!” He takes his beanie off to rub the sore spot. “Don’t worry about me. You don’t wanna be late. I’ll see you later!” He races out of the apartment, mumbling and clutching his head. 

While you curl your hair and put on your favorite pair of jeans for your date, your mind goes back to the look in Vernon’s eyes and the thoughts that raced in your head before he took off. And you speculate about what those two things mean, and if they mean anything at all.

“He didn’t even kiss you? What a dumbass.” Vernon mumbles, grabbing his mocha latte. He takes a vigorous sip, humming at the warmth it brings.

“I know. Now pass me a Splenda packet, please?” You pout. Well-adjusted adults would normally be at home and in bed at ten in the evening. But for you and Vernon, you decide on hanging out in your favorite late-night coffee shop for pastries and cold brew. It was better than sitting around at Seungcheol’s, the usual festivities of weed and alcohol not hitting the same way. You both settled on an alternative to fill your time instead.

“How did it go exactly,” Vernon asks, his voice garbled from the cheese danish he stuffed into his mouth.

“Well, I made it to the restaurant and he was there already, which was nice. But as soon as we started talking about ourselves, he was so flat.”

“What do you mean?” His eyebrow furrow, clearly confused.

“He was just very one-dimensional.”

“How so?”

“I mean, he was either talking about accounting, his accountant friends, or his work projects. Maybe it was better that he didn't kiss me. It might have been as boring as his capacity for communication.” You both share a laugh.

“So, I guess this means you don’t want a boring guy who presses his suits and plays golf on the weekends,” Vernon teases with a grin. You shove him playfully in the arm.

“That’s not the point! I mean, yeah, I don’t mind if a guy is serious, but I want someone who makes me laugh too. Who I don’t have to worry about liking my jokes but also sets a table or buys me flowers once and awhile.” You sigh.

While on your diatribe, Vernon grabbed your vanilla bean frappuccino. In a second, he has your straw in his mouth for a long sip. He smiles when he passes your drink back to you, unapologetic. “Someone who steals your drink for himself?”

You throw a napkin at him in retaliation. “I hate you!”

“Everything okay here, miss?” The barista asks, his name-tag shining against the dim lamps surrounding the cafe.

“We’re all good—Joshua—thank you.” You give him your best smile, to which he flashes his own at you. His teeth sparkle as much as his name-tag does, you think to yourself.

“Just Josh, please. The only one who uses my full name is my mother.”

You two exchange a chuckle, and you notice Vernon is not laughing or smiling at all. His eyes are mere slits, you can barely see the brown in his irises. His mouth follows in the same fashion, but downturned at the corners if anyone was paying close attention.

Joshua hands you a packet of chocolate-covered almonds, and he blushes. “They go really great with the frappes.”

“Oh thank you, but I didn’t—”

“It’s on the house. As long as you keep coming back.” Joshua turns to walk back to the coffee bar, suddenly tense as he leaves you and Vernon at your table.

Looking back to your best friend, you can see why. The original expression on his face has changed to pure anger. Vernon looks like he wants to blip the poor barista out of existence, and his long, hard stare in the guy’s direction might just make his wish come true.

“What’s wrong with you dude?” you ask Vernon directly.

When he turns to look at you, the stone in his expression softens a touch. “That guy seems like a creep.”

“He was just being nice!”

“He gave you a pack of nuts. Who does that?” He scoffs outwardly, and you can’t help but laugh. “What? You know I’m right.”

“Next time a cute guy gives me a snack, I’ll make sure you vet him first.” You wink at Vernon, but he remains hard-pressed. “Come on, don’t be jealous!”

“Of coffee boy? Please.” Vernon shrugs off your comment and crosses his arms. Something unreadable passes over his face for a brief moment. You would ask him about it, but you know the man is anything but overly emotional or easily vulnerable.

You try anyway. “Han, what’s wrong?”

He shakes his head and gets up to throw away his coffee, half unfinished. “Nothing, I’m fine,” he lies, looking away from you with a cold lilt to his tone. “Let’s get out of here.”

The sound of Vernon’s voicemail causes you to grunt in frustration, the beginning of the message you practically know by heart now. After the stint in the coffee-shop, Vernon walked you home without a word and hasn’t interacted with you since then. After being left on read for the past three days, you are all kinds of antsy. Normally, he would text or call instantly with a reason, but it’s been nothing but silence on his end. Your black phone screen makes you rub your temples. What did you do wrong?

“At this point we should send a carrier pigeon,” Lisa says with a shake of her head. 

“She’s got it bad, babe,” Hoshi comments with a wink in your direction. He kisses Lisa on the cheek on his way to their kitchen. 

When things went wrong, it was second nature to confide in Lisa and Hoshi. Two childhood friends turned dance prodigies and then inseparable lovers? They sounded like the plot of a bestselling romance novel. And admittedly, you wish you could find what they had. Why did you have to encounter so many red flags and road blocks?

“I mean, we all know you’ve been down for him for…three years now?”

“Shut up, Soon!” You exclaim, blushing. “I just don’t know why he’s gone AWOL on me.”

“Maybe he’s in a mood. You know him,” Lisa responds.

“Not like this. This is the longest we’ve ever gone without even sending an emoji to each other,” you say with a frown. You scroll through your conversation, the endless blue bubbles making your stomach sink further.

“He’s gonna be at Wooz’s tomorrow night for that party,” Hoshi says with the slam of the fridge door. You nod your head, already aware. Hoshi smirks. “Corner him there.”

Vernon was closer friends than you were with Woozi, someone you knew in passing because of his relationship with your best friend. But you had been to the guy’s apartment many times before. It wouldn’t be weird to attend, sans Vernon. Right?

“Fuck it,” you think out loud. “Lisa, can I borrow an outfit?”

The party is in full swing by the time you arrive. Chan answers the door with a grin, patting you on the shoulder when you step through the threshold. Woozi and Seungcheol are karaoke battling in Woozi’s living room while the rest of the partygoers are either drinking beer or in circles puffing and passing.

You decline when Minghao tries to hand you his half of a joint, a dopey grin plastered on his face. You want to be sober when you confront your best friend for leaving you in the dark for half of the week, even if you know it’ll take the edge off of your nerves.

When you find Vernon, he’s grabbing a hard lemonade from the spare cooler on top of Woozi’s counter. His eyes, the usual white around his irises pink from the party favors, go wide when he sees you. “Fuck me,” he says out loud.

“Yeah, fuck you is right,” you bite back. “Why haven’t you been answering your phone?”

His mouth is agape, giving no attempt to provide an answer. no answer. You get angrier the longer the seconds go by without one.

“Okay, how about an easier question: Why couldn’t you respond with a thumbs up or something when I asked if you were still alive?”

He runs a hand through his hair in frustration, another curse leaving his lips.

“Fine. Keep being weird about whatever the fuck is wrong. I wanted to try and make sure my best friend was okay, but he can’t even give me a solid explanation as to why he’s being a dickhead.”

Vernon takes your hand and walks quickly with you in tow. The people you pass move out of his way before they get body-slammed, some of them confused while others are too drunk or high to care. 

When you make it to a bathroom off of the hallway, Vernon closes the door behind you and locks it. He takes a second before turning to you with a solemn expression. 

“We can’t be friends anymore.” The words that leave his mouth break your heart to pieces and steal any semblance of air from your lungs. You didn’t expect to come into tonight and lose a friend, especially when you were unsure of what you did to cause Vernon to feel that way.

Your eyes begin to water with tears, but you don’t let them run over. “What the fuck do you mean?”

“I’m saying I can’t keep doing this.”

“Doing what?” Your voice grows thin. You’re confused how every word from his mouth sounds more sure than the one before while you’re falling apart.

But, even though he keeps up a composed posture, you can tell something inside of him is cracking. His bottom lip is caught in his teeth and his hands are fidgeting, two signs something is bugging him beyond his will.

“Please just tell me what I did wrong and I can fix it. I can’t help make this better if you don’t tell me what—”

In a second, Vernon has your back pinned against the bathroom counter. His lips capture yours in a bruising kiss, giving your quick gasp no time to leave your mouth. He swipes his teeth over your bottom lip while his hands roam from your waist to the expanse of your hips. Soon enough, his tongue is inside of your mouth. He holds your neck with one hand while the other sits on the back of your thigh, hitching it up to press your leg against his side. 

He feels the warm skin of your thigh in his palm and the center of your legs against him, making him groan. His touches and the sounds leaving him make you moan in kind into his mouth, and he swallows it blissfully.

When you separate for breath, you look deep into his eyes. Vernon’s expression brims with naked emotions, ones undecorated and unprepared, ones he cannot hide anymore. “If that’s the only time I got to do that when I’ve wanted to for so long, I had to make it count.” His confession should feel like a shock, something you were not ready for and quick to play off as an after effect of the joints he’s been smoking for the past couple hours, but it doesn't.

Instead, you accept it, with open arms and without a first or second thought to the contrary.

You soak in his words willingly, knowing for certain your heart wasn’t just wishing for someone. It was always wishing, comparing, waiting…for him. And now you have him, in this bathroom, terrified you feel anything less than what he feels for you.

Before he can step back, you take his hands in yours to prevent him from taking them off of your body. How could he think you could stop now? “Han, I need you to touch me more,” you whisper.

Vernon drops to his knees and rubs his hands up and down your thighs, his eyes requesting permission to hike up your skirt. Instantly, you nod.

He raises the denim up over your hips, meeting the cotton of your underwear with his mouth. As soon as his lips are on you, the cloth barely separating him from your clit, most of your coherent thoughts become lost to the wind.

Once he takes his fingers and moves your underwear to the side, you know you’re about to lose the breath in your lungs as well. His tongue licks a long stripe up your pussy, taking in the length of you with ease to maximize your pleasure. Your body quakes from how good he is at running his lips and mouth across you. You take in heavy breaths to try and steady yourself, but it’s no use.

Your best friend is eating you out too well and you have no idea how to function properly. You clutch his head with your hand and move your hips in time with the patterns of his mouth. The throes of your orgasm are so close, and it may just break you.

Vernon prods a finger at your walls, and you feel your body shake harder. “Han, I’m gonna come. Please don’t stop.” He hums against you and takes that as the green light to insert the digit completely.

A couple of strokes to the inside of your gummy walls and his tongue lapping at your clit makes you fall apart, whimpering quietly as to not have the people right outside the door hearing you climax.

Coming down, you sigh in pleasure. The sound morphs into breathless laughter. “I love you,” you finally say with a frail tone, but those three words have never been more true than right now.

The smile on Vernon’s lips revealing his gums and teeth is almost too radiant to stare at. It reminds you of butterflies, especially the ones that still flutter in the small spaces of your chest when he looks at you so reverently. Gently, he takes your cheek in his hand and says, “I love you too, pretty girl.”

You don’t leave the bathroom for another five minutes, spending that time in awe of what’s transpired and soaking in the feelings and love you’ve expressed to each other, all while you feel the bass of a Childish Gambino song beat against the bathroom walls.

The shuffle into your apartment is so quick you don’t hear Vernon close the door and lock it behind you. Even though you spent enough time pressed against each other in Woozi’s bathroom, the sticky and sweet feelings coming back to you in flashes, Vernon did not let go of your hand the entire walk home from the party. “It was so cold outside, I’m sure my nose is red.” Looking in the hallway mirror, you frown. “Yeah. I look like a reindeer.” You pout, falling into a fit of laughter. 

Vernon chuckles, releasing his hand from yours to place on your cheek, his fingers oddly warm. He kisses the tip of your nose lovingly. “You’re a cute reindeer, if that helps,” He says. Stepping away from you, he takes off his jacket and places it on the coat-rack. “A few minutes with the heater on and it’ll feel like summer in here.”

“Don’t make me sweat, weirdo.”

“I kind of already did, but noted.” Vernon smirks, and right after the next giggle leaves your mouth, you stop to watch him.

Despite knowing how he tasted and how the timbre of his laughter felt against your neck, you knew those things didn’t compare to the candid moments that made you love him. He didn’t take notice of the squinted shape of his eyes reading his phone screen, or even the press of his hand against your back to make you feel safe. But you did, every instance more clear than they’ve ever been before. They were so minuscule on their own, but when they were all stacked together in every year and tear and smile, it was a wonder how you didn’t know you fell in love with him so long ago. 

You don’t have to tell him you feel that way, though. He can see it in the stillness of your eyes, in the small and tender smile painting your mouth, in the red tint of your cheeks. He has felt the same too many times to count. You claimed his heart for all the reasons he claimed yours. Of course, it took you both almost half a decade to realize it.

He steps closer, a breath separating your bodies. Taking your hand in his, he kisses each finger before pressing his lips to the knuckles. You grin wider and rest your head on his chest. It’s a tiny marvel to feel the steady thrum of his heart against your ear, all the times being strictly platonic. Its tempo is a soft rhythm that has sent you to sleep on multiple occasions during sleepovers and movie marathons. Now, it’s as if the rhythm sounds different, beating with an entirely different meaning. You suddenly feel shy with him this close, the silent actions speaking for themselves.

“Are you tired,” he asks, lips brushing the curve of your scalp.

You shake your head. “No. I’ve never felt more awake.” You look up at him, a realization at the forefront of your mind. While you may have been together all night, and your mutual confession in Woozi’s bathroom was barely two hours ago, it feels like a world away since you last touched him. Intent, charged with what needs to be spoken and doesn’t, too vivid to go unnoticed.

Like the blunt release of a bowstring, it’s a sudden rush of lips gravitating to each other. The sensation is a mix of headiness and affection. In you, it’s the pull of your hands on the brown waves of Vernon’s hair and smiles slipping in between his kisses. For him, it’s the swipe of his tongue against your bottom lip to let him in, let him guide, and the reverence of kisses across your throat saying the words he knows are on your mind because they’re on his too. I love you and I want you and I need you and I don’t know how I’ll ever stop.

You make contact with the heat of Vernon’s skin when his sweater rides up, revealing the dips of his hip bones above the waistline of his pants. You spread your hands up and underneath the material to feel more of him, the warmth you desire, and the home that resides there. In his own desperate fingers, you realize he’s also exploring the places in you where he finds comfort and love.

The two of you stumble into the bedroom, caring almost as little as you did entering the apartment. You’re both so focused on each other the rest of your surroundings seem to be background noise, but Vernon does nod when you mention birth control. The back of your legs knock into the mattress, but you don’t mind with his lips at your neck, kissing and occasionally biting. He detaches his lips from your skin to tug abruptly on the hem of your skirt, wanting it gone. He rests his hands there, the request for permission clear. Once he takes it off, you raise your arms to let him remove your top as well. Once you’re clad in your undergarments, you help him with taking off his sweater in a haste, reaching for him again when the fabric finally falls to the floor. The renewed closeness seems to snap you both from your trance.

Your gaze reaches up to his eyes, and his are filled with patience and adoration. “We don’t have to rush, you know,” Vernon murmurs. He could easily let the time speed past him like he did earlier, certain there will be more moments like this to cherish at a slower pace. However, he can't deny he wants you as close as possible, determined to not let his words or actions go unsaid anymore.

You nod, running one hand against his chest while the other curls around the back of his neck. You place featherlight kisses to the column of his jaw as he unclips your bra. Each clip feels tentatively released, as though he’s slowing the two of you down like he wants to remember every moment. Maybe he feels this will only last until the morning, but little does he know that there's no way anyone or anything could be worth giving him up, not as a friend and definitely not as a lover.

He finally unbuckles his belt with determination and lets the metal clank on the wood floor. The only clothing left between you is your underwear, still damp from your previous activities, and his boxers. Immediately, you wrap your arms around each other when the busy work is finished, a clash of teeth and tongue following. A muddled moan escapes your mouth and reverberates against his throat when his groin brushes yours and his hands find your breasts. He rolls one nipple between his index and thumb while he squeezes your other breast with his opposite hand, teasing your skin with the pads of his fingers. The skin puckers and swells at his ministrations, the sensitivity between your legs growing again, wetness pooling there and leaving you aching.

The mattress dips underneath your weight when you fall onto it. You grip Vernon by the waist, but he only takes your hands away from his body and intertwines his fingers with yours. He’s all gravity, his seriousness palpable. The faintness of a smirk sits on his lips, but he shows no intentions of smiling. His boxers seem to grow tighter against him, but you don’t look away from his eyes. “Come here, Han. Please,” you whisper, spreading your legs wider, in hopes he can see how deep the ache he’s placed in every part of you goes. Vernon kisses each one of your palms before releasing them.

“Show me first. Show me how much you want me.” You bite your lip and use your hands to lower the cotton fabric of your underwear until it comes off. Your right hand trails up your body and lands on one of your breasts, squeezing and testing. No matter how you touch yourself, it doesn’t make up for the feeling of Vernon’s hands on your chest. His breath hitches when you press your opposite hand to your clit, a garbled moan unraveling on your tongue.

You tease yourself in small circles, enjoying the expanse of wetness you feel, and press your thumb to your clit again to make your hips roll. It feels like it should, a nice reprieve from the short time you’ve spent without any physical contact. But the lust-blown color in Vernon’s eyes, turning the brown irises that you love almost black, is what makes raspy sounds of pleasure leave your mouth. You want his hands instead of yours, as well as his mouth and his body on you, but his stare is enough to keep you going for him.

To amplify your torture even more, Vernon tugs at the waistband of his boxers until they fall at his feet, his cock fully erect. With the bottom of your lip stuck between your teeth, you run a finger up and down your slit at the thought of him on top of you, underneath you, and more. You release a whimper when he runs a hand up and down his cock, the tip swollen and leaking pre-cum already. You remain there together, sharing heady gazes and touching yourselves with slow and painfully gratifying motions, suspending all of the tension of the night into the air until one of you drops it. A loud, broken groan escapes him in response to the contact of his hand against himself and your body begging to be touched. If only he would let go and touch me, you think to yourself as you feel a satisfying clench in your belly.

“God, I can’t wait to be inside of you,” he says, the last words catching in his throat.

You stop to sit up and grasp the head of his cock, running your hand up and down the girth to replace his. It causes Vernon’s body to shiver exquisitely, and you revel in the way your touch affects him almost half as much as his affects you. You whisper, “You don’t have to wait.”

Those words prompt him into action, pressing his free hand to your cheek and diving for your lips. The two of you fall flat onto the bed, and when his tongue enters your mouth once again, you can’t hold back. You grind your body against his, feeling the press of his erection at your center. “Please, I want you to fuck me so bad.” In the midst of your arduous haze, Vernon’s mouth turns into a wide smile, one you forgot you could miss so much.

You laugh at the beautiful twinkle in his eyes, lust laced into the sound. “What?”

“Aside from you telling me you love me, you have no idea how long I’ve wanted to hear those words”—he brushes an index finger along your lips—“come out of your pretty mouth.” You bite on the tip of his finger, and he pulls it away with a smirk. He replaces it with his lips, using his hand to align and direct the head of his cock to your entrance.

He has no desire to rush, though, a slow, languorous push of his hips to press his cock inside of you following a soft kiss to your temple. But with a sudden jolt of his next thrust that makes you yelp in pleasure, you can tell that desire is starting to wane. “Sorry,” he says, “fuck, you just feel—“

“I know,” you agree. He’s so patient and loving, but the way he fills you and drives in and out, you want nothing more than for him to grips your hips and make a mess of you. After trailing a string of kisses from his cheek to his neck as he continues trying to restrain himself with drawn-out thrusts, you say, “I don’t want you to go slow. We have time for that later.”

“I just—Are you sure?” His eyes reveal all of the yearning he has felt and the doubts that still linger in his mind, the exposure of his feelings almost too much for you to bear. You kiss his lips once again, hoping all of your reciprocated emotions pour out of you and into his reservations to drown them out.

“After tonight, I’ve never been more sure of anything.” Vernon nods and places his hands on your hips, the pressure exemplary. You wrap yours around the nape of his neck.

With a sharp and hard thrust, you moan into his mouth, loving how he pushes himself into you to the hilt. He continues his pace without slowing, loving the smack of his and your hips against each others’ and the way his body connects to yours.

“Fuck,” you whisper in unison, dragging your nails up his biceps and shoulders as he grips your hips harder. You may find bruised skin tomorrow morning, but at the moment, you love how tight his hold is on you. You wrap your legs around his lower back so he can angle his thrusts, and it feels like drowning and burning in the same breath.

From the chest to the hips, there’s an array of points where your bodies meet. With an overwhelming feeling of fullness pervading your body, you’re certain now there was never a time for anyone else to claim your heart when he had claimed it for his own long ago. You close your eyes to enjoy the thoughts bursting at the forefront of your brain alongside the build of your release, but the press of Vernon’s hand against your chin makes you snap your eyes open.

He pushes in deep, filling you to the brim once again, hitting the sweetest spot within you that has you digging the heels of your feet into his skin. You keep your eyes locked with his, but the way he presses down against your body and the new feeling of his hand against your neck makes it difficult to keep your focus on anything besides the profusion of sensations he’s giving you. You pull him in for a deep kiss, all while you push your hips back against his. This time, you capture a groan from his mouth with your lips. The hand against your neck shakes as his hips stutter, the established pace falling off.

In the midst of his lips being attached to yours, You notice the tinge of a whine accompanying his groans and how labored his breathing becomes. You press your fingers to your clit, rubbing circles into your flesh to follow him to his release with your own.

At this point, you cannot tell which sensation feels the best: Vernon’s tongue flicking against the roof of your mouth, his cock sinking into you, his hand pressing lightly against your windpipe, or the drum of your fingers along your center. Regardless, you love the filth and sweetness of each one, and how you’re sharing the same sensations with the man you love. It’s all you could ask for. You cry out when you finally orgasm. Clenching around him, you hold on to every second of the white hot bliss that coats every space of your skin.

Vernon lets out a long string of moans when he releases, filling you up and spilling inside of you. His thrusts come to a halt, pushing his hips one last time to milk what's left of his climax. Breathing fast, you press your forehead to his. Your heartbeats are drums, beating hard and clashing against each others’ tempos. With time pressed against each other, your bodies sticky and his cock still inside of you, they slowly find their way to a soft beat that compliment each other. Vernon huffs out a breath into the space of your neck, and you kiss his temple before he can raise his head and look into your eyes.

“I love you,” he says, panting, his face lit up in the dark. It’s as though he’s found rapture in the solace of your bed and in your arms, and you would not fight him on the sentiment because your smile mimics it tenfold.

“I love you, too.” You kiss him long and sweet, the damn taste of his mouth a new and unending craving.

He pulls out of you to grab some tissues from the bathroom, but not leaving without pecking your nose, which makes you giggle more than it should. He comes back to bed and wraps himself around you, and you breathe in his scent as he rubs soothing circles into your back. Despite that, you still yearn for more of his body against yours, too touch-starved to go back. “Han?”

“Hmm?” He asks, raising his head from the crook of your neck to look into your eyes.

“Could you…I don’t know,” you fumble, unsure of how to get your point across. In trying to find the right words, Vernon seems to understand as a small, boyish grin spreads onto his face. You two discussed your kinks lots of times, sometimes for the fun of it, and Vernon knew some of yours were based solely on your desire for connection and intimacy. And how could he say no to you now when all you wanted was to be close to him?

Wrapping a hand around his cock, he hisses from the lingering traces of sensitivity. He strokes himself a few times before he grows hard again and sinks himself inside of you. While he shudders from feeling you take him so well, he doesn’t roll his hips and you don’t rock back against him. You only press your bodies closer together, love and fullness coaxing you to sleep in tandem with the sound of Vernon’s heartbeat.

The sun bleeds through your curtains, and normally you would trudge to the window to close them shut and fall back asleep peacefully. This time, though, you don’t mind it when you see the rise and fall of Vernon’s naked chest in the sunlight, all while feeling his arms wrapped around you. You know you could watch him sleep all day, the gape of his mouth so kissable and the warmth of his skin calling to be savored. However, those thoughts come to a halt when the sudden desire to grab something to drink hits you. Hating to leave him, you press a soft kiss to Vernon’s temple.

You take an old button-up of his from your closet and tiptoe to the kitchen to grab a glass of water. You know your bed is a room away, but you gulp down the drink to make it there faster. Of course, when you walk back into your room, you see an awake Vernon with a hand propped behind his head. His eyes are droopy, but a sugary smile sits on his lips nonetheless, taking in your article of clothing. “Is that my shirt?”

You grin, a blush creeping on your face. “You left it here, so that makes it mine.” On some level, you had worried this morning would be awkward no matter how many times you had said you loved each other the night before. Still, the ease of falling into your shared banter and routine comforts you. 

“Point taken. You look cuter than I do in it, anyway.” 

Vernon pats the empty spot next to him you were previously occupying, and you have no qualms crawling back into it and into his arms. “Does that mean I can wear all of your shirts when I want? I mean, since I look so cute in them,” you joke, kissing several spots on his jawline.

His hand creeps up to your shoulder, and thanks to the lack of buttons fastened together, he slides the fabric down until one of your breasts peaks out. “As long as I’m the only one who sees you out of them.”

“I think we established that last night.“ You giggle into his neck. “But, to reiterate, yes. You’re the only one I’ll share all of my terrible jokes with, take with me to Taco Tuesdays, and get undressed for.”

Vernon smirks. “That’s what we do anyway, minus the last part.”

“Well, call it an added bonus then, since we’re in love and all.”

The laugh that leaves his lips stops your heart, and you wonder if it’s possible to pack away a sound in your mind for every good and bad day, just to recall this moment. “Deal.”

With that, he places a kiss on your lips as the sun continues gleaming through your window.

You spend the rest of the early morning that way, wrapped up in each other and not bothering to dress. After another post-morning sex nap, you two spend the rest of the day cuddled up on your couch with Chinese takeout, reminiscing about the past, but ready to find out where the future takes you both. Lucky for you, with the way Vernon looks into your eyes, loses his train of thought every time you kiss him, and finds it again when you smile, the future has the potential to be pretty beautiful.

[steveseddie]

gold was the color of the leaves

steddie | rating: t | wc: 1,6k | cw: none | tags: steve pov, silly teenage boys, first kiss, fluff

for @steddie-spooktober day twenty two prompt “leaves”

read here on ao3

Steve wakes up when a leaf tickles his nose– or rather, when someone tickles his nose with a leaf. He scrunches it up, swatting the leaf away with his hand. 

He easily recognizes the snigger that follows so he’s not surprised to open his eyes and find Eddie leaning over him, one elbow propped up on the grass and a devilish grin stretching over his lips.  

Steve lifts his sunglasses to scowl at him. “Are you like, allergic to people relaxing?” He asks in a bitchy tone that only makes Eddie grin wider. 

“Deadly so, Stevie,” he says, long dark eyelashes fluttering as the hand that’s still holding the leaf rests against his forehead like he’s going to faint. “It was either annoying you or dying, and you don’t want me to die, do you?”

“I guess not,” Steve says with a long-suffering sigh, but either the fondness in his voice or the way his lips tick up prove that he doesn’t mean it because Eddie’s grin turns blinding, his dimples popping. Steve is glad he’s already lying down or his knees might’ve buckled at the sight and sent him rolling down the small hill they’re laying on.

“Besides,” Eddie says, tickling Steve’s cheek with the leaf, “you’re missing out on all the fun.”

“Napping is fun,” Steve points out, swatting Eddie’s hand away again. 

“Yeah, if you’re eighty!” Eddie snorts. “Are you an old man, Stevie?”

“Eddie, I’m younger than you,” Steve deadpans. 

“Maybe, but I have a young soul, Harrington–”

Steve smirks. “If by young you mean immature–”

Hand to his heart, Eddie gasps indignantly. “Hey!”

“Dude, you and the kids spent the last hour gathering leaves in piles and jumping on them,” Steve says amusedly. He spent the better part of that hour watching them tackle each other between shrieks of laughter, thankful for his sunglasses and how they let him stare at Eddie as much as he wanted without getting caught.

Eddie shrugs. “Hm, you may have a point.”

When he moves, something in Eddie’s hair catches Steve’s eye. A leaf– proof that he’d spent an hour being tackled and rolling on the floor before he decided to annoy him.

Steve’s fingers itch to reach out and pluck that leaf from Eddie’s hair, smooth the curls down, grab a hold of them and drag Eddie down–

Steve shakes those thoughts out of his head, balling his hands into fists to keep them from reaching out. In the silence that follows, Steve becomes aware of the sudden lack of yells and laughter around them. “Where are the little shitheads?”

“Wheeler sent them to wash their hands so they can have a snack,” Eddie says, pointing at the water fountain where the boys are cleaning up and at Max and El, walking arm in arm towards Nancy and Robin at the picnic table. 

“Not you?” Steve asks, head falling back against the blanket he’s using to lay on the grass. 

Eddie shakes his head. “Nope, I told her she’s not the boss of me,” he pauses, “then ran away before she could hit me with her book.” 

Steve snorts out a chuckle.

“Besides, I don’t want a snack. I got one right here,” Eddie says with a playful wink that turns Steve’s cheeks bright red. 

He ignores the heat creeping on his face. “I swear, Munson, if you try to bite me again–” he says, thinking about last week when Eddie said he was hungry and promptly sunk his teeth on Steve’s arm.

It didn’t hurt that bad– he was wearing a thick sweater after all. What did hurt was biting his tongue as hard as he could to keep a moan from slipping past his lips from Eddie biting him.

Eddie sniggers. “I won’t bite you, I promise,” he says innocently before he leers at Steve, his face hovering merely inches from Steve’s face. “Only if you ask.”

Steve grits his teeth together. “Shut up,” he quips, shoving Eddie off of him until they’re both lying on their backs, their sides pressed together. 

They fall into comfortable silence which Steve breaks with a loud yawn. 

Eddie’s head lolls to the side, eyebrows furrowing slightly. “Tired, sweetheart?”

Steve’s stomach flips at the petname. He shrugs as casually as he can. “A little, I- uh, I didn’t sleep well last night.”

“Nightmares?” Steve nods. Eddie grimaces apologetically, tugging some hair across his face. “Shit, I should’ve let you keep napping.”

Without giving it much thought, Steve curls his pinkie around Eddie’s. “No, it’s fine,” he says, waiting for Eddie to meet his gaze. When he does, his eyes are a little wide. Wistfully Steve wishes it’s because of their interlocked pinkies. “I don’t wanna miss out on all the fun just because I’m tired.”

Eddie's eyes sparkle and he props himself up on his elbow again, grinning at Steve. “Does that mean I can tackle you into a pile of leaves?”

“You forget I was a jock,” Steve says smugly. “I’d like to see you try.”

Eddie laughs, something between a snort and a giggle. He drops his head in Steve’s chest, making Steve’s heart stutter. 

From this angle, Steve spots another leaf trapped in the curls in the back of Eddie’s head, and this time he doesn’t stop himself from reaching for it. 

The moment Eddie feels Steve’s fingers in his hair, his head snaps up and Steve’s hand ends up cupping the back of Eddie’s neck. 

Their faces are close– so close that Steve can hear the way Eddie’s breath catches when he realizes the same thing.

“Eddie–” Steve starts, not sure if he’s going to apologize for touching his hair without permission or for the way his eyes keep darting down to Eddie’s lips in a way that he knows is fucking obvious. 

But before he can decide what to say, he hears Eddie make an impatient, needy noise in the back of his throat before he surges forward and presses his lips against Steve’s. 

He lets out a surprised yelp, thinking– holy shit, Eddie is kissing me!

The thought bounces against Steve’s skull like a ping-pong ball as he tries to get his brain working again. But before he can do that long enough to kiss Eddie back, he’s pulling away and out of Steve’s reach. Steve’s hand falls back to his side, empty except for the leaf that he plucked out of Eddie’s hair. 

“You uh– you had this in your hair,” Steve says dumbly, holding up the leaf. 

Eddie’s eyes dart to the leaf and his expression falls as he realizes that is why Steve’s hand ended up in his hair, not because Steve was making some kind of move.

“Shit,” he mutters, his doe-like gaze darting from the leaf to Steve’s mouth. That he just kissed. “Shit, fuck– I– shit.”

He scrambles to his feet, and in his haste, ends up stumbling and falling back on his ass– only to roll down the small hill. 

“Eddie!” 

Steve jumps to his feet and runs after him, careful not to trip and follow Eddie down the hill the same way.

He makes it to the bottom right after Eddie and his eyes dart over his starfished body, checking for injuries. 

“Christ, dude. Are you okay?”

Eddie groans, covering his face with his hands. “Did the fall kill me? Please say yes.”

Steve suppresses a snort. “I mean. It’s barely even a hill, so I don’t think that’s possible. You might end up with a bruise or two though.”

“Oh, you mean apart from the bruise to my ego?” 

“What?”

“You know,” Eddie gestures between himself and Steve with one hand, “because I kissed you and you didn’t want me to.” 

Steve puts his hands on his hips. “Who says I didn’t want you to?”

Eddie’s hands fall from his face, revealing his wide eyes and slack jaw. “You did?” He asks, voice going high-pitched.

“Yeah,” Steve says, a lopsided grin stretching over his lips. He knocks his Nike against Eddie’s leg. “I did, you just took me by surprise, s’all.”

Eddie lets out a tiny, startled, “Oh.”

Steve smirks. “Yeah so how about you get up so I can check you don’t have any cuts or bruises before I kiss you. Properly this time.”

Eddie squeaks and scrambles to his feet with as much grace as when he tumbled down the hill. Steve finds his eagerness fucking endearing. 

There are even more leaves trapped in Eddie’s curls now, and with an amused shake of his head, Steve plucks them out of his hair before checking for any bruises. 

Then, as promised, he leans in and kisses Eddie. The second kiss is also short and chaste and over too soon, but it’s good and Steve has to remind himself they’re in public in order to gather enough willpower to pull back. 

When he does, his brain is a little hazy and he completely misses the way Eddie’s expression shifts from dopey to mischievous so it catches him by surprise when Eddie tackles him into a pile of leaves, laughing maniacally. 

“Ha! Got ya!” Eddie whoops, pushing himself up onto his hands and knees, hovering over Steve who wants nothing more than to kiss the stupid smug smile off his face. 

But he can hear the kids laughing at him and cheering for Eddie in the distance and there’s no way he can get away with kissing him even if Eddie’s hair falls like a curtain around them, offering a little cover.

So he grabs a handful of leaves and shoves them into Eddie’s grinning mouth instead.

He’ll save the kiss for later.

[otome-dissection]

Idk man I just think that mizu/ena5 and its progression was really beautiful actually. I just think that the release of the ena5 song was also really beautiful and kind of the nail in the coffin for me and I haven't been able to get the event(s) out of my head all week and that I kind of want to talk about it, actually.

It's about being hurt so deeply and continuously that any kindness that could be offered to you manages to feel like a sin, that it makes you crumble and shatter but for all the wrong reasons, not because of the newfound safety, not out of relief, but something worse and more deeply ingrained in you than kindness ever was. It's about carefully measuring the distance at which you keep others away from yourself, to ensure that it never happens again ("To save yourself the trouble", if that makes it easier).

It's about realizing that the people you've been spending all this time with are drifting closer, that they just might bump up against the unsightly parts of yourself that you've tried to keep locked away, it's about turning around and sprinting at full speed and slamming the door shut and holding onto the handle behind you to stop it from turning, because you're as frightened of the possibility of another wound being inflicted on you as you are of the possibility that kinder, gentler hands will reach out and smooth over the exposed scar. It's about hating eyes that judge and silently condemn you as much as you hate eyes that simply see you and take all of you in without scrutiny, because no matter what they're looking and they're looking at you and they know that your hand's on that door handle and they know that you're hiding something because, as much as you try to keep it shut, they've seen through the crack that you foolishly left open.

(The prominence of eyes in Bake no Hana, specifically eyes looking and searching, and finally landing on you, the viewer, Mizuki, is so fucking. Visceral in my opinion. Every character in the MV stares at the viewer in a deadpan, almost judging way. Even though Mizuki knows deep down that niigo won't really hate them, won't judge them, she just can't stand their kindness either; any gaze directed at her is a loss, another prick in their skin. It screams "don't look at me" while making sure that you know, with horrific certainty, that they're looking for you, that you're being watched. You can't go outside, can't leave your room, because they're searching for you, and while that should be reassuring, to you it's anything but).

It's about not wanting to be dissected, whether it's with hands that want to pull your organs apart or stitch them back together because no matter what they're there, and they're getting frighteningly close to your heart. It's about blinding yourself and covering your eyes to it all because seeing means exposure and exposure means they're taking something from you and you can't do anything about it, much less take it all back, much less have a say in the matter. Everyone's just taking and taking and taking and you wish you could just be alone. You wish everyone would just disappear and you could live in a world all to yourself, for only yourself (but is that really what you want?).

It's about the way that, near the beginning of the Yoka ni Mitoreta MV, Mizuki and her loneliness is represented as a dark, splotchy stain in the shadows. No colors, no patterns, no way to clean it or wash it all away, just raw ugliness marring a blank canvas. It's about the way that Ena reaches out to it anyway, the way she startles when the glass shatters just when she finally starts reaching forward, the way that the rest of the MV/song represents her searching for and reaching only further out to Mizuki, even if the broken shards of glass will only cut her fingers, potentially leaving scars.

It's about how, in every way, subtly, directly, consciously, and subconsciously, Ena shows that she fucking cares.

It's about the way that Ena lets Mizuki have autonomy, despite the situation being so horribly out of their control. And it's such a delicate thing: If she really wants to, Mizuki can take the opportunity to just run away, keep running forever, repeat the cycle over and over, and maybe she'll just destroy herself with it again, but it can't be denied that it's something important to them, something she can't quite live without just yet, their means of survival. Mizuki's autonomy is their identity, it's her tailoring her own clothes and choosing her own ribbons and styling her own hair the way she does. Ena letting them have that is as much about trust as it is about understanding that Mizuki of all people should have this right, when control was something stripped from her throughout so much of her life. She couldn't control how she was born, how people look at her or why, can't control what they think of her; lacking control has only left Mizuki vulnerable to the cruelties of others, has only caused them to suffer, which is why it's so important that it's given to them now.

She had the control to make the choice to see niigo's welcoming love and run away instead of staying, and she has the control to make the choice now whether she wants to keep things the way they are or take a step forward to be at their side again. She has every right to have it, and I think the fact that Ena realizes and respects that, even if it's subconsciously, is really beautiful (there is an entire fucking Verse about this in the new song and just. God Look at this. It's so caring, unconditional, and for fucking What. I think there is something to be said about how much Ena is willing to put aside for Mizuki, and maybe deep down it isn't healthy, but for now I'm just kind of in awe)

It's about how insanely patient Ena has been this whole time. Mizuki says that she basically lied to Ena's face about telling her their secret, even after Ena said with such conviction that she would wait for Mizuki as long as it takes, and Ena is just kept waiting and waiting and worrying like this seemingly indefinitely. It's about how Mizuki danced around it, avoided it, kept the distance, straight up ran when she was finally pushed, but Ena still chased anyway when she saw that she couldn't wait anymore, kept chasing just enough to intervene and get a straight answer out of Mizuki when she really needed to, but still leaving her enough space to leave if that was truly what she wanted. It's about how relieved Ena is the moment that Mizuki finally says outright how much they want to be with her and niigo, how much she wants to try, how much more light Ena's voice sounds when she grabs her hand, relieved, the way that the relief she feels can be felt through the music, throughout the entirety of Yoka ni Mitoreta, the way that warm colors always follow her when she chases after Mizuki, just to hold onto her and stop her from running away completely.

It's about how that careful combination of Ena's directness, Ena's persistence, Ena's warmth, her patience, her bluntness about her feelings, the way she chases and holds on but not too tight and her regard for how unsafe and exposed Mizuki feels actually works and breaks it all down. It's about how she really did reach through to Mizuki, despite the thorns and broken glass shards and nearly-unfulfilled promises, the way that Mizuki did finally let her turn the door handle and step through to see what she'd been hiding all this time, the way that Mizuki's hand, limp, when Ena first grabs onto it, shifts to hold hers back as they cry in the face of Ena's gentleness.

Despite how harsh Mizu/Ena5, and even Ena herself as a character can be (or at least was in the very beginning of pjsk), everything is somehow gentle and warm in the end, blindingly so. And you know what, I think that's beautiful. And what's even more beautiful than that is how Mizuki allows themself to crumble and shatter under that kindness, that warm light, but this time, finally, out of relief.

On a final note, I just want to say that I also appreciate how all that didn't have to solve everything. The scars haven't disappeared, haven't gone away, and Mizuki knows that their desire to run hasn't gone away forever, and maybe it never truly will. But for now they've calmed it, at least a little. She's learning to allow herself to be seen, learning that when someone's fingertips brush over their scars the way Ena's did that it's only out of care, and that maybe taking in that care and allowing herself to feel kindness and safety is okay. They're safe, for now, somehow. They're learning. They're trying. And I think that's cool :)

[hocktuah]

ｌｅａｒｎｉｎｇ ｔｈｅ ｇａｍｅ

☆ ｎ． ｈｉｓｃｈｉｅｒ ☆

summary: some cuddling on the couch leads nico to discover your dirty little secret.

word count: 934

“That bastard should’ve never been allowed to stay on the ice.” Nico shakes his head beside you on the couch. Its unaccommodating size and low price tag could make it serve better as a loveseat, but you're all the more grateful for the purchase if it means you and Nico could stay this close anytime he came to visit. You sneer alongside him at your television during the replay of Nico suffering the intentional ram of a hockey stick to his groin. 

“Wait—you mean he didn’t get a…penalty?” You query, quiet and unsure. The sport was never something that interested you prior to meeting Nico, and falling hard for him too. Howbeit, you tried hard to catch onto the lingo and rules of the game whenever he spoke of it so conversation could flow easily. The last thing you wanted to be viewed as was clueless, especially when it came to your new boyfriend’s passion.

“No penalty, no finger wag, nothing! It’s like these refs just turn a blind eye to injury so they can keep up the facade of safety implements in the NHL.” He folds his arms, and turns to you. “I mean, don’t get me wrong, the people who truly care about the player’s wellbeing show it. But as you can see…” he untucked one of his arms and motioned to the TV, which now showed the next faceoff of the game, “there’s a few rotten apples in the bunch.” 

“Do you…do you get injured a lot without the other team facing repercussions?” Another reason you never enjoyed hockey was the brutality of the sport. Much like football players getting tackled into turf, the idea of being slammed against walls and constantly losing teeth never sat well with you.

“I mean, once in a blue moon. And if someone on the team gets tripped or hurt purposely by some goon on the opposite side, we make sure they won’t walk out with a win if we can help it. As for being injured itself,” he shrugs, “what can you do? It’s all part of the game.” You nod solemnly, turning to stare at his concentrated profile.

“Thanks for watching these with me. I hope you’re not bored. I just like to be putting effort in the off season by watching old plays and seeing what we can improve on.” He rolls his eyes at himself. “God, I’m starting to sound like Coach.” He scrubbed face in an attempt to hide his growing blush. 

“No, you sound like a captain who takes pride in his team.” You take his hand and interlock your fingers together. “I could never be bored learning something you’re passionate about.” A heartfelt smile overcame his face, as his eyes flickered between your face and then your joined hands. He brought the bundle of fingers up to his lips to kiss it.

“Here, let’s cuddle.” As he turned to readjust the throw pillow beside him, your eyes enlarged in fear and your grip on his hand tightened. 

“Neeks, wait—” You saw his eyebrows furrow, and knew it was over for you. Now, it was your turn to hide your face in your hands as he grabbed the thick book you'd hidden behind the pillow and read the title aloud. 

“Hockey for Dummies.” A devilish grin builds on his face as he flips through the pages of the neon yellow paperback, littered with colorful highlights, post-its, and small, inked reminders in the margins to ‘ask Nico about this’. “Y/N…were you studying for me?” 

“No, clearly I was planning to take your spot as captain for next season.” You replied defensively. His smile never faltered, and your cheeks stayed burning. “Okay, so what if I was?” 

“There’s nothing wrong with that I just…I want to know why you couldn’t ask me about all of this to begin with. You were already up-front with me on our first date when I told you what I did for a living.” While that was true, you still felt like you owed him something to show how much you cared for him and his career. Being available to watch every game he played proved to be impossible with your work schedule and extracurriculars. But that didn’t mean you couldn’t educate herself outside of your post-scrimmage phone calls for any future conversations.

“I didn’t want to sound stupid talking about a sport you’ve played forever.” You gnawed on your bottom lip while picking at a hangnail to distract from the tightening in your throat. ”I know how much your career means to you and how hard you’ve worked to get there. And I love hearing you talk about it, but when it first came up I couldn’t understand half of the terms of the sport and I wanted so badly to but felt bad asking—” His warm hand cupped your neck in an instant, his lips colliding with yours not a second later in a short, sweet kiss. When you separated, you felt caught up in a daydream you never wanted to escape.

“I love you.” He admitted, while you floundered. “I don’t want you to ever feel bad about asking me something. Never. Okay?” A few seconds of silence transpired between the two of you, until you finally gained the courage to do what he advised, and ask him something.

“Could…can you say it again?”

“Which part?” 

You clarify, “the first one.” He inhales deeply through a fond smile, and proceeds to pepper kisses all over your face, repeating the three words like a mantra: “I love you, I love you, I love you.”

[jeongsoob]

not a bad thing —⋆˚࿔ 𝐜𝐡𝐬

SFW version of my fic posted here on @heechwe .ᐟ ✿ pairing: hansol (vernon) chwe x fem!reader ✿ word count: 3.7k ✿ genre: fluff, angst if you squint ✿ tags: friends to lovers, light drug use ✿ synopsis: Just because you've been friends for so long doesn't mean Vernon isn't keeping some secrets from you, and you're determined to confront him about it.

“Simple but still cute, or spontaneous and fun?” 

Vernon, sprawled out on his back on your bed, looks up from his phone screen in absolute confusion. He’s wearing a rainbow beanie with his plaid button-up and denim jeans, contrasting your leggings and baggy t-shirt. He always acts unaffected by how good he cleans up when he wants to, but you shake the thought out of your head and wait for his answer. “Come again?” he asks.

You’ve been holding out the red and black cropped, long-sleeve shirts for two minutes for your best friend to see. Maybe he would immediately pick one or take his time deliberating, especially with the cutout in the shirts’ centers meant to reveal hints of cleavage. However, the realization that his attention was stolen long ago by some meme in your friend group’s group chat has you huffing and flinging the shirts at the edge of your bed. 

It isn't the first time you've gotten nervous before a date, and it definitely isn't your first runaround with Vernon being out of touch with both his current and past conversations. Still, you value his advice more than anyone’s. Only you need it in an hour before your date arrives, and he’s being less than helpful. “Pick which one you like, idiot,” you whine.

“They’re literally the same shirt. The only difference is the color,” Vernon retorts. He rolls his eyes and resumes his endless scrolling.

“Exactly! I need to know which color you think I should wear. That way I give off the right impression.”

“And what impression exactly are you trying to give?”

“I don't know! Ready to have a good time but not looking to go too fast. Fuck, if only they had a shirt for that.” You rub your temple, contemplating if going on this date was the right decision.

The day Mingyu offered to set you up with his friend, you had half a mind to shut him down. His insistence on this blind date was too much to say no to, though, and going without any romantic or sexual interests for months seemed to take its toll on your resistance. While Vernon wasn't outwardly against the idea, he decidedly brushed it off with a disinterested hum and didn't mention it once until today.

Once he sees the defeat on your face, he caves, leaving his resting spot to grab you by the shoulders. It’s unsaid, but he practically asks outwardly for you to look him in the eye, so you do. “Listen. This guy is gonna like you no matter what color your shirt is. And you wanna know why?” You shrug, deflated. “Because anyone who can't see how hilarious and gorgeous you are is blind, and we don't hang out with blind people.” Vernon crinkles his eyebrows together and sighs. “You know what I mean. Like, metaphorically blind and shit.” 

You laugh. “Thanks, Han.”

You turn away from him to stare at the two shirts still spread out on the bed. “But back to this. Which color do you like more?”

After waiting a few seconds for his answer, you look over your shoulder. He’s miles away, lost in his thoughts again. The look in his eyes and etches of his face are traced with puzzlement, and when you call his name to get his attention and snap him out of it, it’s still there. No matter how hard he tries to hide it with a tight-lipped smile. “Black. Simple but still cute,” he says, his voice soft as he uses your words from earlier, proving he was still listening. 

Satisfied, you grab the top and turn, ready to make a beeline for the bathroom to get dressed. You stop short when you almost bump into Vernon on your way. It's only then you realize how close the two of you are. Less than a foot apart, to be exact. “I gotta get dressed, weirdo.” You try to sound humorous, but the breath accompanying your words sounds bated and unexpectedly airy.

In that second, all while you trace the outline of Vernon’s lips with your eyes, you wonder if maybe it would be so bad to skip the date altogether and do something else. Anything else. As long as you didn’t have to leave the house or Vernon.

“Right,” he whispers, but has no intention to walk closer to the bedroom door. Slowly, his eyes go a fraction wider than they normally do.

Like a silent cue, he steps away and fumbles over his words. “Okay well, good luck and—Sorry, I just—I’ll see you at Seuncheol’s after. You can tell us how it went. That is if you want to!” He stutters, right as he hits the back of his head against the door.

“Hansol! Are you okay—“

“Yeah! I’m fine!” He takes his beanie off to rub the sore spot. “Don’t worry about me. You don’t wanna be late. I’ll see you later!” He races out of the apartment, mumbling and clutching his head. 

While you curl your hair and put on your favorite pair of jeans for your date, your mind goes back to the look in Vernon’s eyes and the thoughts that raced in your head before he took off. And you speculate about what those two things mean, and if they mean anything at all.

“He didn’t even kiss you? What a dumbass.” Vernon mumbles, grabbing his mocha latte. He takes a vigorous sip, humming at the warmth it brings.

“I know. Now pass me a Splenda packet, please?” You pout. Well-adjusted adults would normally be at home and in bed at ten in the evening. But for you and Vernon, you decide on hanging out in your favorite late-night coffee shop for pastries and cold brew. It was better than sitting around at Seungcheol’s, the usual festivities of weed and alcohol not hitting the same way. You both settled on an alternative to fill your time instead.

“How did it go exactly,” Vernon asks, his voice garbled from the cheese danish he stuffed into his mouth.

“Well, I made it to the restaurant and he was there already, which was nice. But as soon as we started talking about ourselves, he was so flat.”

“What do you mean?” His eyebrow furrow, clearly confused.

“He was just very one-dimensional.”

“How so?”

“I mean, he was either talking about accounting, his accountant friends, or his work projects. Maybe it was better that he didn't kiss me. It might have been as boring as his capacity for communication.” You both share a laugh.

“So, I guess this means you don’t want a boring guy who presses his suits and plays golf on the weekends,” Vernon teases with a grin. You shove him playfully in the arm.

“That’s not the point! I mean, yeah, I don’t mind if a guy is serious, but I want someone who makes me laugh too. Who I don’t have to worry about liking my jokes but also sets a table or buys me flowers once and awhile.” You sigh.

While on your diatribe, Vernon grabbed your vanilla bean frappuccino. In a second, he has your straw in his mouth for a long sip. He smiles when he passes your drink back to you, unapologetic. “Someone who steals your drink for himself?”

You throw a napkin at him in retaliation. “I hate you!”

“Everything okay here, miss?” The barista asks, his name-tag shining against the dim lamps surrounding the cafe.

“We’re all good—Joshua—thank you.” You give him your best smile, to which he flashes his own at you. His teeth sparkle as much as his name-tag does, you think to yourself.

“Just Josh, please. The only one who uses my full name is my mother.”

You two exchange a chuckle, and you notice Vernon is not laughing or smiling at all. His eyes are mere slits, you can barely see the brown in his irises. His mouth follows in the same fashion, but downturned at the corners if anyone was paying close attention.

Joshua hands you a packet of chocolate-covered almonds, and he blushes. “They go really great with the frappes.”

“Oh thank you, but I didn’t—”

“It’s on the house. As long as you keep coming back.” Joshua turns to walk back to the coffee bar, suddenly tense as he leaves you and Vernon at your table.

Looking back to your best friend, you can see why. The original expression on his face has changed to pure anger. Vernon looks like he wants to blip the poor barista out of existence, and his long, hard stare in the guy’s direction might just make his wish come true.

“What’s wrong with you dude?” you ask Vernon directly.

When he turns to look at you, the stone in his expression softens a touch. “That guy seems like a creep.”

“He was just being nice!”

“He gave you a pack of nuts. Who does that?” He scoffs outwardly, and you can’t help but laugh. “What? You know I’m right.”

“Next time a cute guy gives me a snack, I’ll make sure you vet him first.” You wink at Vernon, but he remains hard-pressed. “Come on, don’t be jealous!”

“Of coffee boy? Please.” Vernon shrugs off your comment and crosses his arms. Something unreadable passes over his face for a brief moment. You would ask him about it, but you know the man is anything but overly emotional or easily vulnerable.

You try anyway. “Han, what’s wrong?”

He shakes his head and gets up to throw away his coffee, half unfinished. “Nothing, I’m fine,” he lies, looking away from you with a cold lilt to his tone. “Let’s get out of here.”

The sound of Vernon’s voicemail causes you to grunt in frustration, the beginning of the message you practically know by heart now. After the stint in the coffee-shop, Vernon walked you home without a word and hasn’t interacted with you since then. After being left on read for the past three days, you are all kinds of antsy. Normally, he would text or call instantly with a reason, but it’s been nothing but silence on his end. Your black phone screen makes you rub your temples. What did you do wrong?

“At this point we should send a carrier pigeon,” Lisa says with a shake of her head. 

“She’s got it bad, babe,” Hoshi comments with a wink in your direction. He kisses Lisa on the cheek on his way to their kitchen. 

When things went wrong, it was second nature to confide in Lisa and Hoshi. Two childhood friends turned dance prodigies and then inseparable lovers? They sounded like the plot of a bestselling romance novel. And admittedly, you wish you could find what they had. Why did you have to encounter so many red flags and road blocks?

“I mean, we all know you’ve been down for him for…three years now?”

“Shut up, Soon!” You exclaim, blushing. “I just don’t know why he’s gone AWOL on me.”

“Maybe he’s in a mood. You know him,” Lisa responds.

“Not like this. This is the longest we’ve ever gone without even sending an emoji to each other,” you say with a frown. You scroll through your conversation, the endless blue bubbles making your stomach sink further.

“He’s gonna be at Wooz’s tomorrow night for that party,” Hoshi says with the slam of the fridge door. You nod your head, already aware. Hoshi smirks. “Corner him there.”

Vernon was closer friends than you were with Woozi, someone you knew in passing because of his relationship with your best friend. But you had been to the guy’s apartment many times before. It wouldn’t be weird to attend, sans Vernon. Right?

“Fuck it,” you think out loud. “Lisa, can I borrow an outfit?”

The party is in full swing by the time you arrive. Chan answers the door with a grin, patting you on the shoulder when you step through the threshold. Woozi and Seungcheol are karaoke battling in Woozi’s living room while the rest of the partygoers are either drinking beer or in circles puffing and passing.

You decline when Minghao tries to hand you his half of a joint, a dopey grin plastered on his face. You want to be sober when you confront your best friend for leaving you in the dark for half of the week, even if you know it’ll take the edge off of your nerves.

When you find Vernon, he’s grabbing a hard lemonade from the spare cooler on top of Woozi’s counter. His eyes, the usual white around his irises pink from the party favors, go wide when he sees you. “Fuck me,” he says out loud.

“Yeah, fuck you is right,” you bite back. “Why haven’t you been answering your phone?”

His mouth is agape, giving no attempt to provide an answer. no answer. You get angrier the longer the seconds go by without one.

“Okay, how about an easier question: Why couldn’t you respond with a thumbs up or something when I asked if you were still alive?”

He runs a hand through his hair in frustration, another curse leaving his lips.

“Fine. Keep being weird about whatever the fuck is wrong. I wanted to try and make sure my best friend was okay, but he can’t even give me a solid explanation as to why he’s being a dickhead.”

Vernon takes your hand and walks quickly with you in tow. The people you pass move out of his way before they get body-slammed, some of them confused while others are too drunk or high to care. 

When you make it to a bathroom off of the hallway, Vernon closes the door behind you and locks it. He takes a second before turning to you with a solemn expression. 

“We can’t be friends anymore.” The words that leave his mouth break your heart to pieces and steal any semblance of air from your lungs. You didn’t expect to come into tonight and lose a friend, especially when you were unsure of what you did to cause Vernon to feel that way.

Your eyes begin to water with tears, but you don’t let them run over. “What the fuck do you mean?”

“I’m saying I can’t keep doing this.”

“Doing what?” Your voice grows thin. You’re confused how every word from his mouth sounds more sure than the one before while you’re falling apart.

But, even though he keeps up a composed posture, you can tell something inside of him is cracking. His bottom lip is caught in his teeth and his hands are fidgeting, two signs something is bugging him beyond his will.

“Please just tell me what I did wrong and I can fix it. I can’t help make this better if you don’t tell me what—”

In a second, Vernon has your back pinned against the bathroom counter. His lips capture yours in a bruising kiss, giving your quick gasp no time to leave your mouth. He swipes his teeth over your bottom lip while his hands roam from your waist to the expanse of your hips.

When you separate for breath, you look deep into his eyes. Vernon’s expression brims with naked emotions, ones undecorated and unprepared, ones he cannot hide anymore. “If that’s the only time I got to do that when I’ve wanted to for so long, I had to make it count.” His confession should feel like a shock, something you were not ready for and quick to play off as an after effect of the joints he’s been smoking for the past couple hours, but it doesn't.

Instead, you accept it, with open arms and without a first or second thought to the contrary.

You soak in his words willingly, knowing for certain your heart wasn’t just wishing for someone. It was always wishing, comparing, waiting…for him.

The shuffle into your apartment is so quick you don’t hear Vernon close the door and lock it behind you. Even though you spent enough time pressed against each other in Woozi’s bathroom, the sticky and sweet feelings coming back to you in flashes, Vernon did not let go of your hand the entire walk home from the party. “It was so cold outside, I’m sure my nose is red.” Looking in the hallway mirror, you frown. “Yeah. I look like a reindeer.” You pout, falling into a fit of laughter. 

Vernon chuckles, releasing his hand from yours to place on your cheek, his fingers oddly warm. He kisses the tip of your nose lovingly. “You’re a cute reindeer, if that helps,” He says. Stepping away from you, he takes off his jacket and places it on the coat-rack. “A few minutes with the heater on and it’ll feel like summer in here.”

“Don’t make me sweat, weirdo.”

Despite knowing how the timbre of his laughter felt against your neck, you knew those things didn’t compare to the candid moments that made you love him. He didn’t take notice of the squinted shape of his eyes reading his phone screen, or even the press of his hand against your back to make you feel safe. But you did, every instance more clear than they’ve ever been before. They were so minuscule on their own, but when they were all stacked together in every year and tear and smile, it was a wonder how you didn’t know you fell in love with him so long ago. 

You don’t have to tell him you feel that way, though. He can see it in the stillness of your eyes, in the small and tender smile painting your mouth, in the red tint of your cheeks. He has felt the same too many times to count. You claimed his heart for all the reasons he claimed yours. Of course, it took you both almost half a decade to realize it.

He steps closer, a breath separating your bodies. Taking your hand in his, he kisses each finger before pressing his lips to the knuckles. You grin wider and rest your head on his chest. It’s a tiny marvel to feel the steady thrum of his heart against your ear, all the times being strictly platonic. Its tempo is a soft rhythm that has sent you to sleep on multiple occasions during sleepovers and movie marathons. Now, it’s as if the rhythm sounds different, beating with an entirely different meaning. You suddenly feel shy with him this close, the silent actions speaking for themselves.

“Are you tired,” he asks, lips brushing the curve of your scalp.

You shake your head. “No. I’ve never felt more awake.” You look up at him, a realization at the forefront of your mind. While you may have been together all night, and your mutual confession in Woozi’s bathroom was barely two hours ago, it feels like a world away since you last touched him. Intent, charged with what needs to be spoken and doesn’t, too vivid to go unnoticed.

Like the blunt release of a bowstring, it’s a sudden rush of lips gravitating to each other. The sensation is a mix of desire and affection with the words that you both were too scared to say blended in: I love you and I want you and I need you and I don’t know how I’ll ever stop.

The sun bleeds through your curtains, and normally you would trudge to the window to close them shut and fall back asleep peacefully. This time, though, you don’t mind it when you see the rise and fall of Vernon’s chest in the sunlight, all while feeling his arms wrapped around you. You know you could watch him sleep all day, the gape of his mouth so kissable and the warmth of his skin calling to be savored. However, those thoughts come to a halt when the sudden desire to grab something to drink hits you. Hating to leave him, you press a soft kiss to Vernon’s temple.

You take an old button-up of his from your closet and tiptoe to the kitchen to grab a glass of water. You know your bed is a room away, but you gulp down the drink to make it there faster. Of course, when you walk back into your room, you see an awake Vernon with a hand propped behind his head. His eyes are droopy, but a sugary smile sits on his lips nonetheless, taking in your article of clothing. “Is that my shirt?”

You grin, a blush creeping on your face. “You left it here, so that makes it mine.” On some level, you had worried this morning would be awkward no matter how many times you had said you loved each other the night before. Still, the ease of falling into your shared banter and routine comforts you.

“Point taken. You look cuter than I do in it, anyway.” 

Vernon pats the empty spot next to him you were previously occupying, and you have no qualms crawling back into it and into his arms. “Does that mean I can wear all of your shirts when I want? I mean, since I look so cute in them,” you joke, kissing several spots on his jawline.

“I'll accept it.”

You giggle into his neck. “And you’re the only one I’ll share all of my terrible jokes with and take with me to Taco Tuesdays.”

Vernon smirks. “That’s what we do anyway.”

“Well, call the kissing an added bonus then, since we’re in love and all.”

The laugh that leaves his lips stops your heart, and you wonder if it’s possible to pack away a sound in your mind for every good and bad day, just to recall this moment. “Deal.”

With that, he places a kiss on your lips as the sun continues gleaming through your window.

You spend the rest of the early morning that way, wrapped up in each other and not bothering to go outside. You two spend the rest of the day cuddled up on your couch with Chinese takeout, reminiscing about the past, but ready to find out where the future takes you both. Lucky for you, with the way Vernon looks into your eyes, loses his train of thought every time you kiss him, and finds it again when you smile, the future has the potential to be pretty beautiful.

@hyperdramas @tocupid @hursheys @slytherinshua @yvnempire @sjylouvre @mini-mews @jayparked @heesuncore @yoursjaeyun @sungbeams @jenoslutie @loserlvrss @pars-ley @lovetaroandtaemin @wonwovy

𝐧𝐞𝐭𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤𝐬 ౨ৎ˚₊

@kstrucknet @k-films @kvanity-main @sweetvenomnet @onedoornet @sayxonet @violetanet @svthub @whipped-kpop-creators

[sh1-n0bu]

I believe in anemo boys with a small sensitive dick supremacy

-creampuff

♡︎ 𝙨𝙦𝙪𝙞𝙙𝙬𝙖𝙧𝙙 𝙣𝙤𝙨𝙚 ♡︎

characters: sub!6reeze x dom!nb!reader

warnings: degrading, cock shame, praise, overstimulation, edging, usage of toys, bondage, exhibitionism, feminization, pet play, consensual drugging

notes: a gift and request for @creampuff-nonanon . there u go bby also hi sub genshin tags, mama’s back /jk jk jk HEAVY jk

surprised that the mighty and infamous traveler has a small dick? well don’t be. also are you blind as hell? aether? being a dom? having a big dick? with that grab-able waist???? nah

tease him for it. place your hand on his thigh while you two sit together next to each other behind a table at a restaurant, waiting for your orders

then slowly rub circles into his clothed flesh, put a slight pressure on his thigh to remind him of who he belongs to. inch your hand up slowly, make him shiver, gulp and make his breath hitch in his throat as the mighty traveler tries to keep his composure in public

he cries so easily and so prettily

pinch his nipples while palming him through his pants. just a few minutes and aether would be grinding his ass on your crotch, sobbing and whining for you to touch him already

sweetest and most pliant sub. archons he’s such a sweetheart

you wanna dress him up in pretty lingerie? no problem!

want him to bend over your work desk? he’ll do it right away!

want to call him your pretty slut? your sweet bunny? only your pretty doll to stare and fondle and break? he’s more than happy to be called those! just be sure to take good care of his tired body afterwards. we all know he needs it

“haanh♡︎~! [n-nameee] so good♡︎♡︎feels so gooddd aahnn♡︎” tired, salacious moans continued to tumble out of the blonde’s mouth as he throws his head back on your shoulder, hips bucking to try and chase after his nth orgasm for the night as much as he could with your other hand holding his wrists together in a tight grip.

everything felt too much. there were dried tear stains on his flushed cheeks, constantly being replaced with fresh ones. the world looked so blurry, every little sound felt like pans being hit together next to his ear but at the same time everything felt so little. it all felt so little without your hand wrapped around his tiny cock, without your voice to whisper dirty words into his ear, making him shiver and gasp to your words.

aether let out a loud sob as you forced another orgasm out of him, a string of broken noises following along as you continue to move your hand, rubbing the slit of his cock, making him hiss out at the feeling of overstimulation. but aether loved it. he loved it and he craved more of it.

another sweet sub who will pliantly lay down and take whatever you give him without complaints

even if it means having a vibrator slipped inside him for the whole day as he tries to act as normal as possible. however the small glare he sends your way, the slight stutter in his words, the hitching of his breath, the tremble in his legs if he sits in one place for too long - it was all very much noticeable. at least, to you

is definitely into light pet play, feminization and consensual drugging

he literally wears thigh highs under his shorts. take that to your advantage. slip a finger into the tight rubber part where it hugs his pristine pale thigh so lovely, pull back a bit only to snap it back in place with a low schwap!

it’ll have the poor samurai jumping in his heat, trying to hide his reddening face as he shoots you a faux side glare all the while rubbing his thighs together so he can add slight stimulation to his already hardening cock - archons, you really know how to get him going, don’t you?

make him wear a cat tail butt plug, cute pairs of white ears, matching the color of his hair - hell, you can even collar him if you want, kazuha doesn’t mind! but just know that if you’re placing a collar around his neck, he’s expecting you to take him in a mating press until he passes out

also likes feminization to a certain degree. the cute lingeries, stockings, mini skirts that barely hide his hardened tiny dick and the material of the skirt that keeps rubbing the sensitive head of his member - he loves it all

small, muffled whines is heard from inside the small room that keeps the cleaning supplies of the crux. anyone who passes by would easily be able to know what’s going on inside it. good thing it was the middle of day time and every members were busy on deck outside with their respective jobs.

after all, if anyone were to hear the sluttish moans and sobs of the fucked stupid samurai, who’s barely keeping himself pushed against the door on his toes, you would certainly be more than jealous. kazuha is your pretty slutty kitty and you want nothing more than to simply keep him to yourself.

with his hands tied up, covering his mouth to quiet himself and the slight grinding movements of his doughy thighs weakly rutting himself against you - you would mistake him for an angel sent only for you. but, you want to keep him only to yourself. especially that cute teary eyed, flushed face of his♡︎.

oh lawd have mercy. i have a very detailed, improper, lecherous thoughts of this twink and you all know it by now

i already have a fic written abt small dick xiao supremacy and it’s here if you wanna read it yourself

but, to keep it in short and to infect y’all with my new brain worm - imagine! the tattoo on his abdomen goes all the way down to the next of his tiny cock and it glows when he’s feeling overstimulated

jerking him off over and over, making him create a mess on the sheets, on your hands, creating a small puddle of cum on his abs - you only hum with a sadistic tone as xiao cries out, releasing another load as his legs weakly twitch

make him wear a cute panty inside his pants, he would have a cute flush on his cheeks the whole day even when he’s slaying creatures or simply watching liyue from the top of one of the great mountains of the geo nation

and imagine imagine!!!! xiao in heat!!!

but even beTTER❗️

sub xiao in heat who has a small sensitive cock, who wants to fuck you full but doesn’t know what to do or where to start and so he simply lays back on the nest that you two created, sobbing, wailing and trashing around as you force the nth orgasm from him that night

everything felt dizzy. the room felt too hot and every intake of breath was followed by a loud lecherous sound. was that sound truly coming from him? from the infamous yaksha? the last standing guardian of the geo lord and his nation?

“how pathetic, xiao” his legs twitch, tattoos glowing brighter as he cries out, sure to make even celestia know your name. the poor yaksha felt humiliated but he also craved more of it.

he wanted you to completely break him until his mind can only remember your word, the feeling of your hand on his cock and the feeling of your strap/cock shaping his hole, rearranging his insides until he’s sure his body is accustomed to your shape and size.

another strangled scream escapes the adepti, hand starting to turn into claws as he clutches at the pillows under him like a lifeboat, scales and feathers starting to appear on the back of his neck, his arms and thighs - ah, what a beautiful bird you have, wrapped up around your fingers.

another sub that likes feminization. however unlike kazuha he can totally dress up and wants a princess treatment

whether it be a skirt, a dress, lingerie, stocking, bathrobe or even those cute but still sexy costumes - venti can rock every single one of them and he does it with pride

i see him as the type of sub who’s more of a pillow prince. he just wants to lay down on the soft bed that you two share and let you do the work. of course there will be a few helps and guiding here and there, maybe he would even ride you if he feels like it that day

also, he’s the type to tease you. i don’t make the rules or maybe i do

the type to throw you a side glance with a wink when you’re both at angel’s share, taking the night slow and peaceful until the little shit decides to be a rat and make himself comfortable on your lap

it may seem innocent and lovey-dovey to others at first but don’t be fooled. he’s secretly grinding himself on your crotch, intent on making you feel the low buzzing of the vibrator he slipped inside himself

be sure to make him pay for it afterwards. only good boys get praises and prince treatments after all

“[name]! [n-name]! pleaashee ‘m shorry♡︎!! won't-won't do it aga-AANGH♡︎♡︎!!!“ came out venti’s pleas as you piston your hips to ram into his sweet spot more roughly. he was being a teasing little shit, of course this was bound to happen.

but, you suppose you’ve been mean to him for long enough today. not only was the archon’s hands were bound together in a pretty teal ribbon, he was also not allowed to cum the entire time as well. hmm, perhaps you could be nice. just for once though.

reaching a hand down between his shaking legs, you start to skillfully work your hand up and down his sensitive tip slowly. ah, seems like you were right. only a few strokes and he’s cumming all over your hand with a lecherous sob. so unlike an archon.

you should do this to him more♡︎.

another bratty sub. archons when would they stop being such a little shits

will talk back, will defy your rules and disregard your warnings and will cry and plead for a break when his tiny dick is being overstimmed by the flesh light you’re torturing him with

another sub that’s into pet play as well. but he tends to lean more towards the puppy side unlike kazuha and xiao who leans towards the cat side

i don’t know if you guys noticed but he canonically wears a choker in his day to day outfit and i think that alone itself says a LOT about the kind of pet play he would be into

wouldn’t mind having you connect a cute leash to his collar, forcibly making him cockwarm you for hours as he writhes on your lap, unable to focus on his paper work. while you’re at it, be sure to tug him down by the leash to sit snuggly on your lap again if he tries to move - which i’m pretty sure he would

use the side cuts to his shirt to your advantage. slip a hand in and pinch his nipple, that’ll be more than enough to have him jumping in his seat with a surprised squeak, looking at you with a shell shocked face blooming a pretty red color

hell, you can even use his cute flat chest as a free stress balls. they’re the perfect size and gets the most delicious of reactions out of the detective

“the suspect s-seems to be telling the truth-hnggh♡︎! w-when he said that he wa-aanhh♡︎♡︎!!” the detective on your lap moaned, trying to finish reading his reports out loud as you had asked him to, only to fail and end up moaning out loud when you pulled him back down by his leash, hitting his sensitive spot in the process.

archons, this whole cock warming thing had been going on for hours. hours! and yet you still insist on making him suffer more? just how cruel could you get?

swallowing a sob that was rising in his throat, heizou took a stuttered breath in, willing himself to continue with your punishment as long as you see fit.

even as his legs start to twitch, his breathing becoming labored, his words turning into a jumbled mess and strings of broken noises come from his throat, heizou will bear the punishment. it’s exactly what he wanted after all♡︎.

dear lord have merch once again ugh

if you guys have read my nsfw fanfics and have been stalking my account since it’s birth then you guys know by now the amount of vile shit i wanna do to this man consensually ofc

i personally like to think of him as a transmasc bc come on. the power of pussy but for this one, i’ll make him have a dick

an incredibly small one

and super sensitive

also has a thin line of his tattoo going down rigggghhtt beside his member, which glows when he’s being teased or overstimulated

poor little crybaby. he’s been sucked over and over for who knows how long, his legs are twitching, hips trying and failing miserably to pull himself away, weak hands pushing at your head - all to no luck

at this point, the puppet is ready to give up. honestly

you’re saying something. something about him being tasty or some shit but he can’t understand

that mushy head of his is too fried to even properly understand anything

use that opportunity of his momentary shutting up to your advantage and teach him to never call you any mean names again . of course it must be followed by a nice long bath and a sweet amount of kisses

wanderer tried to form a sentence - a plea to make you pull away from his cock, a gurgled whine and slurred speech of unidentifiable words tumbling out of his mouth. it only got more and more high pitched and hurried as he felt another wave of orgasm approaching.

hand pathetically pawing at your head, more tears replacing his old ones as the knot in his stomach tightens, bends and sways until it finally breaks - making the short puppet let out a cacophony of sobs as he cums into your mouth again.

for a simple puppet who was first created to become an archon, his cum sure tasted sweet, like a mix of strawberry and sweet berry juice. how adorable♡︎.

[wokeupinmars]

A Face Full of Kisses

Summary: How Aunt May find outs about Peter & Y/n relationship (from “how many mimosas does it take…”)

masterlist

Since moving out, Peter has made it a point to go see his aunt at least once a week.

The idea of her being lonely wasn’t the reason why Peter insisted on a weekly visit or two as well as a phone call a day even if it was just to check-in. The idea itself was almost laughable. 

May was by no means a lonely woman, in fact, she was a social butterfly, she loved meeting new people and new people loved meeting her. It seems like no matter where she went, May made a friend. 

Peter did it because May was the only family he had left. He had spent a lot of time pushing her away after Ben passed, he felt so guilty and then with the start of his vigilant duties, he believed it was safer if there was a rift, something he believed for everyone in his life. 

But that all came to a stop when he was preparing to officially leave home. Family was important, and he knew that. He finally came to realize that intentionally pushing away the last family member he had left was a shitty thing to do, especially when they were in the same boat. 

Today, May would be coming over while Peter cooked for a change. She made dinner for him and his late uncle every day for years, he thought it was about time that he returned the favor. 

Peter was not the best chef, so when he called you earlier that day asking for your assistance, you were more than happy to help. 

The two of you spent the afternoon rushing around the kitchen, making sure you were following the recipes to a T. 

You ended up leaving about half an hour before May was expected to arrive, not without peppering kisses over your boyfriend’s face before parting ways. 

His phone rings, the voice on the other end letting him know they’re about to be there. He rushes down the stairs to the lobby of the building to retrieve his aunt as she arrives. 

She takes one look at him and bites back a laugh, opening her arms to give him a big hug, asking how he was as they headed up to his apartment.

“I’ve been alright, this week at work was actually really good, except for a minor explosion in the lab but no one got hurt. You can put your stuff on the couch,” he replied, opening the door for her. 

“Wow, the food smells great!” She expressed, walking through the small kitchen into the living room, gently folding her jacket over the back of the couch. Just as she was about to drop her bag on the cushion, she stops, turning to look at Peter, “Was Y/n here?” 

The question caught him off guard, “Yes, she was. She helped me with dinner. How’d yo-” he was cut off by his now overjoyed aunt, “Oh my! Is she finally your girlfriend?” 

He couldn’t help but be confused, tilting his head at his aunt before asking why she would think that. “Peter, a blind man could see how you feel about her. But the purse I got her for her birthday last year is here.” She spoke, holding up the bag for him to see. 

“She must have forgotten to grab it before she left. That doesn’t mean she's my girlfriend though, she’s been over plenty of ti-,” his words come to a halt as he watches May rummage through the bag. 

“That’s incredibly invasive.” He begins but once again stops as she holds out a tube of lipstick, opening it and taking a look at the color. “Just as I suspected.” He looks at her puzzled. “Sweetheart, if you’re going to lie to me, at least be good at it. Go take a look at yourself in the mirror.” 

And he does, heading into the bathroom and flicking on the lights, only to be met with the sight of your lipstick stain all over his face. He shakes his head trying suppress his smile as blush starts creeping up his neck as he stared at his reflection.

May stands in the hallway, giggling to herself at her nephew’s reaction. “How long?” 

“I asked her to officially be my girlfriend about a month ago.” He answers truthfully, “We haven’t told anyone yet since it’s still new.” 

“Oh, I’m so happy for you two! I’ll have to call her later. Ben and I always thought you’d end up together.” 

“Really?” 

“Really?” She mocks him. “Peter, you’re acting so surprised as if you guys didn’t get “married” in the backyard when you were little, I still have the video at home.” 

“Oh, my god.” 

“You brought all your teddies out as witnesses, it was adorable.” She gushed.

He could feel his face get flush, as she talked. “Let’s eat, the food’s probably getting cold. What would you like to drink? We made lemonade earlier.” 

“We,” she repeated merrily, her is smile wide as he leaves her standing in the hallway in an attempt to hide how much his cheeks were heating up.

[asdfghjklmals]

PINKY PROMISES✩༶‧˚

GENRE + T/W: sfw, fluff, angst. menstruation comment. WORD COUNT: 2.3k words. TAGS: satoru gojo x fem!oc, boyfriend!gojo, child megumi fushiguro x fem guardian!oc, adoptedkiddos!megumi & tsumiki

SYNOPSIS: it's been two weeks since learn to love, and megumi still hasn't opened up to oc gojo girlfriend or satoru yet. so oc gojo girlfriend decides to teach him something about promises. AUTHOR'S NOTE: i have a soft spot for gojo being megumi's guardian. oc gojo girlfriend is trying so hard, little does she know, megumi actually really loves her already, he's just too shy to show it. REMINDER: if you want to imagine yourself in oc gojo girlfriend's character descriptions instead, please do!

it was dinner time at the dining hall for all the tokyo jujutsu high school students. while the men were cooking dinner (and by men, that meant all the men were watching nanami cook dinner), you and shoko spoke about the recent gossip that spread like wildfire across campus: you and satoru gojo becoming parents.

“so, gojo brought these kids to your room and basically said that he’s taking them in?” shoko repeated. 

“yeah, crazy right? as of two weeks ago, i'm a mother.” you said as you watched megumi and tsumiki in the corner of the kitchen, they were coloring with crayons.

“do you really think that you and gojo can be parental figures in their lives?” she questioned as you were still gazing over at them.

“satoru seems to think so. i didn’t think he’d make me a teen mom.” you joked.

as you watched the two young fushiguros, you wondered if you would be good enough to give them parental advice as they grow up in yours and satoru’s care.

could satoru really raise megumi to be a jujutsu sorcerer? everyone knew that satoru gojo was the strongest, but could he raise a jujutsu sorcerer even if he wasn’t fully trained himself? satoru was still working on perfecting his own techniques like his long distance teleportation and his domain expansion. only you were second to him in laying out your domains.

who would give the birds and the bees talk to megumi? and who would be there for tsumiki when she starts to mature? when she gets her first period? that would be up to you to teach her about puberty and becoming a woman. god, satoru gojo couldn’t even talk about the reproductive system without giggling.

***********************************

“how does (y/n) feel about you taking the kids in?” suguru asked as he and satoru watched nanami flip over gyozas in the frying pan. 

“she didn’t take me seriously at first.” satoru replied to him. his mouth watering at the sight of the crispy gyozas. the oil in the pan danced along with the sitting gyozas.

“i mean... have you seen yourself? we can’t even take you seriously.” nanami retorted.

satoru frowned, “thanks nanami...”

“(y/n) is kind. she would do anything to help.” yu haibara put in his two cents. he was a big fan of yours, it was because you were so nice to him and nanami when they joined jujutsu high. you were the one to show them around campus on their first day.

“haibara is right, (y/n) is the best. satoru is lucky to have her. i don’t know how she deals with him.” suguru laughed as he put his arm around satoru's shoulder, teasing him.

“she said she’d help, but that’s after i begged.” satoru grumbled. he hated to admit that he had to beg.

“you? beg?” nanami snorted. he flipped the last of the gyozas and put them on the shared plate. he turned back to the stove and stirred the soup that was boiling away.

“i told her the circumstances, it was up to her ultimately. i could've raised them myself.” satoru folded his arms in defense. he looked over at you and shoko and saw that you were watching the kids too.

***********************************

you and shoko got up to walk over to where megumi and tsumiki were coloring.

“megumi? tsumiki?” you called their names. megumi continued to color and tsumiki looked over at you obediently. her smile could blind a country. she was such a happy child despite her situation.

“kids, this is shoko ieiri. she’s a second year like me and satoru. she’s studying to be a doctor, so if you guys get hurt, you’ll see shoko, okay?”

“hi kids.” shoko waved to the children. she was able to hold a steady conversation with tsumiki, but megumi continued to color and color and color. he didn’t pay anyone any mind.

“dinner’s ready!” haibara called out. 

“come on, let’s eat.” shoko grabbed tsumiki’s hand and guided her to the dining table. you were about to leave with them, but saw that megumi didn’t get up from the little table to join everyone.

“megumi, are you hungry?” you crouched down to ask him. he ignored you, like he had been doing for the past two weeks. you folded your arms in discontentment.

how were you going to get through to this kid? his walls were up and you didn’t know how to bring them down. how could you let megumi know that you were there for him?

“megumi! let’s eat dinner!” tsumiki called out to him, but he just brushed her off. 

“i'm not hungry.” he said quietly.

“it’s okay, shoko, tsumiki—go ahead.” you shoo’d them away.

you stood back up and let megumi color in peace. you made eye contact with satoru and frowned in defeat. you were worried about megumi. these past two weeks have been hard on you because you tried everything you could to get through to him, to build a relationship with him.

as you sat at the dining table with everyone, you couldn’t work up an appetite. you poked at your gyoza and sipped at your soup.

“you not hungry, babe?” satoru asked, putting his arm around your shoulder as you softly sighed, his free hand rubbing your thigh. 

“not really. i'm worried about megumi. something seems to be bothering him.”

satoru squeezed your hand as both of you looked over at megumi. he was still coloring. you saw him look over at the table a couple of times when tsumiki started to laugh while talking to shoko and haibara. 

you got up from the dining table as satoru’s arm fell from your shoulder to the back of your now empty chair. he watched you while you grabbed a small bowl of soup and a couple pieces of gyoza. you made your way back to the table where megumi was coloring.

you greeted him, “hi megumi, i brought you some food.”

“i said i wasn't hungry.” megumi repeated himself again, avoiding all eye contact with you. 

“well, you haven’t eaten since breakfast, you must be hungry.” you frowned.

“no, i'm not.” 

did you just hear some sass in his tone? you squinted at him.

“well, i'm not leaving until you eat your food.” you quipped back at him.

if megumi fushiguro wanted to have a stubborn competition, he was going to have a stubborn competition—and you were the reigning queen of this (satoru would know).

you watched him color. he was drawing two dogs, a white one and a black one. you remembered your older brother, touya, teaching you about the zen’nin clan and the ten shadows technique. the first shikigami a ten shadows technique user could summon were the demon dogs.

was megumi already seeing his shikigami?

“are those your dogs?” you asked him as you pointed at his drawing.

of course, he just ignored you. you dug deeper. “are they the demon dogs?” 

megumi stopped coloring and looked up at you, “what do you know about the demon dogs?”

“well, i know that it’s the first shikigami a ten shadows technique user can summon. they are used for many different things like tracking, fighting, or just being there by your side to keep you company.” you told him.

megumi put down his crayons—it seems like you finally piqued his interest.

***********************************

“hmmm, it looks like she got the kid to stop coloring.” satoru announced, looking over at the table as he watched you and megumi.

he felt a weird feeling inside—it was a warm and fuzzy feeling. his heart swelled watching you with megumi.

all the second years and first years looked over at the table to watch you and megumi as well.

***********************************

“can you tell me about the ten shadows?” megumi asked you quietly. 

“only if you eat your dinner.” you made him a deal, it was up to him to take it or not.

megumi furrowed his brows as he slowly reached for the pair of chopsticks to pick up a piece of gyoza. you felt that you could continue telling him what you knew now that he started to eat. 

“there’s a specific hand sign that you have to do in order to summon any of the shikigami.” you explained. 

“do you know the hand signs for the dogs?” megumi asked, chewing his food. 

you smiled softly. “i don’t, but i know who does.” 

“who?” 

“satoru gojo does.” 

“oh, the creepy guy with the white hair and sunglasses?” megumi’s comment made you laugh out loud. that was the first time someone called satoru gojo creepy.

“he does give you the creeps, huh? me too.” you joked with him. megumi cracked a smile. 

“oh, did i just get a smile from the megumi fushiguro?” you feigned with shock.

megumi started to grin, but he quickly contained himself. he ate some more gyoza and sipped at his soup.

“megumi... i know your father and mother left you and tsumiki—” you started to say, but megumi interrupted you. 

“and? it doesn’t matter—everyone always leaves in the end anyways.”

you blinked in shock at how straightforward this 5 year old boy could be. you actually weren’t even sure if he was 5 anymore with that last comment of his. 

“well, satoru and i won’t—we’ll always be there for you and tsumiki. i promise—and (y/n) (l/n) never breaks her promises.” you held out your pinky to megumi in hopes that he’ll pinky promise you back. 

“what are you doing?” megumi looked at you confused. 

“have you ever done a pinky promise before?” you asked him.

megumi shook his head—he hadn’t.

you explained the story of a pinky promise to him, “people make pinky promises so that they don’t break their promise—if you break your promise, you have to chop off your pinky.”

“you’re going to chop off your pinky if you break your promise to me and tsumiki?” megumi asked you with skepticism. he seems like he’s had one too many promises broken in his lifetime.

“yes—and satoru will too.” you answered back.

satoru would understand if you spoke for him. he softly intertwined his pinky with yours and you kissed your thumb to seal the deal. megumi didn't follow you on the kiss back though—it was okay, you'd get him to do it next time.

“do you and that creep pinky promise on stuff too?” megumi wondered. 

you smiled at him, “all the time.”

“on what?”

“well, satoru pinky promised me that he will be the strongest jujutsu sorcerer so that he can protect me.” you told megumi.

one day, satoru would have to tell him the story about megumi's own father and how satoru’s near-death fight with toji made him have an epiphany about his own powers. (read ‘the honored one’ here)

you looked over at satoru. he was watching you and megumi. he waved when you made eye contact with him. you winked at him and he blew you a kiss. megumi’s eyes wandered to him as well.

“so he’s the strongest?” he asked with uncertainty.

he couldn't believe that satoru gojo was the strongest. megumi thought he looked like an idiot, especially with the lack of tact he had when he first approached him and tsumiki. why couldn't you have been the one to find them instead?

“yes, he is,” you smiled brightly at your man, “—and he’ll be your sensei when you’re old enough to attend jujutsu high school.”

you thought about the conversation you had with satoru about him becoming a teacher once he finishes his third year. would megumi be okay with satoru being the one to teach him how to channel cursed energy and how to fight?

“are you strong too, (y/n)?” megumi questioned you.

“i'm the second strongest,” you looked at him intently with a promise, “—and i will protect you and tsumiki, just like satoru will.”

“why did he pinky promise that to you?” megumi changed the subject as he started to blush. he wondered why satoru promised to protect you if you were already strong enough to protect yourself. 

“well, megumi—satoru is something you call a boyfriend to me. he loves me. and well… you protect the people you love.”

“he was talking about you when he picked us up. he said you were his girlfriend. is that the same thing as a boyfriend?” 

“yes it is,” you said laughing. kids were so damn cute with their comments these days, “you might be too young to understand, but when you get bigger, you’ll find a someone you love and maybe you can be a boyfriend too.”

megumi ended up finishing his food. (y/n) 1: megumi 0. you had won the stubborn competition. he took the empty soup bowl and put it in front of you.

“can i have more soup... please?”

EXTRA:

the kids were sleeping in your room as you spent the night in satoru’s dorm room—this was how it had been for the past two weeks.

you climbed into bed as your boyfriend watched you. you sat closely next to him. he was expecting you to tell him the juicy gossip of what happened at dinner with megumi. after giving him a brief run down, he sighed.

“so, megumi is already seeing his demon dogs?” satoru asked. you scratched at the back of his undercut and tilted your head at him. 

“yes, baby, and you’re gonna have to teach him how to use them. i told him you know the hand symbols.”

“that’s fine, we can do that. the demon dogs are loyal and loving according to my sources—they would be good to have by his side.” satoru closed his eyes and sighed in bliss, he loved when you scratched his undercut. you stopped scratching as he hugged you close. 

“satoru... are you going to tell megumi about his father?” you quietly asked.

“you know—i tried telling him when i found him, but that little shit just cut me off. i told him that if he ever wanted to know about his dad, he can ask me any time.”

“you promise you’ll tell him the whole story?”

satoru intertwined his pinky with yours and kissed you firmly on the lips. 

“i pinky promise.”

© 2023 ASDFGHJKLMALS — ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. PLEASE DO NOT COPY, TRANSLATE, OR REPOST MY WORK.

DIVIDERS PROVIDED BY @/ANLIAN-AISHANG

[just-a-toast]

Book Of Bill Spoilers‼️

Rant about Bill’s Original dimension

OKAY I REALLY NEED TO TALK ABOUT THIS BECAUSE IT HASENT LEFT MY MIND

Bill’s world is COMPLETELY DOGSHIT AND OPPRESSED HIM IN EVERY WAY POSSIBLE

We know that Bill’s world is very similar to Edwin Abbott’s Flatland, as said in the Bill Cipher AMA and the picture of flatland in the book if bill on the chapter cover of his origins.

So we can assume that the same laws and way of life that exists in flatland also apply to Bill’s dimension.

First of all, Bill could be canonically adopted.

Just to give a little background, in flatland, if a shape has a son (only men are shapes, women are lines) that shape gains one side. (A square has a son, it’s a pentagon and etc). Isosceles triangles that are deemed acceptable to have kids don’t follow this rule. The isosceles triangle would correct one of its angles by a half a degree, continuing until they become an equilateral triangle. This is their whole purpose so that they can eventually have a triangle start a new line of polygons that can make circles.

In Flatland, isosceles are deemed lower in society than polygons and are less educated than polygons. So once an isosceles triangle has a equilateral child, they are IMMEDIATELY TAKEN AWAY FROM THEIR FAMILY AND PUT WITH A POLYGON FAMILY SO THEY CAN BE INTEGRATED INTO A “NORMAL” SOCIETY AND NOT CORRUPTED BY THE ISOSCELES.

Not only is Bill’s existence really rare and takes a lot of time and generations, he is immediately taken away from his family and put in a family that are higher on the social latter than him. This could EASILY lead to his family not respecting him in any way. (Really proves what Hirsch said in one of his Q&A)

Another thing that royally fucks him over is his mutation to see the third dimension

He was born with mutation that if he even TALKED about it he would be EXECUTED. A square (the protagonist of Flatland) was only sent to jail for life but since Bill is a triangle he would have easily been executed, no questions asked. The flatland government loves executing people in the book. That’s like if a person was color blind and said the sky was grey they would be killed.

So Bill’s vision is illegal, he’s the lowest on the social chain, in a family that is higher socially and could easily discriminate against him. What else could his family do?

FORCEFULLY MEDICATE HIM WITHOUT HIM KNOWING.

Yeah on the silly straw page the codes tell us that Bill when he was younger was taken to the eye doctor by his family and got a sort of prescription that made the 3rd dimension go away. We don’t know how long he didn’t know but we can assume it was for a while.

“The Doctor says Three sips a day Will make the visions Go away”

“Eye doctor of a different kind Who wants to make his patient blind”

He was literally forced to be normal.

And to get off track a little, I understand that “make his patient go blind” means ‘blind from the truth’ but what if they actually tried to make him go blind so he couldn’t see the third dimension anymore?? DO YOU REALIZE HOW FUCKED UP THAT IS?? BILL IS BASICALLY THE GYPSY ROSE OF HIS UNIVERSE

Back on track we also need to talk about how Bill DESPISED being normal.

We know that Bill is a wild person, always looking to have fun, loves the weird things in life! But in his world, everyone hated things that were not socially acceptable. In his universe, his socially assigned purpose in life was to get a family and have kids. Like I said, everyone wants to have kids in his universe that eventually become circles (the highest on the social latter). Bill would NEVER want to have such a boring and meaningless life! For his only purpose was to continue a line of oppression and meaningless things like “social status”. But his world would probably force him to have kids or else throw him in jail.

Really explains why he said no one has a purpose, and that you can make your own, because he made his own.

Also his differences caused him to possibly get bullied in school. This is implied from his description of his pyrokenesis power

There’s a bunch of reasons why he would want to destroy his dimension, But from what we know, it was completely by accident. Now we don’t know if he was lying, but from his origins page and the other evidence we know that it was at least partially on accident or something that so out of control that it destroyed his whole dimension. He wanted to prove everyone wrong by showing them the beautiful stars he saw, but ended up killing them instead.

And he regrets it.

He had SO MANY reasons to hate his dimension and destroy it without a second thought, but he misses it, misses his family, his people. They haunt him.

None of this trauma excuses anything he does in the future, but the fact that he misses such a horrible place that treated him terribly to where he literally goes insane from guilt and self hatred is truly tragic.

If anyone has anything to add to the “shitty things that happened to Bill in his universe” feel free to add!

[haveyouseenthisskeleton]

S/O drags skeleton to try a free fall simulator, so they can try being in zero-gravity once in their life. Who enjoys it?

Undertale Sans - Well, you know, when he said he always wanted to be an astronaut, he's not sure he meant that. Sans is very excited at first, but as soon as he starts floating above ground, he's not so proud anymore lol. Added to that, he's very light so he mostly spends the session bumping from one wall to the other without any control of his body. It's still fun, but he's definitely not doing that again. One time was enough. He's exhausted after that.

Undertale Papyrus - Wait, why are humans making this so difficult and without any stability when he can do it without effort, machine and with stability? As you ask him what he's talking about, so confused, Papyrus starts to walk in the air. Like that. See? He doesn't need the machine to do that, he's naturally good at it. Both you and the scientist in charge of the attraction are astonished. Not two days later, you got a call from NASA, they want to meet Papyrus.

Underswap Sans - Blue is having the time of his life, screaming and giggling uncontrollably. That's the best gift ever, he's never getting out of this thing! And by that I mean he is really NOT getting out of the thing. Good luck trying to convince him.

Underswap Papyrus - So, uh, when you said he was going to feel like he's flying, he thought it was a metaphor or something. When he realized he was actually going to fly for real, his face became so pale you got scared he passes out lol. Honey doesn't know how to say no, so he's going anyway. He clings to you for dear life the first few minutes, crying in terror, and then his body gives up to protect him and he passes out lol. You spend half an hour trying to avoid his unconscious body just floating lol.

Underfell Sans - Red did it because he's not a big crying baby. Turns out he's actually a big crying baby, as he's screaming and begging you to get down, holding your tracksuit with desperation. Since it's not working, he decides to hold on to you by biting on your shoulder, so you can't push him away. You're having an interesting time, crying in pain.

Underfell Papyrus - He's pouting, unimpressed. He wanted the red suit, you knew he wanted the red suit. But you took the red suit and now he has to wear an ugly blue suit and he's mad. It's not his color, and you ruined all of his fun. He's floating, arms crossed, ignoring you on purpose lol. That's not even fun.

Horrortale Sans - Uh, help? You saw he looked a bit constipated and you didn't understand why until you saw his red round eye float in front of you lol. Yeah. It kinda slipped through his hole and now he's completely blind and confused, having no idea what's going on anymore. Oak is too shy to ask for help so he's kinda just waiting for you to notice he's in distress.

Horrortale Papyrus - Unfortunately, the doctor can't authorize him to go with his back problems. That's ok though, he can watch from a safe distance as you're having fun. All alone. Looking sad.

Swapfell Sans - He's offended. His suit is way too big, and with all the wind, it looks like he has boobs. Nox tried to fix it, but now his entire suit is full of air and he just looks like a big blueberry, floating around with his arms and legs stretched, unable to control his movements. You're losing it, but he's not amused and pouts.

Swapfell Papyrus - Woah, look at him, he can do a triple somersault! He does a triple somersault, fails his recovery, and kicks you at full strength in the face. Oops. Uh... It's probably best if he's not telling you half of your face is swelling so big it's barely recognizable. He feels a little guilty and keeps it down for a few hours after that.

Fellswap Gold Sans - Really? You paid 250 dollars for this? You know he can do the same thing with his magic, right? What is he to you? A joke? He's offended you need a machine when he can make you fly with blue magic, and way higher than that. He's pouting the entire time, leaves a bad review on their website and calls them out for skeleton cultural appropriation on social media.

Fellswap Gold Papyrus - He screams like he's getting murdered for a solid two minutes, then he frows, confused. Uh, he's not dying? Oh, that's fine actually. He starts to actually like it after that, even if you can see his eyes panicking every time there's a pressure drop and he falls down from a few meters. In the end, it was fun! He's really excited about it and won't stop talking about that for days!

[brucewaynehater101]

So there's a fic that I think you will like. It's called The Definition of Valor by Nerdpoe. Really short, spoiler free summery. Instead of loosing his Spleen, Tim looses his eyes. He makes special gadgets to help him with this, such as a device in is cowl that scans the room he is in and tells him what is where via coded sounds, like say, two low A notes followed by a chirp means there is a wooden desk to the north east of him. He also makes a special computer program for his grapple so when he points it somewhere, it will adjust his aim so he never misses and always attaches to a good spot.

This fic is giving me *so many* thoughts about the potential fall out of this being found out not as soon as Tim gets back to Gothem because he never tells anyone. Specifically it's making me think about Tim who is Bruce's dad not telling Bruce because he doesn't want to worry his son. He doesn't want to worry his grandchildren/siblings either so he puts in colored contacts and wears glasses when his cowl isn't on. The glasses and an ear piece have the same tech as his cowl to tell him where everything is.

How long would it take them to find out? Tim would never tell them, so do they find out on accident because Tim forgot the contacts that are his normal eye color, or because Ras is mad at Tim and tells them what Ras did to Tim? Maybe he got to mad and while ranting at a Rouge (either Harley or Two Face would be especially funny if he's just been hanging upside down and ranting and raving fo 30 minuets already) over one of their traps, he accidentally lets slip that he's blind, or maybe he yells at Riddler, "Nygma, this isn't fair! I've been completely blind since last July and my usual tech that tells me what's around me is getting fucked by your signal jammer! So either read the riddle to me out loud or let me go!" and then later Riddler scolds one of the other Bats for letting the blind one do the visual puzzles much to their confusion.

Hi!!! I love that fic so much! Have you seen the sequel for it as well? It's short, but a great read. I would die for more of this concept.

In that fic, Bruce turns out to be a good dad. While I may hate Bruce, the way that guy handles the situation in that fic is fantastic.

However, I would like a fic where this concept gets a delayed reveal. In the AU, Tim figures out how to function without his eyes.

He engineers technology to read people's facial expression/body language to help him out. It reads words for him, etc.

I wonder what excuse he'd give for wearing the earpiece and glasses all the time. Maybe he says it's another aspect to separate Timothy Drake from Red Robin?

Just Tim gaslighting and girlbossing his way into pretending he can still see. I kind of want him to keep up the ruse for a long while.

When he does get found it, it'd be hilarious if the others forget he's blind. Tim has engineered technology to assist him, but he still can't see. So they'll try to take him to activities they did together when he could see (like star gazing) or they'll ask him what he thinks of the color of their outfit. He also ruthlessly uses his blindness as an excuse to mess with people. If Timothy Drake-Wayne is known to be blind, he'll use it to accuse Luthor of being ableist at every chance he'll get. He also bullies the shit out of governmental agents and companies that don't provide accommodations.

I'm also a fan of Riddler finding out about it, but him just changing his puzzles to be accommodating. I'm biased towards Riddler (I love him so much) so it'd be cool to see the silent show of support like that.

Another AU idea: When Tim blows up Ra's bases, the explosions cause him to become deaf or hard-of-hearing.

Dealer's choice on how much hearing he loses, but I feel like this could be great to explore deafness and misconceptions commonly held in our society.

Tim would probably already know how to sign and lip read (might even know multiple different sign languages), but he would face a few difficulties.

He chooses not to disclose his hearing loss

People often cover their mouths or face away from someone when speaking (which makes lip reading arduous)

Ableist people suck

The world is set up for hearing people, so a lot of issues stem from a lack of accommodations rather than Tim's ability to hear

Tim chose not to tell anyone about the change in hearing for a few reasons: he doesn't trust anyone (especially during his adjustment period) and he doesn't want to be underestimated (wants to prove himself in the field before they try to pull him from it).

As far as technology to help him, the comms were easier to program than other auditory inputs. Since they were designed to transmit clear voices, he merely has to train a program to automatically close caption whatever is spoken (the automatic ones used today are useful, but still make too many errors for Tim's preference. Some also only do words automatically and leave out helpful information like laughing, choking, screaming, computer dings, etc.). Each Bat member has their own designated color. For those he doesn't interact with often, it says their name before every time they speak up.

Tim incorporates the visual overlay into his goggles and glasses. He can read what people contribute to the conversation based on that. It also leaves his hands free so he doesn't need to look down. His wrist computer stores records of what has been said so Tim can go back over it if he misses it. He also has the ability to change where the words appear on his field of vision.

I also hc Alfred is the first to notice that Tim is staring intently at his lips when he talks and has difficulties with the conversation when Alfred changes the way he pronounces words or isn't facing Tim (this is before Tim's tech gets perfected). From then on, Alfred makes a point of facing Tim whenever the teen is in the room. They both don't talk about it until the rest of the family finds out (however long that takes).

Feel free to add more to either AU!

[wolfiesmoon]

Little reminders

Chigiri x gn!reader

guess who's writing for bllk again

turns out i kinda forgot that i'm in the bllk fandom sorry about that guys anyways want sum chigiri fluff

(man i want to write for chigiri much more in the future he's so silly and kissable to me)

"What are these?"

"Flowers, duh. Are you blind?" you didn't mean to be so sassy at the moment, but his totally confused reaction about the flowers annoyed you.

"I know they're flowers. I was asking more in a 'why are you giving them to me' sense." Chigri sassed you back, and honestly, you wouldn't have it any other way even if you were slightly offended right now.

"What? Can't I just give my princess flowers when I feel like it?" you smiled mischeviously at your choice of petname, pushing the flowers to his chest so he was forced to take them.

"Not with that petname..." he sighed, taking the flowers out of your hands. He didn't particularly take offense to you calling him that but he would have preferred a more gender neutral petname.

"Why not? You remind me of one." you imagined Chigiri in a pretty pink princess dress in your mind and giggled at the mental image.

"Why are you giggling now...? I don't recall saying or doing something funny." he looked unamused, and you have a feeling he would be even less amused if you told him what you were actually laughing about.

"Nothing, nothing." an awkward silence fell between the two of you after you said that.

When you passed by the flower shop today and saw flowers that reminded you of Chigiri, you decided to buy them impulsively.

You didn't really think much beyond that. What could you possibly continue the conversation with?

"They reminded me of you. The flowers." you blurted out without thinking, cringing at yourself instantly after doing so.

"How?" Chigiri inspected the boquet in his hands. The flowers were pretty and all, but he didn't really get how they screamed 'Chigiri Hyoma' to you. But he wanted to know. Really bad.

"How? Their color reminds me of your pretty, sparkling eyes, and the petals are all shiny and thick like your hair AND kinda remind me of your eyelashes and the leaves are so lean and 'speedy-looking' and it reminds me of how fast you run, and-"

Your mouth was suddenly being covered by a smooth finger, and you made a strange noise upon being stopped mid-sentence.

"Alright, I get it. Don't start making an entire ode to my beauty here." He says so, but his cheeks are turning pink and the blush is spreading rapidly.

"Thank you. For the flowers, and the... compliments." He smiled down at the flowers, and then shifted his gaze back to you. Now he's viewing the random gift of flowers totally differently.

"Tell me not to do it." You gently moved his hand off your mouth. God, you were holding back so hard from kissing him all over it wasn't even funny.

"Don't do it?" Chigiri answered in confusion, gripping the boquet slightly harder.

"Not convincing enough. Get ready for... KISSING ATTACK!!!" you threw yourself onto him, peppering kisses all over his pretty face.

"Ack! Hey, you're-" he didn't exactly have an opening to get a few words in, so he submitted to his fate.

Not that it was a bad one. He enjoyed it far too much.

[ladytabletop]

Do you happen to have any resources regarding accessibility in ttrpg design? About design, colours, phrasing of text or anything else that could be helpful!

I spent wayyyyy too long compiling all this - but it's important, and I appreciate you asking!!

Accessibility is a subject near and dear to my heart, and I will say up front that I'm not sure universal (aka accessible to everyone) design is possible, because people's needs can vary even within the same subset of similar disabilities (such as limited vision or blindness). BUT that doesn't mean we don't try to design for and make our games available to as many people as possible. Mismatch by Kat Holmes is a great read on design for accessibility in general, as is Invisible Women by Caroline Criado Perez. You might also check out literally anything Alice Wong has ever done.

To start, I recommend this article on the Lenses of Accessibility.

(for reference, this article is about web/graphic design, so I'm going to try and distill the most salient points for game design)

We are going to primarily focus on a few of these lenses:

Color

Font

Images & Icons

Layout

Readability

Structure

Keyboard

More details under the cut.

Color

Why does color matter? Well, for starters, there's a lot of colorblind people out there. Contrast affects readability. Autistic people and people who suffer from occular migraines might be affected by particular vivid colors. There's lots of reasons to consider color and the work it is doing in your piece, but in general you can provide a black and white, high contrast version of your game to help users.

There are tools out there to figure out if your contrast meets certain readability standards, such as this one.

Font

Dyslexia and other visual processing issues can make font choice really important. Plus, some fonts really affect readability. Additionally, line height, justification, and size of text can affect readability.

Best practice would be to provide a plain-text version of your game (and beware of "dyslexia-friendly" fonts which may or may not actually help - sticking to a basic readability font like Arial, Tahoma, or Verdana, is safest). I like this style guide for reference.

Images & Icons

For visually-impaired people, it's important to use alt-text, descriptions, and/or captions to help screenreaders properly translate images. Tons and tons of details that could go into this, but there are better people than me to describe it.

Layout

We've talked about this a bit, but there's tons of resources for this. There was recently a great writeup about Yazeba's Bed and Breakfast in terms of layout that I highly recommend.

Readability

More of the thing we've already talked about - it really is a combination of all the other lenses that comes down to readability. Audio versions of your game are always a good way to avoid the restrictions of screen readers, but can be expensive to produce.

Structure

This is tables. Tables are a nightmare for screenreaders, but including them as images can also be a problem. The short solution is "don't use tables" but that's not necessarily great for seeing people. The section in this blog is really great when talking about options for structure.

Keyboard

Debated on whether to include this, but given how many games are being read as purely digital files, I think it's important to have workable interactive elements that can be navigated through without a mouse. Some of that is going to come down to the programs being used to open your files. But if there are things you can do on your end (such as labeling form fillable fields on an interactive character sheet), they're worth doing!

Please understand that this isn't an exhaustive list. There's tons of resources out there and technology and standards are constantly changing.

It's also is important to note that even doing one of these things is helpful. You might look at this list and go "wow that's too hard" but I promise you, it's worth it. My games do not all have accessible versions! That's something I'm trying to rectify. The biggest part of that for me is thinking about accessibility from the start instead of at the end! But we can start today, and that's better than not starting.

The most important thing to remember are that disabled people are NOT a monolith - needs will differ from person to person. Accessible design makes gaming better for everyone!

Final Resources:

Accessibility in InDesign

Accessible-RPG

A11Y

Accessible Design for Teams

[fire-lizard-ro]

Could I request Argenti with a blind reader that asks to touch his face? Or maybe generally your thoughts on such a dynamic?

So I was finally able to get around to this one. It's so cute and I love it because of how Argenti is as a person but also because of the whole "beauty" thing. You'll see why in a minute.

This is going to be more of a headcanons format. Somewhat.

Reader gender is GN.

Disclaimer: This is all based on my thoughts as I have never personally known someone who was blind besides my grandmother before she passed so I don't really have anything to go on. Anything I say, I do not say to offend or by any way glorify being blind.

Writing under the cut (all SFW):

He's very understanding of it even upon your first meeting. While he feels a bit sorry because he understands life would be much harder for you, he's never looked down on you for it.

I doubt he's ever known anyone in a close capacity who was blind so there would be a bit of a learning curve for him.

Even with your struggles, he sees how you thrive and get by in life happily and he thinks it's beautiful. He thinks you're beautiful. To him, you shine and glitter as brightly as any star.

Contrary to what some might think- He is not perfect. I personally think that he would have some issues with being overprotective. Not only is he a knight, but he is your boyfriend! Your lover! He needs to be there for you as much as possible so you suffer no inconveniences or injury.

But you sit him down to explain to him that while you appreciate the gesture and his intentions... You don't like being treated like glass. It makes you feel less autonomous and it can feel condescending even if he didn't mean it that way.

He becomes much more knowledgable about your feelings and begins to understand how his actions can make you feel. And so he kneels in front of you where you're seated to apologize and kiss the back of your hand before bringing it to his face to lean into it after kissing your palm. Then he'd lean in to kiss you properly and whisper against your lips, asking you to teach him how to best help you. How to make things easier for you without being overbearing because all he wants is for your days to be full of joy and without hardship.

I can imagine how he guides you gently while out and about. OTL

Onto other things-

His deep understanding of beauty strikes again. He finds beauty in how, despite your struggles and limitations, you continue to live your life to the fullest. He admires that strength and thinks that you have good willpower. That strength of will is something any knight should have.

When came the day that you asked him to feel his face to get an understanding for what he looks like, he was delighted. He enjoyed when you gently took his face into your hands and ran them delicately over the planes and slopes of his face and told him he was beautiful. He somehow enjoyed your compliment more than anyone else's.

He always describes things around to you and even diligently studied to get better with words for that. He also did it befcause he'd like to show you other beautiful things since you couldn't see the sights he had through poetry. Sap. I hate him (affectionate).

Though he understood before that beauty was not just what you could see with your eyes, he finds deeper understanding the longer he is with you. It's in your every movement, sure of the world around you despite having not the sight to see it all. It's in your every word and in your every breath. It's in your very being.

It's especially in your understanding of what beauty was when one of your senses was not available to you, the one that most people use to judge beauty on. It's oddly in line with his ideals of beauty- I mean, come on. He was calling a plant, a regular degular plany with only green to color it, beautiful.

All in all, it's a beautiful (ha) relationship and the two of you are well suited to one another. Your chivalrous knight and his sweet lover.

Aaaaa~ Thank you so much for the request! It was super fun. :D

Feel free to send another on in if you wanna. I'm going to be working on the requests I haven't finished yet this weekend~

Apologies for any typos or hard to understand writing. I'll fix it tomorrey probably. >:D

[shego1142]

Okay so… I don’t really want to make this post, mostly because I feel like I’m always the one wearing tin foil hats on tumblr

But listen… I understand being upset and sad and afraid right now

But yall some of these posts are going beyond doomerism

Some of these posts

A lot of these posts, actually

Look quite a bit like demoralisation

So many of these posts I’ve seen look very much like purposeful targeted demoralisation

And I do hope everyone can understand very quickly how bad demoralising people right now is.

I do hope everyone can very quickly understand just how much people in power stand to gain from demoralising us.

I mean, you know, not that I’m saying that there’s a psyop taking place on the website that has routinely had multiple proven right wing/conservative/white supremacist psyops take place or anything

You know, that would be bonkers.

But all of these blogs out here saying that everything is hopeless and nothing will ever get better and we are all doomed and we should just tear each other apart and play the blame game?

That’s a little fishy.

Especially given that now more than ever is a time to stand with one another and hold on to hope and start organising together.

All of these blogs just blind faith accepting the election results as they are and not even considering any bad acting is at play? Just rolling over without any hint of a fight and implying that everyone else has to as well?

That’s a little fishy.

Especially given that:

The election results are not certified until December 25th and the House and Senate do have the power to object to the electoral college votes (especially if enough pressure is put on them to do so)

Especially given that it took a long time before we were sure who won in the last presidential race and it looked like Trump had won that first week back then too

Especially given that Kamala Harris’ Concession speech is not legally binding, and if it is found out between now and December 25th that she has won, then that will still be considered a legal win.

Especially given that many states, including battleground states, are already doing a recount and many more states are presumed to follow (So far Pennsylvania, Wisconsin, Nevada are recounting the ballots and Arizona and Texas are considering)

Especially given that there has already been proven minimal forms of tampering with the election process including multiple burnt absentee ballot boxes, bomb threats at polling places, as well as just plain human error whether malicious or benign.

So… you know… anyone posting on here saying that hope is dead and that we should all hate each other and everyone should just fuck off and stop caring about everything and stop supporting each other?

That seems a little bit fishy, doesn’t it?

That seems a little bit fucking sus, doesn’t it?!

Especially given that, even after all is said and done, even if he 100% did win and there’s no doubt that it’s legitimate

He’s still being sued for multiple charges and violations of conduct, he could still end up in jail

Especially since even if he doesn’t, even if he is sitting as acting president one January:

We have 2 and 1/2 months to mobilise

2 and 1/2 months to organise

Sure would be convenient for Trump and the 1% and the right wing pundits to make everyone feel like everything is hopeless and tragic and to pit leftist against democrats and what not

Sure would be useful to them if we were all just sad and hateful to each other these next coming months

Like I’ve seen many posts tying to do.

You can feel your feelings but if you start advocating for us to attack one another, for women to fight and hate leftist men who voted for Kamala, for black people to fight and hate other people of color, for leftists to hate democrats for not “going far enough” and for democrats to hate leftists for “going too far”

And all this bullshit in-fighting

I’m just going to assume you’re a bad actor and block you

This isn’t the time for the blame game, there’s no fucking one to blame other than Trump and most likely Elon Musk’s money.

Now isn’t the time to give a shit about why the election results are what they are.

Now is a time to stand together, united, to make our communities better, safer, sanctuaries.

Now is the time to talk to one another, to not strive for perfection but for safety.

Call your representatives

Get your passport

Print out as many copies of books (especially banned ones) as possible and fill your local little libraries with them, fill it with zines about community building too,

Check out these links:

Talk to the queers and the people of colour and the disabled people in your community

Book a meeting room in your local library

Talk to your librarians, talk to your teachers and health care workers

Talk to your local conservationists.

Don’t just talk to leftist spaces either, remember:

There is Power in Making Friends, Not Winning Battles - reach out to your community and find out what the real issues are, it’s very rarely actually just hate, it’s usually fear and poverty.

Do nice things for your community in the name of Queerness - in some places you can adopt a road and make it beautiful, so this with a group of queer friends and get a plaque that says “This Road Was Adopted by The Queer Community”

Get together with your minority friends and figure out how to open a soup kitchen (easiest than you think and registering as a non profit is actually a great way to stay safe for many reasons)

Have your community see you as a part of it, not a threat to it.

Speak at schools

Fundraiser for the library

If you’re included to do so, you could partner with different religious groups as well, especially since there are in fact religious groups that are inclusive and welcoming and supportive.

Make your community know that the “threat” of the “lgbtqia” is non-existent

Don’t make yourself less queer, less a person of colour, less disabled, etc, don’t fade into the background

Become a shining beacon of positivity and goodness that everyone in your community can see as an asset to the community.

Give back more than you e ever gotten.

I know how difficult that can be but trust me, it will be worth it. Work with the leaders in your community to lobby for more rights just in your town and then you can lobby for more rights in your state.

Just like how many states have now said that if Trump tries to do mass deportations they will stop him, work to create that solidarity within your own communities.

Do not sit quietly in fear doing and saying nothing but hopeless things for the next two months.

Do not let anyone convince you that it’s over.

Do not become another statistic.