#i mean i still love the art and will continue to post but the eye patch should be there

[mysweetsinfulobsessions]

This doesn’t feel like my place to say, but I’ve noticed a lot of new art since Arcane ended does not feature Caitlyn with her eye patch.

She lost an eye, and she has a disability. This is canon guys. It’s part of her character. It’s not a trait one can choose to ignore (and yet it seems many do).

Why are people still drawing her with both eyes?

[beeholyshit]

"The Moon looks beautiful tonight doesn't It....?"

[ohodie]

SECOND THAT

luke castellan x reader

★ “i’m restless, i’m wrestling with the song that you love, it’s been stuck in my head”

ABOUT - luke castellan is the only one at camp who sees right through your perfect and poised persona; and all he wants is the satisfaction of ruining it.

WARNINGS - smut, mentions of choking, both the reader and luke are TERRIBLE but luke is much worse lol, swearing, written from the perspective of a deranged luke, penetration, only loosely proofread.

A/N- i have NEVER written and posted smut before EVER. like i get close but i never go all out. so… no hate guys 😘 also i feel like this is a bit ooc for luke so just pretend he’s actually insane and terrible guys!!! if you ignore his incoherent ramblings, it’s PWOP sooo… anyways this might be the first and last time i ever write smut who knows

luke castellan is no amateur when it comes to pretending to be something else. growing up, the only thing that mattered to luke was receiving praise or recognition for being ‘great’ or ‘honourable’ or whatever.

when you live your whole life pretending to be a perfect person, you kinda start to believe you really are a perfect person.

and if everyone you meet also believes you are indeed a perfect person, what’s the harm in continuing to pretend?

at the end of the day, both parties gain something. you get the validation and acclaim that you truly deserve, and they get a role model they aspire to at least halfway resemble.

luke is the sweetest guy at camp- everyone loves him. and he deserves it, doesn’t he? he deserves their praise and love and respect. gods, he should be rewarded for pretending to be so admirable for so long. he’s entitled to it.

you, on the other hand? you don’t. you don’t deserve an ounce of the praise luke has worked so hard to receive.

to luke, you’re vermin. behind your polite smiles and sweet words, there’s darkness. there’s an evil lurking within you- he’s sure of it.

he sees it during early morning sparring sessions, watching from the wings while you tactfully dodge every attack that comes your way. and when you eventually falter, he sees how your eyes turn cold and your smile fades.

he sees how you take a shaky breath, brushing yourself off with your bony hands before flashing a toothy grin. he feels nauseous when you extend your arm out to shake the hand of your opponent- because how the fuck can they believe your little act?

your gentle kindness and bashful charisma is so obviously fake. of course, he’s not pissed that you’re acting; everyone at camp is acting to an extent. but you’re going all out, and he can still see through it. what pisses him off, is that nobody else seems to recognise how truly malicious you can be.

maybe it’s because you’re pretty. luke is no stranger to getting special treatment based on his appearance, and neither should you be. maybe that’s the whole basis of your appeal. it seems to be the only thing holding your pathetic little facade together, considering your sloppy acting skills.

if you were ugly everyone would be able to call out your bullshit straight away, and then he wouldn’t have to worry about sharing the spotlight. honestly, the only reason why everyone loves you so much is because half of them want to fuck you, and the other half want your attention or approval- not that it’d be worth anything.

it was the last week of spring, meaning only the year-rounders and a few of the older kids were at camp. you just graduated high school, and arrived at camp early.

of course, you just had to return to camp prettier, taller, more confident, and with a fancy college acceptance letter. maybe you were much smarter than you let on- but it became very apparent that your intelligence wasn’t the reason you got accepted into NYU once he learned what you were studying.

“oh, i’m getting a degree in art history,”

seriously? art history? that’s gotta be the funniest thing luke has ever heard in his entire life.

“really? why art history?” he asks politely, watching your every move as he awaits your dumbass explanation.

you shrug cheerfully, looking around at the few other campers scattered around in a tight-knit circle as they wait for you to tell them about your ‘lovely’ 18th birthday and ‘eventful’ senior year.

“i don’t know, my mum works with a lot of artists, so she said it’d be a good conversation starter,” you say cheerfully, as if it wasn’t the stupidest thing to ever exit your mouth.

luke can’t help but let out a little giggle, before instantly lowering his head to offer some non-verbal apology. but to his surprise, you laugh along. “yeah, i really wanna score a job at the MET or something. i don’t mind either way,”

luke nods politely, letting the conversation continue without interrupting with a snide comment or unsolicited laughter.

he plays along as the conversation continues, pretending he doesn’t want to grab you by the throat and push you against the wall, demanding you to confess. demanding you to tell the fucking truth; that you’re a manipulative sycophant who’s bound to end up in rehab for getting addicted to designer drugs.

why is he the only one that sees you for who you truly are? gods, if he knew any better he might be charmed. you were naturally picturesque- or at least you seemed to be. the way that you were sitting on the grass with your hair draping over your body; you looked gorgeous. but you always look gorgeous, that’s your best quality after all.

of course all of camp half-blood was fooled- you were to pretty and kind to be lying. maybe it was better to let them keep on believing that you were this perfect image of a girl.

but he’d still appreciate the satisfaction of seeing you for who you are- seeing you in your rawest form.

and then suddenly, he saw it. some athena girl asked you if you wanted to go on a run with her later, to which you politely declined. of course, you kept your composure, told her that you had to take a nap, offered her a sympathetic smile and a ‘maybe next time’. but she didn’t see the way your eyes rolled to the back of your head as soon as she looked away.

luke was astonished. you really were getting sloppy, huh?

and yet, nobody else saw it. nobody else saw the look of disgust on your face as soon as she finished talking. he was seething- how on earth could everyone be so blind?

luke looks around at the group of people surrounding him, his eyes darting back to you ever 5 or 10 seconds. they all look at you with awe- as if you’re the most precious thing on earth.

fuck that. he was going to put you in your place.

a few hours pass, and it was finally time for everyone to walk back to their cabins.

luke spots you walking alone to your cabin, your face dimly lit by the moon as it shines over the camp. he’s so overwhelmed with anger, he couldn’t fathom caring about the consequences of whatever situation he was about to put himself in.

he quickly catches up to you, meeting your walking pace as he shoots you a friendly smile.

“hey, y/n. you got a minute?” luke asks, still adorning that charming smile. you smile back at him, nodding your head ever so gently, as if it would fall off if you moved it too fast. like a rusty elvis bobble head bought 1976 that resides on the dash of your grandmother’s busted car.

“yeah, why?” you hold your hands behind your back as you walk beside him, slowly approaching your empty cabin. luke shrugs his shoulders. “oh, i just had a little question. mind if we talk in your cabin?” he asks.

you nod, opening the door for luke and letting him walk through. you close the door behind him, before leaning your back against the wall. luke stands in front of you, his cheery demeanour vanishing as he crosses his arms.

“why the fuck are you such a little bitch all the time?”

you furrow your brows, mirroring his posture as you cross your arms defensively. “excuse me?”

luke rolls his eyes, letting out dry laughter as he looks you up and down. “you heard me,” he adds, watching you anxiously begin to pick at your lips with your freshly manicured fingernails.

“do you have a problem with me or something?” your whole body feels tense as you continue picking at your lips, your eyes locked onto his.

“yeah, i do have a problem. i’m tired of your little ‘nice girl’ act. it’s getting fucking annoying,” luke scoffed, taking a step closer towards you. your eyes darken, before shaking away your hostile expression.

“are you sure you wanna do this right now, castellan?”

“is that a threat?”

you pull your fingertips away from your lips, shifting your weight to the other side of your body as you cross your arms once more. you let silence fill the room before finally speaking up.

“listen, luke. everyone pretends to be someone they’re not. you and i just tend to do it more than others-“

luke cuts your off, taking another step forwards. “fuck off, we are not the same.”

you roll your eyes, banging your head against the wall as you groan irritably. “so what? are you gonna go around spreading cheap lies about me now?” you ask tiredly. luke shakes his head, slightly shrugging his shoulders.

“nah.” he replies curtly, his voice blunt and expression vague. “mkay, then what the fuck is your problem?”

luke takes another quick step forward, tightly holding your chin in his hand as he lifts your head to face him. “you’re my fucking problem.”

you let out a dry laugh, staring into his eyes as you attempt to intimidate him. “you’re such a loser.” you whisper, refusing to fight back against the way he’s gripping your face.

he stays silent, biting his lip as he looks over your form. “and you’re a brat.” he retorts.

“are we just going to keep throwing insults back and forth all night, or are you gonna explain why you’re so obsessed with me?” you ask playfully, cupping his face in your hand as an attempt to patronise him.

luke is stumped. to be fair, he is entirely obsessed with you. and he has been for years now. and now he has you cornered, watching your weak attempts at asserting dominance over him.

luke was over it.

suddenly, luke leans in, harshly pressing his lips against yours. you retract your hand from his face, pressing it against the wall as you feel his body moving towards you.

he wraps his other hand around your neck, only gently gripping it as to not alarm you.

luke is surprised by how you sink into his grip, pulling away to see your closed eyes and swollen lips. when you wipe your mouth and look at him with those hauntingly innocent eyes, he’s almost fooled.

you scoff, smirking as you tear away from his grip and take a few steps back. “is that all you wanted?” you say confidently, watching him turn around to watch you carefully pace around the room.

he shakes his head, groaning quietly as he walks over to you once more.

luke purses his lips, trying to suppress any sense of genuine attraction to you. but when his eyes gaze over to your red lips and flushed cheeks, he can’t help but let his mind wander.

“if you’re done, you can leave, castellan.” you say irritably, leaning against your bed frame.

it goes straight to his dick when you call him that, especially when your voice sounds so hoarse and cocky. he feels as though he’s finally accomplished what he’s been yearning to do for years now. he’s seeing the real you.

he couldn’t dare squander this opportunity now.

he pushes you down onto your bed, watching how your hair flows over your newly made bedsheets as your head hits the pillow.

“but you don’t want me to leave, do you?” luke says lowly, hovering over your body as his hand hold your wrists together above your head.

“i don’t care what you do, castellan.”

luke groans, pressing another rough kiss against your lips. you kiss back for whatever reason, and your firsts relax within his grip. it was almost as if you got off on the idea of someone calling out your bullshit. or maybe you got off on the idea of somewhat hating your guts. either way, luke knew you were more than eager to continue.

he let go of your wrists, before biting your bottom lip. your mouth opens slightly, offering entry to his tongue, deepening the kiss.

you hand cups his face, while the other grips his shoulder. after a few moments, he pulls away and begins sucking at the skin of your neck, leaving purple marks on your delicate skin while you let out hoarse whimpers.

his hands begin to fiddle with the fabric of your shirt, causing you to push his body forwards as you position yourself to sit on his lap. you take off your shirt, throwing it away as you run your hands down his back.

luke looks down at your chest, growing more aroused at the sight of your lacy little bra. it’s as if you knew someone was going to see it.

you feel a hardness growing from under his jeans, poking against your upper thigh as you slowly grind against his lap. luke let’s put a low moan, continuing to bury his face in your neck.

“i fucking hate you,” he growls, gripping the sides of your waist with his hands as you move against him.

“don’t care, take off your shirt,” you demand hurriedly, running your fingers through his hair as you tilt his head up to look at you.

luke rolls his eyes, before taking off his shirt. he quickly presses another series of harsh kissses against your neck, fiddling with the clasp of your bra as you push your chest up against his. you giggle softly at his incompetence, before he finally unhooks it and ravenously pulls it from your chest.

luke pushes your body backwards onto the bed, trailing kisses down from your neck and onto your tits. you let out a quiet moan, before biting down onto your hand in order to stifle the sound. his large hands knead your left breast, while the other grips the area just under your right breast, resting on top of your ribcage.

luke’s hands slowly move downwards, hip thumb tracing circles against the side of your hip as you gently grasp onto his hair. his fingertips gently pull down your shorts, leaving you in only your underwear.

he rubs his thumb over the wet fabric, before tilting his head to look up at you. “pathetic,” he mutters, smirking at your flushed faced. you groan, burying the back of your head further into the pillow as your back arches involuntarily.

luke’s thumb massages your clit from over the soaking fabric, watching you squirm in response. he lets out a dry laugh, before pulling down your panties and tossing them onto the floor.

“luke…” you moan quietly, closing your eyes as your hips jerk into the mattress. his fingers trace your wet folds, before letting his thumb rub circles against your clit and forcing two fingers inside of you.

you whimper before pursing your lips, rolling your head around as he slowly pumps his fingers in and out. he quickens his pace, pressing down harshly against your clit while beginning to suck on the skin of your upper thigh.

luke holds down your hip with his free hand as you begin to squirm.

suddenly, he stops.

you look at him with a confused expression, your face red as he pulls his fingers out. he chuckles at your disappointed face, before taking off his pants and boxers. you stare at his length unashamedly, biting down on your bottom lip.

“so fucking needy.” he says lowly, his voice horse as he softly begins to continue massaging your clit. you moan, feeling your back arch as he positions himself in front of your legs. he forcefully spreads them open as he teases your folds with the tip of his erect member.

you let out a little whine, your voice trembling as you try to move your hips against his length.

luke rolls his eyes at your poor attempts at penetration, before slowly pushing his cock into your entrance. you let out a breathy, high pitched moan, your hands eagerly gripping your bedsheets.

he gradually pushes in the entirety his length, continuing to rub circles into your clit. luke tightly grips your waist as he begins to slowly pull out, before jamming himself back in. you let out a breathy yelp as you body moves with his thrusts.

like continues relentlessly pushing in and out of you, massaging your waist as his thumb gradually increases the speed of its attack on your clit.

you try to steady you breathing, your face flushed as lukewarm continues to deliberately overwhelm your body.

“mm… luke, i’m gonna…” you mutter, your hips jerking upwards. he smiles at you, amused by how blissed out you look taking his cock. “so soon?” he teases, rapidly moving against your body.

you let out a stammering series of whimpers as your back arches upwards, feeing yourself suddenly release. luke grins, continuing to rub circles into your clit as he rides out your orgasm.

luke slowly retracts his thumb, repositioning the hand to gently grip your hip. he begins to slow down his movements, before quickly thrusting into you repetitively. you squirm, the movements of your hips constrained by his grip.

suddenly, he pulls out, releasing onto your stomach. see? he was a gentleman.

luke gazes over at the girl he just reduced to a panting mess as he stands up and puts his clothes back on. he smiles at you as he zips up his jeans, before kneeling besides you as you turn your head to look at him.

“i wont tell anyone how fucking pathetic you are, don’t worry, princess.”

you nod, staring at him as he continues to look at your defenceless body. “such a pretty girl,” he hums, cupping your face in his hand before kissing your forehead.

he reaches over to your discarded underwear and gently pulls them up your legs, the gesture acting somewhat as a peace offering. he takes a step back, simply taking in how endearingly stupid you look.

you slowly sit yourself up, grabbing your camp t shirt and putting it on. “goodnight, luke,” you choke out, your voice hoarse and breathing shallow. he nods, smiling softly as he turns to walk away. “night, princess.”

[jobean12-blog]

A Stolen Moment

Pairing: Marcus Acacius x female reader

Word Count: 1.6K

Summary: The General has been busy as of late and you miss him.

Author's Note: I can't exist without being horny over this man...they post a new picture of him sitting down and I'm like OH WELL- now I need to sit in his lap, kneel between his legs and do all these other filthy things because his legs and hands and thighs exist. UGH. I mean how am I supposed to survive this, he can't even sit in a chair without me losing my mind...guess I have to write out the horny. LOL anyway, thanks for listening to my rants and thanks so much for reading, much love always! ❤️❤️❤️Divider by the lovely @firefly-graphics thank you sweet Daisy! 🥰

Warnigns: soft sweetness, tension, teasing, semi-public sex (I mean it is the Colosseum), Marcus is perfection.

Marcus Acacius Masterlist

The rare quiet of the arena is almost unsettling, the usual raucous crowd nonexistent and the commanding power it exudes masked under the veil of darkness that slowly settles with the descending sun.

The imperial box is empty and the gilded seat on which you sit grows cold as you wait. The fabric you wear is different from anything you’ve ever worn before and perhaps different from anything that’s been created yet.

Due to tradition, you’ve been trained in the art of sewing and because of this you were able to make the silk garment that’s currently draped seductively over your body. You know your husband will approve, however, how he will react to you wearing it in such a public place, is an entirely different story.

The silk is layered, giving the illusion of coverage, but even in the dimness of the setting sun, you can see the outline of what teases beneath.

Heavy footsteps echo behind you, and you recognize the steady pace of his feet.

He walks slowly up the steps, dressed in his more formal toga, outlined in gold that glints as it catches the dying light.

His eyes find you and he stops.

“My gods wife.”

A heated smile starts at the corner of his mouth and lazily stretches across the other as he peruses you from head to toe.

“I’m not forgetting some celebration today am I?”

You shake your head and stand, walking over to him.

“No, nothing to celebrate today. Just you.”

He stills, his eyes lowering to sweep down your body. “Me?”

“Yes,” you say. “You’ve been too stressed lately. I want to help.”

“I see,” he says with sparkling eyes. “And you thought displaying yourself…so… temptingly… in one of the most coveted seats of the Colosseum was going to help?”

You run your hands up his chest to the buckle near his left shoulder. Loosening it, you continue, “I know how to best help you relax General and I knew this would get your attention.”

“You always have my full attention,” he whispers.

You smile, knowing the truth his words hold.

He looks you over again then reaches up to drag the calloused pad of his thumb over your bottom lip.

Normally you might kiss it. Tonight, you bite down. He pulls back with a little gasp.

“You’re irresistible.”         

His hands slide forward and frame your hips, and he pulls you into his chest, running his nose along your neck with an inhale.

“What do you plan to do with me?” he whispers into your skin.

You push his hands away and slide off his cloak.

“I’m glad you asked.”

Your fingers fall to his belt, and you start to loosen it, remaining silent.

“Well?” he asks with an amused smile.

“Whatever I want,” you say simply, your hands deftly pulling the belt from his waist.

“I suppose I’m at your mercy then.”

With a tilt of your head, you step back. “Take off your tunic.”

He holds your gaze, testing your restraint, before he relents and gives you what you want.

Slowly, he pulls the fabric off, and you struggle to keep your attention on his face, knowing that every inch of the skin he’s revealing will distract you.

When he begins to loosen the fabric at his hips you’re unable to resist reaching forward and running your hands lightly down his chest. His breath hitches and you love it, skin tightening beneath your fingertips.

He toys with the material again, and you can tell he’s teasing you, waiting for you to meet his eyes.

“Keep going,” you tell him.

The undergarment falls to his feet and it’s all you can do to not slide down to your knees and take him into your mouth.

But somehow, you manage to resist, even as he reaches down, circles his large hand around his cock and holds it out as an offering.

When he starts to remove the first of his wrist cuffs, you still his hand. He raises a questioning brow, and you demurely smile.

“Leave those.”

You push lightly on his chest, toward the ornate chair he found you in. “Sit.”

He does as you say, and you follow him, straddling his thick thighs.

“I miss my husband,” you say with a pout. “You’ve been busy, and your attention has been elsewhere lately.”

You see his expression soften at your words before the corners of his mouth turn down.

“You know you’re all that matters…”

You press a finger to his lips to silence him.

“I’m not blaming you General. I’m just taking matters into my own hands…taking what I want.”  

You rest your ass on his thighs and then slide forward, giving his cock the briefest bit of friction against you before you move away again.

Beneath your palms, his shoulders bunch and he lifts his hands to touch you.

“Don’t,” you warn. “Or I’ll bind you.”

“Does it make you wet to take control like this my beloved?” he whispers.

You answer with the slide of your hand between your legs, the slip of your fingers under the silk. Your eyes close and you moan quietly as you touch yourself, rolling your hips.

You can hear his breath hitch and feel the muscles of his thighs flex and strain. Pulling your fingers away, you capture his chin with your free hand and paint a wet line along his upper lip.

He groans, pained and gravelly and you look down to see his cock hard and arching up toward his belly button.

Your mouth waters. “Marcus.”

He hums but doesn’t move and you look up to see him lick his lips, tasting you on his skin. Staring intently at you, he pushes his hips up, his cock a heavy presence between you as you gaze at his face.

“Are you feeling more relaxed?” you ask him as you lean forward and kiss his jaw.

“Tortured, might be a better word my love.”

You can see it in the way his pulse flutters in his throat and you press a steady hand to his chest.

He relaxes in pieces: his legs beneath you first, then his abdomen, shoulders and finally his expression.

“That’s better,” you murmur.

With a deep exhale he lifts his hands, the gesture tentative as he slowly reaches for your shoulder and traces the soft curve with his fingertips.

“I think it’s time I take what I want,” you remind him.

You lean forward and kiss along his neck all the way up to his ear and he huffs out an impatient breath. Every muscle grows tight and urgent beneath your roaming hands as you tease him once more.

Faster than you expect, he grabs you by the hips and jerks you forward, sliding the wetness between your legs over his cock and griding up into you with a groan.

Without thinking, you move with him, rocking on top and feeling the hard press of him against your clit.

“I can feel your need for me soaked through the silk,” he hisses.

You tug the silk fabric from your body and let it drape over the large and elaborate seat. In a blur, he pulls you closer and pushes inside you with a steady, hard thrust.

“I’m sorry,” he begins, then stops, his breath choppy so close to your ear as he kisses your neck and sucks gently. “I can’t control myself.”

You open your mouth to speak but all the comes out is a moan when his large hand cups your breast, thumb passing back and forth over the peak.

His tongue slides over your collarbone, his breath, his fingertips across your skin and he begins to move inside you.

“You tease and taunt me wife…it’s impossible for me to let you play out this fantasy of control.”

A curl falls over his forehead and he looks almost boyish, but his words are coarse, and his movements are powerful.

“Next time I will bind you then,” you say, the words breathless.

He growls out your name, digging his fingers into your skin with his barely controlled restraint.

You feel the rush of blood to your legs and the heavy ache between your thighs build and he grows more and more frantic. He uses your hips for leverage, his grip bruising as he slams up and into you over and over.

One large, rough hand ghosts along your stomach and teases the base of your neck before his fingers close around your throat.

This new sensation brings you to the edge until you’re begging for it. His groan vibrates along your skin, his whispered words of love pushing you over until you tighten around his cock and cry out his name.

Your face falls to the crook of his neck, and he wraps his arms around you, cradling you to his chest. Your heavy breathing is in sync, your sweaty skin pressed close while he gently runs his fingers along the curve of your spine.

“I am sorry,” he whispers into your skin. “I know there has been much that keeps me away from you as of late.”

You lift your face and place your palm against his cheek. Your fingertips trace the lines around his eyes before you dip your head and softly kiss his cheek, then the corner of his mouth, and finally his lips.

“I know Marcus. I know.”

He reaches his hands between your arms and frames your face, holding your gaze intently with the soft brush of his fingers.

“My love for you remains and always will be as infinite as the stars.”

[iholdwhatican]

tension

part two to reunions - must read part 1 first!

pairing: art donaldson x reader x patrick zweig

length: 3.2k

author's note: this took wayyyy too long for me to do yall, i'm so sorry. these two have a tight hold on me and i'm in the trenches. i've got some good stuff lined up tho, and i'm super excited to write it heeheehee :) also smut in the future will be much longer and much more detailed, just fyi

tags: y/n is art donaldson's wife ; birthday party ; art is down bad ; patrick wants y/n ; possessive!art ; the boys are fighting ; no use of y/n ; pining ; sexual tension ; sugar mommy y/n? ; unapologetic flirting with your bff's wife at his birthday party

warnings: sexual content, p in v, not super detailed but still there!

summary: the stressful night of the birthday party continues, and you find yourself pinging between art and patrick like a tennis ball. how the hell did you get yourself into this?

originally posted by iholdwhatican

It took four minutes and 36 seconds of Art and Patrick being alone outside before the anxiety became too much. Your dress was too tight against your skin and the chatter of the guests rattled in your skull. Your mind replayed the anger on Art’s face over and over, convinced that he’d direct it at you the moment he came back in. And if you were being honest, you couldn’t stop thinking about that kiss. 

Your blood boiled with the ferocity of it, and an ache in your core begged for another taste. 

Another three minutes and 18 seconds passed while you downed half of your second glass of wine. You made conversation with a few people who caught your eye, making sure all the food and drink were up to par. Not that you really could care about that right now. Your mind was a jumble of thoughts about the two men on the balcony. 

Art, Patrick, Art, Patrick, Art, Patrick, Art, Patrick

“You look like you’re gonna puke.” 

For the second time that night, Patrick Zweig’s voice made you jump. 

You looked at him, catching sight of that damned smirk that made your stomach flip, and furrowed your brows. One quick scan of the room came up empty for your husband, forcing the anxiety in your chest to worsen. 

“Where’s Art?” You asked, not missing the way your voice wobbled slightly. 

“Relax.” Patrick responded, resting a hand on your shoulder, “He went to the kitchen, I think. I didn’t kill him. And he didn’t run for the hills either.” 

You decided not to comment on how easily he’d read your worries without you saying anything. For some reason, you were an open book to him. 

A deep sigh left you. You licked your lips anxiously- which immediately caused Patrick’s eyes to fall on your mouth. 

“What happened out there?” 

The man gave you a shrug, letting his hand fall back to his side, “Nothing, really. We just talked for a bit. He told me I could stay, as long as I stopped flirting with you.” 

“So does that mean you’re going to stop?” The idea made you slightly unhappy, which in turn filled you with guilt. Why were you so excited by his flirtations when you had a wonderful, loving husband who treated you like a queen? 

But then Patrick grinned, and you knew the answer before he said it, “Well, I’ve never been one to do what I’m told.” 

A smile grew over your lips, and you tried to hide it with an eye roll, “Why don’t you mingle? Try some food. I’m going to find my husband.” 

He didn’t miss the enunciation you put on ‘my husband’, and you didn’t miss the way his eyes darkened as you said it. You didn’t give it time to linger, instead turning away and moving towards the kitchen. 

You knew the look Patrick had in his eyes. You’d seen it a dozen times in Art’s. On the court, over a board game, in all sorts of scenarios. And every time, even now, the look sent a chill down your spine. 

That expression was clear, resolute competition. 

Just as Patrick had said, you found Art in the kitchen. With his back to you, you had a perfect view of his tense shoulders and hanging head as he poured himself a glass of water. He was all wound up, and you knew it was your fault. Now it was your responsibility to fix it. 

You stepped up behind him, sliding a hand between his shoulder blades. He didn’t hesitate to lean into the touch, a subconscious reaction. He knew it was you just by the feel of your hand on him. And, even if he might be furious, he still found comfort in it. 

“Hey…” You breathed, leaning to the side to meet his gaze. Art looked at you over his shoulder, a half-smile quirking his lips up, “How are you doing?” 

“Hey.” He responded, turning and sliding his hands over your hips. Your chest pressed against his as he leaned down and placed a kiss on your hairline. Then he just lingered there, breathing in your smell, “I honestly don’t know. I just- it was so weird to see him.” 

“Yeah, of course it was.” Your words reached him in a soft, comforting tone. The guilt of putting your perfect, doting husband in this situation was enough to make you feel like you had barbed wire around your neck. You had to pay penance- somehow. You rubbed your hand in circles over his back, “I’m sorry, sundrop. I don’t know what I was thinking when I invited him.” 

Sundrop. A nickname that went way back to the early days of your relationship. Art was an energetic puppy dog with a halo of golden curls and a smile that made your insides feel hot. He was what you pictured a personification of the sun to be, hence the pet name. He pretended not to like it, but his eyes always sparkled a certain way when you said it. 

Art pulled his head away to peer down into your eyes, his own pensive and confused, “No, baby, don’t be sorry. It was a great fucking surprise. Just… a surprise.” 

You shook your head. He was so fucking good to you, “You’re allowed to be mad at me.” 

“Mad? At you?” In one quick motion, he picked you up and set you on the counter. Your legs opened for him without hesitation, allowing him to slot right in between them, “I don’t think that’s possible.”

You fought the blush rising in your cheeks and rolled your eyes, “You think too highly of me.” 

“No. Never.” He replied instantly. He kissed your chin. Then your jaw. Then your neck. Then down your throat, “As far as I’m concerned, you’re God.” 

“Art-” You argued, though you weren’t sure what for. You tilted your neck back and offered yourself up to him. 

“I could spend my life on my knees for you and be happy.” His words were muffled as he mouthed at your neck, sending shivers down your spine. This, combined with the kiss from earlier, was making you ache with need. You were half-tempted to end the party early and take your pretty husband to bed. 

You bit your lip when he ran his tongue over a sensitive spot above your collarbone. If he wasn’t in between them, you’d be squeezing your thighs together. 

When Art pulled away, his eyes had darkened. Dilated pupils and heavy breaths told you all you needed to know. He was just as fucking horny as you were right now. His hands held your hips tighter. 

“Do you think we’d be left alone long enough for me to show you how much I mean it?” He asked. It was almost as if he were begging. As if he couldn’t bear the idea of doing anything other than dropping to his knees and devouring you. 

And God, when he looked at you like that, you had no choice but to say yes. 

Unfortunately, fate intervened, and you were kept from making a scene at your husband’s birthday party. 

“Hey, you two, quit snogging and come entertain us!” One of Art’s tennis friends called, sticking their head into the kitchen. The big grin on their face told you it was just teasing, but you still felt your face burning with embarrassment. 

“It’s my birthday, let me do what I want.” Art jeered right back, lifting you off the counter and back onto your own two feet. You laughed airily at the comment, feeling more light-headed than anything. 

Before following his friend back into the action, he whispered a quick, “Later, okay?” to you. And then he left you standing in the kitchen- touch-starved, foggy-headed, and excruciatingly aroused. 

It was then that you realized you didn’t even get to ask him what happened with Patrick.

Upon re-entering the party, you found yourself taking note of two things- or rather, two people. One, Art- conversing with some friends from the foundation with a big grin on his face. Two, Patrick- having his fill of finger foods from the refreshment table. He was alone. And though you tried to fight it, you found yourself gravitating towards him. 

“Do they not have food where you’re from?” You teased, falling into place at his side. Your gaze slid over the spread before flicking up to his face. 

You’d caught him mid-bite, and he attempted to swallow quickly and regain his composure. Something warmed slightly in your chest. Endearing. 

“Well, I’m kinda… in between places right now.” He explained, tongue stuck in his cheek to clear out residual bits of food, “And there’s never stuff as good as this.” 

You let the compliment slide away, instead focusing on his more troubling response, “Are you homeless?” 

“What? No.” He chuckled, as if the question were preposterous, “I go all over for tennis. It’s just easier to stay on the move.” 

You raised an eyebrow, “And on off-season?” 

Something in his expression darkened, only for a moment, and then he was back to cocky smiles and overwhelming confidence, “I’m too busy to care about that. And what’s it matter to you, anyway?” 

“I’d like to think I’m a good person.” You said, plucking a snack off the table and popping it into your mouth. You chewed it halfway before continuing, “And a good person worries if they think someone they care about isn’t doing well.” 

Patrick grinned at you for five long seconds. And it took him actually saying the words to realize where you’d slipped up. 

“You care about me?” 

Shit. You had not meant to say that. Why was this man so damn good at getting every little thought in your head to spill out of your mouth? 

“If caring about you means I don’t want you sleeping under a bridge somewhere, then sure.” 

“Okay, I would never let it get that far-” 

“I wanna help.” 

He blinked, “Help how?” Briefly, very briefly, you thought of your bed. Your comfortable, spacious bed, perfect for three individuals. You could picture it- you, safe and sound and nestled between the two men. Art, your lovely, obedient husband on one side, letting himself love and be loved. And Patrick on the other side, nice and cozy with a roof over his head and a full belly. 

The image flashed in an instant, and you were left with hollow, heavy guilt. You swallowed. 

“How much do you need?” 

“Huh?” You rolled your eyes at him, “How much money do you need? To keep you afloat for the next little while. And I’ll send you home tonight with leftovers.” 

Patrick let the words wash over him, slowly smiling as they did. He took a step towards you, close enough that one tiny shove would have your bodies pressed together. You could smell him, all sweat and cigarettes and woodsy cologne that made your head spin. You’d been wound up all night, and this was absolutely not helping. 

“You gonna write me a check? Use your hard-earned money to get a practical stranger a hotel for a couple nights?” He murmured, heavy on the charm, “What would your husband think?” 

He knew he’d gotten under your skin. He knew what he was doing. He was fucking enjoying this. 

You tried to hold your ground, looking up at him through your lashes, “It’s his money, actually. He makes sure I never have to work unless I want to.” 

“Guess he treats you pretty well. And look how you’re taking advantage of it.” His hand lay on the table next to yours, his fingertips nearly brushing the skin of your wrist. How bad would it be if you closed the gap? 

You bit your lip, “You’re allowed to turn me down.” 

“I don’t think I’d ever turn you down, Mrs. Donaldson.” 

Something about that title, something about the way he said it, made your blood run hot and cold at the same time. It reminded you of the myths of sirens. Beautiful monsters of the sea that used their voices to bring others to their demise. Talking to Patrick had that same type of allure, and the sense of danger. 

“Then tell me what you need.” 

“What do you think I need?” 

Oh, you could think of a few things. But you could also feel a pair of eyes on you, and you knew exactly who they belonged to. Part of you wanted to tempt him, see if you could get another reaction like out on the balcony. However, you quickly shot the idea down. Not right now, not in the middle of a crowded party.

Lips curving into an innocent smile, you pushed yourself a step back from him, “I think you need a nice place to sleep. And a few good meals. And maybe a hug.” 

The sudden switch-up took Patrick by surprise, but he handled it smoothly and responded only a beat later, “You’re offering?” 

“At least for the first two.” You didn’t know what you’d do if you were in his arms. With the way you were feeling now, with two glasses of wine in your system, your boundaries were getting blurrier and blurrier. How humiliating. 

His bottom lip jutted out into a pout. Which unfortunately dragged your gaze right down to his mouth. It took you a moment too long to meet his eyes again. 

“What, we can’t hug? Don’t you consider me a friend?” 

“I do.” You shrugged, tucking loose hair behind your ear, “Maybe I’m just not a touchy person.” 

A lie. You knew it, and you could tell by the look on his face that he knew it too.

“Yeah.” He smirked, sounding the opposite of sincere, “Art’s wife isn’t a touchy person. Sure.” 

You needed a cold shower. Or to go have some one-on-one time with your vibrator. Or maybe move to the seaside and spend your days going mad in a lighthouse. You weren’t sure. All you knew was how increasingly hot you were feeling. 

“Speaking of Art, go talk to him. Try to make amends. Meet some of his friends.” You suggested, glancing over at your husband. He wasn’t watching you anymore, at least not straight on. But he had a radar when it came to you, and he was very diligent in keeping tabs. No matter what.

“You trying to get rid of me?” Patrick asked lightly. No heat behind the words. 

“Oh, yes.” You admitted, placing your hands on his shoulders and pointing him towards Art, “Find me again before you leave and I’ll have your check.” 

“Yes, ma’am.” He grinned at you over his shoulder, sending a wink before sauntering off. 

Finally, you felt like you could actually get a breath in your lungs. 

The party had ended. Guests went home, Patrick got his check and headed to a hotel you recommended, and you and your partner left all the cleanup for the morning. You barely gave it a second glance as you went up to bed with him, your hand held tightly in his. 

Art fucked you like a starving man that night. You barely got into the room before his lips were plastered on your skin, his hands unzipping your dress with quick precision. He was usually much more reserved, but something about tonight had made him ravenous. And he wasn’t the only one.

You ended up on his lap; bare chests pressed together, skin sweaty and breaths heavy as you rolled your hips into him. His hands clutched your thighs, keeping you close, fingers pressing into the flesh. You pulled on his hair and his head immediately fell back. As if he were a puppet for you to position and use however you wanted. His eyes looked up at you with a fire in them you’d never seen before, but the adoration, the reverence, was all too familiar. 

Your name fell from his lips over and over again like a prayer. The single word weaved with threads of devotion, possessiveness, desire. A song joined in chorus by whatever nonsensical phrase entered his head. I love you, so perfect, all mine, please, please, please. 

He was claiming you. Marking his territory in his own special way. It didn’t matter that Patrick wasn’t here to see it, or that he probably would never even know. As long as Art could tell himself that you were his, he’d be okay. Jealousy was a good look on him. 

You could feel your core tighten with each and every movement of his hips against you. You weren’t going to last much longer. But by the look in your husband’s eyes, neither was he. 

Parted lips claimed yours in a messy kiss, tongue sliding into your mouth and exploring every open space. Then you were being flipped over; back pressed into the mattress as Art rocked into you with reckless abandon. He intertwined his fingers with yours and pinned your hands above your head without ever breaking the kiss. 

You lasted about thirty seconds. Finally, the tension in you snapped and your orgasm washed over you in waves, leaving you limp and trembling. Art finished only a moment later. You could feel him pulsing inside of you as the aftershocks slowly faded away. The room reeked of sweat and sex and your head was spinning. 

Art, your precious, dutiful man, rested his head on your chest as he attempted to catch his breath. You could feel the tickle of his lips kissing your skin, the soft squeeze of his hands on your hips. You ran a hand through his damp hair, fingers massaging his scalp. 

“I love you.” He murmured against your ribs, right over your thundering heart. He said it like he couldn’t quite believe he was allowed, like he didn’t believe you were here, that you were his. 

Dark hair and cigarette smoke flashed through your mind. Almost-touching hands and paper checks. 

“I love you.” You responded, kissing his hairline, “Happy Birthday, baby.” 

The only response you got was a tired, happy sound and another kiss to your collarbone. A quick adjustment later and the two of you were tucked under the blankets, your head on Art’s chest and his arm around you. Neither of you cared enough to clean yourselves up or to put pajamas on. Art was already softly snoring next to you, and you could feel your eyelids getting heavy.

As you listened to the baddump of his heart, a strange thought flitted through your mind. You’d just had the best sex of your life, and it was because of Patrick. You weren’t the only one who’d been thinking of him while in the throes of passion. The notion made something strange twinge in your gut. 

And then, like he’d somehow read your mind, your phone lit up with a text. 

Patrick Zweig: You free for lunch tomorrow?

***

Taglist: 

@jxssimae

@jackierose902109

@dvrkstxrlightt

@yesimwriting

@1989tvcore 

@kookie29 

@dopeoafslimebanana

@vadergf

@nsyncvinyl 

@ireallydontcareanymorebrooo

@brunettegirl

[loudclan-clangen]

Loudclan - Moon 22: Part 1

Eklutna gives birth to her first litter: a sweet tom, a quiet tom, and an inquisitive tom.

The healers are unable to stop the bleeding. Eklutna dies at 100 moons old. Her kits are unnamed.

[Ooo, cliffhanger! But, then again, is it really? I mean, we all KNOW who the father is. It’s like half of the asks in my inbox. Y’all don’t even need me, heck, I could go on vacation for a month and just leave you guys to it! All jokes, of course, I LOVE all of the speculating and guessing you guys have been doing, and the only reason I haven’t been replying to it is that some of you guys are TOO GOOD (like, I had to double check that I hadn't accidentally leaked my own notes document good). In all seriousness though, I am going to be taking a break! I am still absolutely enjoying doing this and plan to continue for as long as you guys will stick around, but in order to stay in that positive headspace I have to take time off occasionally. Don’t worry, I won’t be gone! I’ll still be receiving and answering asks/fan art/messages it will just be slowed significantly. I’ll also be working behind the scenes to put together something special for you guys as a reward for being patient with my little vacation (Keep an eye out for a poll regarding this)! Oh, and if you have any suggestions/requests for how the blog could be better organized now is the perfect time to send those in. Anyway, this is all to say “Moon 22 Part 2 Oh No! The Consequences of my Actions!” is coming early July!]

Real talk though, apart from the announcement I just want to say how awesome you guys are. The community here has healed my heart in so many ways and I can’t wait for my own break to be over so that I can keep giving you guys pieces of this story to enjoy! While I’m gone please consider checking out other Clangen blogs on here! My personal favorites are @fallenclan the first blog I ever came across and very long running so it has lots to binge read, @jungleclan / @circus-clangen I’m like 99% sure they’re run by the same person but now that I’m typing it I’m second guessing myself, they’re also on break rn which means it is the perfect time to get caught up and ready for the next puzzle, @nettleclanstale who posts so frequently I am pretty sure they’re a wizard who pulls art straight out of their brain a instead of drawing it, and @crowclan-gen run by an irl friend of mine who’s just getting started out!

First Moon

Next Moon

[allfearstofallto]

saw yr posts abt submissive yanderes, and hear me out, tartaglia. i mean this from the bottom of my heart he is the one that wants you to do things to him, and while that’s not exactly submission i think it’s close enough?

just… in my mind he wants anything you’ll give him, he’ll give his body up to you, even if you punch and kick him, he takes it, sure he’d rather you treat him the way he would (does?) you, but any touch you give makes him feel like a wild animal.

tartaglia, who just needs you. idek i’m losing my train of thought 🙏

I don't think it's exactly what you wanted, but I got carried away and wrote masochist Childe👉🏾👈🏾. I hope that's okay!!! Personally, as a woman who loves femdom, it felt so good to write this though!! It was like I was going back to my roots.

TW: NSF.W Yandere themes, BDSM (bondage, sadism/masochism), violence, nipple play, unprotected sex, finishing inside, dub-con, overstimulation(?), choking

“Hurt me more,” he cooed while looking up at you with big, eyes full of anticipation. Drool leaking from his lips, his cheek was already red and warm from your stinging slap across it, “C’mon, I know you hate me. Now's your chance to treat me like you do.” He'd goad you with that same smug, smirk on his face.

Childe's big strong arms were tied with a rope to the headboard. The material was tight, digging into the flesh of his wrist anytime he'd struggle against them. But despite the aching pain you could imagine he was feeling, he showed a face of hunger, of desire for more.

His cock, large and twitching, was strained against his boxers, begging to be let free from its confines. When you brought another rough slap down across his cheek, you watched it twitch and leak and darken that already deep fabric with his precum, while he trembled with his tongue lolling out of his mouth.

He'd grind his hips up, wanting you to free his aching dick, but you never did. You knew he could cum without it and he did too. Your hand would slide up his chiseled stomach, his body was always slightly colder than what it was supposed to be, and you squeezed one of his pink nipples between your finger tips. As hard as you could. Squeezing and twisting until your hand shook.

Lips clenched together, he muffled his own moans. His cock twitched in his underwear a few more times, the head of it rubbing against the precum he'd already spilled on his boxers .He came like that, the many shots of his semen continuing to soak the cloth until it began to drip down his cock again.

When he stilled from his orgasm, his body still twitching, he smiled at you lovingly. All the disgust you felt towards him still there, you'd turn away without a word.

You never took yourself to be much of a sadist, the idea of it being like a whisper of the night, never being brought to the day, but that was before Childe took you. Locked away in his home, falling victim to his torture that he called love, you felt animosity towards him grow. That animosity would turn into violent fits of rage, ones that he never took seriously. There was no way you could actually hurt a harbinger, especially without a vision, but that didn't stop you from trying. And one fateful day, you actually managed to connect a punch to his jaw.

It was your first time ever punching someone and felt more like you were hitting a brick wall than a person. You shook your sore hand out, immediately regretting what you'd done for the pain it caused you instead. But Childe stood there stiff, a little bruise forming on the side of his face. His eyes had rolled back, body beginning to shutter. His mouth agape, he let out a soft, low moan. You were going to tell him to stop joking around, that he wasn't funny, until he dropped to his knees in front of you, a wet patch forming on the front of his pants. Childe had cum just from your little act of violence.

While he loved the art of fighting. The rush that ending another life gave him, the way his body felt while he was throwing punches, it was an unmatchable adrenaline rush, he never knew he was one for pain. Pain from your hands felt different. It felt pleasurable. A familiar stinging followed by tingles that shot through his body. Only you could do that to him.

“You're incredible, my angel,” he moaned while kissing up your thighs, wanting to do more with this new found knowledge of his.

He had you laid back on the bed, pounding into your tender cunt with little mercy. Each long stroke of his cock made your toes curl from the unwanted pleasure of him hitting your insides. Your legs on his hips, you squeezed the sheets for leverage as you begged for him to stop, or at the very least slow down. He was going to fast, too drunk and clumsy from the satisfaction your dripping pussy was giving him.

Childe’s large hand engulfed your wrist, a feeling you were familiar with. Instead of holding you in place so he could fuck you deeper into the mattress with less struggle from you like you thought he would, he lifted it up and placed your palm to his neck.

“Make me,” he growled, lust clouding his eyes. Uncertainty caused you to tremble for a moment before you realized that this was Childe, nothing you could do could actually hurt him. He was asking for it, even going as far as to lift your legs higher, to thrust into you deeper, to make you try to stop him more.

You squeezed that muscled throat, choking him with the hope that he might actually die, but knowing better. He loved it, his already obnoxious moans were even louder than before. His thrusts felt even more rough, hips slapping against yours as you actually felt yourself growing a little aroused from this and he noticed too. A smirk on his face as he struggled to inhale, but still fucking you at that same brutal pace with those same deep, strokes.

He strained to speak as he tried to tell you he was cumming, his mouth just opening and closing, drooling down his chin. Childe forced his cock balls deep inside of you, going so deep with his length it almost felt uncomfortable. He began to cum, dick twitching like mad against your walls. Soft whimpers and groans would drop from his lips as you didn't let go of him, only squeezing his throat tighter.

His cock didn't get the chance to soften, he stayed hard as he started slow, shallow thrusts into your pussy again. The mixture of the pain of overstimulation and lack of air from your choking has him convulsing, but he didn't pull out, using his own cum as lube.

“Ah…hah…just say you want to milk me dry, my love, I'll keep going,” he managed to grunt through tears, his orange hair sticking to his forehead with sweat.

[luna-loveboop]

Wait...

It's November. It's November first. Yesterday was October 31st, so October is over. ...it's over. Is it over?

Inktober, artober, whumptober, flufftober, linktober, every tag ending with -tober that's been circulating for the past month... is it over? I don't know why it's just hit me but...

This matters. So I will try to get the message across, even though I'm not the best at it sometimes

Fanartists, fan writers, artists, fic writers, people making comics, every single one of you that has created art for the past month...

Thank you

This is my first October on tumblr. When I started seeing the "tober" tags, seeing the posts from artists with wips, saying they were going to make something every day to a prompt, making masterposts to update with each day, I thought "cool"

But every day this month, I have gotten on here and smiled.

And I don't mean smiled. I mean I smiled at least 20 times every time I got on the app because I saw all the art and fics. I got to see artists/writers connect stories through different day prompts. I saw people having the most brilliant ideas and creativity, flowing from their hands into their posts. I saw artists responding to continuous asks, telling them how amazing they are. I saw artists getting behind, and keeping going.

I saw Free. Beautiful. Emotional. Amazing. Original. Creative. Art.

Every day

I haven't committed to anything of this before, so I can't directly relate to what you guys were thinking and feeling. But I'm willing to guess; I think you probably enjoyed it, because most won't do such a huge project unless they enjoy it. I think you probably saw it as a challenge you were willing to fulfill, and an opportunity to grow and develop your skills.

... but I'm also willing to bet you did it for us. For people like me, who love art, but don't do this specific type, who are in fandoms, who love tracking and watching you art and sending you compliments, who take joy in your work. For the other artists (and writers!) who admire each others styles and love to learn from each other.

If anyone ever tries to tell me that humans are inherently evil again, I will strap them to a chair, pull up these posts and say look. Look at what these people did. Look me in the eyes and tell me these sorts of actions don't come from the most loving hearts. Tell me these people don't want to make others happy, that they aren't inherently good. And I will tell you you're wrong.

I have so much going on, yet somehow it slipped into my life that I was constantly looking at your art for the joy of it without me even noticing.

And how is it possible. That we have such a beautiful community of people here that we will share. And communicate. And exchange compliments. And literally do things and send asks solely for the purpose of making someone smile.

I'm almost crying by now. God I can't express it well enough! But I am so. So. Grateful

You guys brought me a month of joy! You gave headcanons, and art, and stories!

Even yesterday, Halloween, I was blown away. Because I had expected... I didn't expect anything. And then I log on and see people sending happy halloween asks, exchanging doodles of candy, and headcanons and gifs.

And some are still catching up to the schedule or whatever, and that's ok! But at the beginning of this post, when I was simply realizing it was November, I asked myself "is it over?"

Is it over?

... I don't think so. I've seen artists say they're going to continue and expand on a piece they made and especially liked this month. Some people are still continuing, catching up to a voluntary deadline. All those masterposts with your whump/fluff/link/ink tober art? I know many as well as myself will be going through, looking over your posts with smiles, catching up on some things they missed this month... it will continue in the people and artists I didn't know existed before, but now follow. In the skills and growth in creativity! In the community we've grown, and art you've made, and the art to come, at a normal rate like every other month, even if it's not October anymore!

But my artists, writers... thank you so much. I don't know if you guys know how valuable and amazing you are. How incredible it is that you exist! People say it's amazing we exist under a sky of such stars, but how incredible is it that you made a stranger on the internet smile every day! Your life is so. So. Valuable. I can't even express how grateful I am that you exist, that you somehow are selfless enough to share the most beautiful parts of yourself simply to create, and to create joy. Thank you so so much.

(And this applies to all artists, in any fandoms, not just mine. And I'm just as grateful to people who couldn't do something every day, or only one day! You still share your art, you're just as... incredible. You are incredible.)

Okay.

So I'm gonna do this, and if others want to do it in the reblogs that's great! I do not care at all about reblogging or likes, but I want to make the people that have brought me such joy some appreciation- I hope I can bring you even a smidgen of the light you have brought into my life. So I'm gonna tag all the artists/writers I know of/can think of that have done any sort of October challenge, all of you creators that have made me smile. If people wanna want to tag others in the reblogs or replies to spread love that's cool.

(Basically I don't know social customs or anything at all, so if you don't want me to tag or if I was supposed to do something different or something let me know I have no idea what I'm supposed to do)(if I like accidentally tagged someone who isn't an artist/writer or forgot someone I follow... sorry)

@skyward-floored @kikker-oma @adrift-in-thyme @blueskittlesart @zeldaseyebrows @smilesrobotlover @bahbahhh @soso-dedeck @lennsart @arecaceae175 @illcamp @breannasfluff @solarfire-art @26kabeuchi @cathianemelian @truffeart @scribbly-z-raid @uniquevoidflowers

To all the artists and writers out there: thank you so much!!! You are amazing and I'm glad you exist. Your life is precious, and you matter. Thank you so much for sharing your beauty with us, we love you too!!!!!

... yeah. Just want yall to feel loved... because you are. Again, thank you. Thank you so so much to my beautiful creators who create joy as well as art, who keep storytelling alive. Just... thank you.

:)

[dietcokegirly12]

your two part fic with jouno x tecchou x reader is so good!! idk about everyone else but i LOVE your jouno and tecchou stuff and will eagerly consume whatever you write for them 🙏🙏 part 3 where reader watches suegiku do stuff together when… jk… unless😋

anyways tysm for posting them!! you are such a good writer!! have a good day!! :)

“Sharing is Caring”

・┈・┈ ˚₊·—̳͟͞͞♡ ┈・┈・˚₊·—̳͟͞͞♡ ┈・┈・˚₊·—̳͟͞͞♡ ┈

art cred: akinekrofill

・┈・┈ ˚₊·—̳͟͞͞♡ ┈・┈・˚₊·—̳͟͞͞♡ ┈・┈・˚₊·—̳͟͞͞♡ ┈

synopsis: jouno teaches tecchou how to give head???

a/n: they r boy kissers!! also goblinfae, i love you sm for this req, pls take my hand in marriage (˶ ˘ ³˘) this suegiku series is my lifeline and i'm so happy you guys want me to continue it!! also this is for the anon who requested pt3 as well!

word count: 1.1k

tags: oral (m!recieving), threesome, handjob, masturbation, edging, teasing, needy!tecchou, mean!jouno

pt.1 and pt.2 ♡

⌞ ˚₊ ꨄ︎・┈・╴˚₊ ꨄ︎⸝⸝・┈・╴꒰ ₊˚⊹ ᰔ ꒱ ╴˚ ꨄ︎₊˚ ╴˚ ꨄ︎ ⌝

" jouno simply chuckles, grabbing tecchou's head again to push him, only this time between his legs. "hmm.. you still could use some more oral practice, wouldn't you say?" "

you gasp, watching as your boyfriend shoves tecchou down, instinctively reaching for him, but it's too late, tecchou's mouth already open and colliding messily with jouno's twitching cock.

tecchou stiffens, while jouno's head flops back with a groan, eyebrows scrunching together tightly, hips already thrusting deeper into the other's awaiting mouth.

"t-tecchou are you..." you start uncertainly, not sure if you should interfere, but after taking one glance at him and seeing his eager mouth already trying to force down more of jouno’s long inches, you decide not to.

"fuck, tecchou! didn't realize this mouth was useful for something other t-than talking!" jouno's chest heaves up and down, as his hands come down to tangle in his mussed, brown locks, pushing his hips further into his hot, wet mouth.

tecchou practically whines, as jouno stuffs him full of his cock, drool already seeping out of the corners of his lips.

and you can't do anything but watch, lip pulled between your teeth as you press your thighs together tightly, trying to ignore the persistent throbbing starting between them.

"yeah yeahhh, jus' like that.." jouno sets a sloppy, punishing pace, the lewd, wet pop! sounds of tecchou's pink lips sliding him in and out the only sound aside from the occasional grunt or moan.

with jouno's slender hips pistoning in and out, he began to get rough with poor tecchou, shoving his face further and further down, until with every thrust he was gagging viciously, unused to jouno's sheer length.

"s'big riiight?" jouno mocks, lips pulled up in a sneer.

"jouno, don't be mean." you pout from your spot on the bed, feeling left out as you watch.

he simply leers down at the man below. "what, sweetheart, you think he should get a reward? for sucking my cock without complaint?"

you nod eagerly. "yes, yes, jouno. please?"

he sighs, giving in with exasperation, as his slender hand reaches down to grip tecchou's prominent, curved cock, hard and throbbing with need. "anything for my pretty girlfrien'.."

and with that, he runs his thumb lightly over a vein on tecchou's girth, causing him to gasp, eyes squeezing shut tightly.

"keep sucking, pretty boy." he instructs, beginning to give his length a few solid strokes as encouragement, tecchou's mouth immediately swirling around jouno with renewed vigor.

the pulsing between your legs intensifies until it's all you can feel, your slick dripping down your thighs to pool between you, eyes glued to the men in front of you.

jouno's hips languidly thrust in and out of tecchou's mouth, while he huffs for breath, grinding and rutting against the other's hand desperately.

"be a good boy, 'chou, don't cum too early." jouno instructs, his own voice getting breathier from the stimulation.

and that sets you over the edge, unable to stop yourself any longer. your hand comes between your plush thighs to circle your sopping wet cunt, watching the two men in front of you as you dip a finger into your pussy, curling it upward.

tecchou whimpers, face flushing as he nuzzles closer into jouno's shaft, and you can tell he's close to cumming.

and as his whines get higher, breath hitching and hips jerking forward into jouno's expertly moving hand.. he stops.

tecchou shudders, eyes rolling back, as his hips stutter, stunned from the loss of pleasure. “f-fuck, jounooo…” he whines out, cheeks pink.

“not yet..” he coos. “not till my doll over there gets herself worked up enough to cum with us.”

tecchou’s head turns, and you blush with the two men’s attention on you, your hand stilling at being caught.

“ah ah, don’t get shy now.” jouno chuckles, his head tilting. “or else tecchou’s never gonna get to cum.” he teasingly slides his thumb along tecchou’s desperately leaking slit for emphasis.

tecchou whimpers at that, looking at you pleadingly. “f-fuck. pleaseee, need it s’bad.”

gulping, you obediently slide your hand back between your legs, rubbing your puffy clit and tilting your head back with pleasure, acutely aware of the two men in front of you.

and as you increase your pace, plunging a finger into your sopping cunt, lewd squelching sounds ensuing, you glance up with half-lidded eyes to see tecchou staring, his breathing heavy, and cock seeming to swell under your gaze.

this does not go unnoticed by jouno, his heightened senses allowing practically nothing to get by him, as he pumps tecchou’s length more languorously, tightening his fist around him. “she’s hot, huh?”

he grunts in response, hips thrusting sloppily, unable to tear his eyes away from you as you spread your legs further tantalizingly, moaning louder for emphasis.

“don’t be a tease, baby.. tecchou wants to cum, hm?”

you rock against your hand, watching as jouno’s hips start a brutal pace into tecchou’s open mouth, tongue lolling out as his balls slap against his chin, drool and precum pooling down his chin messily.

as you feel your stomach stiffening into tight knots that signifies the end of your release, you look over to see jouno gasping softly, tecchou’s weeping cock spurting more glossy pre-cum, the sheen of it coating jouno’s flicking wrist.

“you guys close?” you taunt, slowing your hand slightly, hips jolting forward.

jouno’s eyebrows twitch as he turns his head in your direction. “you better not be teasing, sweetheart.” his voice is a dangerous rasp, one that sends a jolt through you, pussy just throbbing from his tone.

“maybe i am…” you lift your chin defiantly, a small thrill running through you.

jouno’s voice turns breathier, and you can practically feel how close to tipping over the edge he is, his control hanging on by a thread. “darling don’t make me.. hah.. tecchou! fuck fuck fuck!”

and tecchou can’t hold back any longer, a small whimper being his only warning as he shudders and twitches with pleasure, warm, thick seed gushing out of his flushed cock, absolutely covering jouno’s hand.

and then jouno’s cumming too.

with a low groan, his hips jerk forward into tecchou’s open mouth, a choked noise coming from him as pulses of ribbony white spurt out, seemingly endless in its entirety.

“yeah.. yeahh.. take it all.” jouno’s head flops back, sweaty locks of maroon tipped hair stuck to his forehead.

ever the obedient puppy, tecchou does, swallowing as much as he can, creamy white dribbling down the sides of his mouth.

jouno hums, pleased before bending to reward him with a wet, messy kiss, unapologetic in his intensity as he licks all the cum coating tecchou’s lips eagerly.

you watch, hot and flushed all over, feeling your own orgasm nearing closer and closer and..

someone’s hand clamps tightly over your wrist, stopping you.

jouno.

“don’t think we forgot about you, doll.”

[suiana]

yo i saw ur rb && feel free to write about the renting concept!!! if u do pls tag me i’d love to see <33 😋

😻😻 rhanks genie

(yandere! rental boyfriend x gn! reader) (shitpost kinda) (concept based on this post)

you know, it's not like you were ugly, dumb or poor. in fact, you consider yourself rather attractive, smart and quite rich. but it seems that no one has noticed that which... might've been why you were single for a very long period of time.

very meaning from when you were born up until recently.

you had always desired for a relationship. wanting to experience the joys of love, the romance, the contentment you get whenever you're with that special someone.

unfortunately you never got to experience that. never. even after putting down your dignity and renting a boyfriend.

you had rented a rather pretty looking guy from this... dodgy website called 'rent-a-darling'? was that the name? it probably is. what a weird website it's called. anyways, it was basically a rental boyfriend/girlfriend website and you had absolutely struck gold with it.

perfect face, perfect body, incredibly intelligent... he was basically a work of art. and his personality wasn't half that bad either! he cracked jokes and they were entertaining enough! he made you laugh, feel better about your miserable love life...

but he just wasn't it.

so you decided to end contact with him. there was no point in continuing that rental service anyways. it's not like he'd like you back even if you fell for him.

except that was exactly what happened?? a few days after you officially ended your contact with your absolute god of a rental boyfriend, he showed up at your doorstep, panting as a lovesick look paints his beautiful features.

you were concerned to say the least. after all, you had never seen him act in such a way before. which was why you allowed him in... which led you to your current situation which was far from ideal.

"could you let me go please? my arms are sore..."

"you know, you're really cute like this."

you merely sigh in response, looking away as you grow awkward under his obsessed gaze. this has been the fifth day since he tied you up, only allowing you to leave the bed for meals and the toilet.

and in those five days he's openly admitted to be in love with you.

while it was nice and endearing to hear such words, you only wish it was from someone you actually loved back. and maybe not as crazy as this guy was.

"can you please let me go? do you want money or something? i can give it to you-"

"what i want is your love, and that cannot be bought with money."

he interjects promptly, still smiling at you with his pearly white teeth which were honestly starting to creep you out. why were they so white? why was he so objectively perfect? and why was he madly obsessed with you?

"hey can i just ask something? why are you so obsessed? like just why."

he pauses for a second, hummung contently as he shuts his eyes for a bit.

"I'm not sure why,"

his eyes open again and he continues his sentence. this time, you can't help but feel an impending sense of dread in your gut when he speaks.

"i guess i just really adore you."

he then giggles oddly, tugging at your bedsheets as his face nears yours.

"you complete me, my love."

you grimace as his face nears yours. ugh, what you wanted was that lovey dovey shit you saw on television. not whatever this was. kidnapping and constant moans of how your captor loves you.

but oh well, it is a relationship. just not the one you wanted. maybe you could learn to deal with it-

"darling! if you tell me how much you love me, block everyone else you know, leave your job, and promise to run away with me, I'll untie you! how about it?"

...yeah, you're not dealing with this. perhaps you're just not meant for love.

[pixelchills]

So, I think it's time to talk about Sun in Help Wanted 2 and how I think a lot of people have (in my opinion) misunderstood the sass and now think Sun is some mean bully who needs a cigarette and a vacation.

Posting my thoughts under here for spoiler warnings:

I think first and foremost we need to understand that Sun has always, ALWAYS, been a sucker for rules. He had one rule for Gregory in Security Breach, which he broke and Sun banned him from the Daycare.

In the Arts & Crafts game in HW2 Sun is overly giddy and excited, a little bit anxious but clearly tries to hide it. He wants you to just follow the rules and do arts and crafts with him!

If you follow the rules, you get no mean or sassy comments and instead he gives you praises and even does the cute yippee jumps at the end.

But if you misbehave (throw things at him, eat the supplies) he gets irritated, but none of the voicelines really hint towards him being mean or sassy to you, but more of his worry about his own and your safety.

You throwing things at him: Sun sees you're making a mess, he doesn't like the mess. If you hit him with the items he often laughs at it sarcastically and tells you to stop. Firmly. Sometimes he lets out comments under his breath ("I should turn off the lights myself").

You eating the art supplies: well, we all collectively know it is not healthy. Sun obviously doesn't want you to do that either. I think at this moment he just knows you're a damn idiot since you're an adult and are eating the googly eyes. I don't blame him for getting so angry; Sun realises he is just babysitting an adult which is not something he is supposed to do.

Sun doesn't like the arts you make if you haven't followed the rules. This is where he gets sassy and mean. His rules were very simple! If anything, this just proves the fact Sun is a little goody-shoes who values rules and doesn't like those who don't follow them.

During the course of the arts and crafts, Sun is impatient. He rushes you and keeps bugging about the time. "You're taking foreverrrrrr" is my favourite line just simply how frustrated he sounds. We always knew Sun was speedy and has no patience to just sit and wait. He needs to have his hands busy because that's most likely his way to deal with his anxiety - sitting still doing nothing will make his anxiety worse, or depression, or whatever he is trying to hide.

Because that's how he is in the RUIN version of the level. Just sitting in his pillowfort, sad and depressed. Just wanting to be left alone. Too long for doing nothing, his sad thoughts and the neglect has caught upon him. He is so so sad, but let's you work on the crafts as long as you just get out and leave him to continue sulking.

He doesn't trust you. Sun says: "It's safer this way". But it might not mean that it's safer for you, but safer for him. He doesn't want to give himself the false hope of someone coming to his rescue, or he has the fear that you're a human who will hurt him again. Either of those options are just really, really sad and I think everything he went through between these two games is a worth of an analysis, but we'll leave that for another day.

In short: Sun is still the same Sun we all fell in love with, he hasn't turned into a sassy bully just because he doesn't like your art. But we need to understand he is just THAT strict for the rules, because breaking them will either get him, or you, in trouble.

[michealscorneroftheinternet]

ALRIGHT LADIES AND GENTLEMEN!!!!

IT'S ABOUT TIME I GIVE SOME LOVE TO MY FAVORITE CREATORS!!!

And by love I mean scream my lungs out-

@strange0-0storm

Bro your character SMG8 has me in a chokehold!

He had me with music. I mean hell I'm listening to music right now while writing this (Digital Hallucination by OR3O) and was when drawing this. I listen to music constantly for inspo. I can imagine sitting and vibing with SMG8 just sharing music together.

Your art style specifically is a big love of mine. I very much envy how you draw SMG8's teeth-

@ominus-potato

BRO....

I literally originally started lurking around your page just finding Marware a fun crack ship but at this point you've dragged me into this ship full on. I'm a sucker for idiot with a charismatic partner. Will always remind me of Roger and Jessica Rabbit.

I continuously look forward to any post of yours! <3

@purpdrawsthings

WHERE TO EVEN START WITH YOU BUDDY-

BRO I SWEAR EVERY TIME I WAKE UP AND SEE A MENTION FROM YOU I GET A GOOFY ASS SMILE ON MY FACE! YOUR ART IS CONSISTENTLY AMAZING!

Your love for all my Aus and me and my friends au brings a smile to both our faces!!!!

@misskamilyvision

YOU.

WHEN I FREAKING GET YOU!!! YOUR LITTLE LORE BITS HAVE BEEN DRIVING ME INSANE!!!

I SWEAR ONE MORE AND I MIGHT COMBUST!

STOP BEING SO GOOD AT SAYING SO MUCH AND SO LITTLE IN ONE POST!!!

Not to mention but the fanart you have done for me in the past still brings a smile to my face whenever I find it in my fanart folder!

Never stop being so dang creative!

@grinnames

Hhiiiiiiiiii buddyyyyyy~

Fun tid bit about God Box AU Michael.

They know we exist.

They can see us.

Past the screen.

Teehee! But that out of the way your GodBox AU posts are always a pleasure to see! As someone who loves some good horror I lovingly enjoy each post!

I look forward to another lore drop on those bois. Especially maybe more of Mario as I'm intrigued about our spaghetti loving Italian.

@its-a-me-mango

Aye it's the doc!

The one and only Mango!

Your art is consistently just great eye candy for me.

Though I must repeat as I did to KamilyVision....

STOP DROPPING SUCH VAGUE LORE WITH LITTLE CONTEXT!!!! /J

IMMA FUCKING LOSE IT WITH THIS SHIT!!! WHAT HAPPENED TO YOU MAN?! FMSKKDNFBDKWLKJFOSLWJBD

@tiredsmashbros

YOU....

I GOT A BONE TO PICK WITH YOU BUCKO!!!!

STOP JUMPSCARING ME WITH FANART MAN!!! YOUR GONNA FRY MY DAMN CIRCUITS!!! YOU MAKE IT SEEM LIKE ITS NOT A BIG DEAL!??!!?! AND YOUR MOST LATEST ONE BEING FOR PRACTICE?! FUCKING HELLO?! LOOKS LIKE A FULL MASTERPIECE TO ME!!!

SO IN RETURN IM GIVING YOU FANART OF YOURSELF WITH ME FUCKING TEASING YOU!!! BITE ME!

@coralalala64

Youuuuuuuu........

Your damn angst almost every FREAKING TIME feels like you are personally putting your hand through my chest and yanking out my heart and squeezing it like it's a damn squeaker from a squeaky toy!

STOP BREAKING MY DAMN HEART!!!!!

YOU ARE SO STUPIDLY TALENTED AND ITS DRIVING ME INSANE WITH ALL THE WORK YOU DO!!!!

Keep up the good work but if I see another angst post anytime soon I'm going to implode and I'm taking you with me. /J

Okay that's all of you!

But yeah, hi all you lovely creators! You all are big inspirations of mine and I adore all your works in a unique way. Plenty of the things you all create have inspired me within my own art and series Change in Script! You guys are honestly amazing!

I can't wait to see what you all continue to create within or outside of the SMG4 community!

[writingforstraykids]

I owe you a kiss - Pt.9

Pairing: Minchan x femReader

Word Count: 2943

Summary: Minho and you spend a day at the art gallery, Chan takes you out for dinner by the river. Both of them try their best to make room for you and reconnect. You haven't been so happy in a while.

Warnings/Tags: fluff, dinner date, museum date, soft!min, soft!chan

A/N: Thought I'd surprise you with another chapter today that I wrote after posting chapter 8. I think we could use the fluff🤭🖤

PART EIGHT | PART TEN (coming soon)

You exchange a soft smile with your husband, tilting your head at him. “You’re okay?” you ask gently. For a moment, all you can hear is the low hum of the city life outside the window. 

“Let’s go out today?” he asks suddenly, his voice cutting through the calm. “Just you and me.”

You study Minho’s face, swallowing at the hope in his eyes. It’s been three weeks since you clashed and you’ve been working on easing out the many strains those past months have taken on your life. Sometimes, Minho seemed a little hesitant, not knowing if you’d let him in enough. “Where would we go?” you ask, allowing a small smile to cover your lips.

“You mentioned that art exhibit at the new gallery downtown a few days ago. I thought you might want to see?” he suggests gently.

You feel warmth spreading through your chest at the thought of him still remembering that. “That sounds wonderful,” you say excitedly. “I would love to.”

“Yeah?” He smiles so sweetly that you reach out for him. He leans into your touch as you caress his cheek and searches your eyes carefully.

“Yes, darling,” you mirror his smile.

The two of you get ready in comfortable silence, side by side, occasionally sharing glances that hold soft smiles and unspoken words. As you step outside, hand in hand, the city greets you with the vibrant colors of an early evening. The sun, low in the sky, paints everything in hues of orange and gold.

The gallery is a modern space with stark white walls filled with vibrant art. You wander through the exhibits, Minho’s presence a steady warmth at your side. You’re busy looking at the different pieces, but his eyes can’t stop finding you. Once more, he notices how beautiful you are, how much he loves you, and how safe you always make him feel. A small smile settles on his lips as he watches you, following you around the rooms willingly. 

At one painting, a chaotic blend of dark and light, you pause longer than at the others. Minho beside you observes the play of emotions across your face. “What do you see?” he asks quietly, not asking about the painting but the meaning you give it.

Your eyes linger on the canvas, chewing your lip a little. “Struggle,” you say, your voice soft in the almost empty room. “But there’s beauty in it too. The colors clash, and still they harmonize…it’s almost like…,” you pause, not quite sure if you should continue.

“It’s like us,” Minho finishes for you, his voice barely above a whisper. He turns to look at you, his gaze filled with understanding. “Finding our beauty in the struggle. Finding some light in the darkness.”

You meet his gaze, your heart aching at the truth of his words. You reach for his hand, fingers intertwining naturally as if they were made to fit together. “Thank you for bringing me here,” you say, your voice thick with emotion.

Minho’s thumb strokes your hand gently, and his eyes soften. “I’d go anywhere with you,” he replies.

You continue your walk through the gallery, and once you step outside, the sky has turned into a velvety blue, and and stars begin to peek out. You decide to take a little detour on your way back home, walking through the park. The city sounds soften in the background, replaced by the rustle of leaves and distant laughter.

The park is lit by scattered lamps, casting their golden lights on the winding path. You walk slowly, comfortable in the peace you feel with him. At a bench by the duck pond, you sit down with him, gazing at the water that glitters beneath the moonlight.

The air is cool by now, a gentle breeze teasing your skin, making you shiver. Minho notices almost immediately, his arm wrapping around your shoulders, pulling you into a warm hug. You lean against him, head resting against his shoulder, and sigh happily. “I missed you.”

“I missed you too,” Minho confesses, voice laced with a warmth that reminds you he’s your home. “I missed just being with you without having to try and function. Just..us.”

You turn to look at him, eyes finding his in the dim light. “We don’t always have to be strong, do we? We can just be us, flaws and all.”

“No, we don’t always have to be strong,” Minho agrees, his hand gently cupping your face. As long as we’re together…that’s enough. That’s more than I could’ve ever asked for,” he whispers. Your lips meet in a gentle kiss before he squeezes your shoulder. “Let’s get back home, hm?”

The walk back is quiet but comfortable. As you reach the doorstep, Minho stops, turning to you with a serious expression on his face. “Let’s make a promise,” he says, eyes locking with yours. “No matter what happens, we keep fighting together, we keep finding beauty in the chaos.”

You nod, face softening at the desperation in his eyes. “I promise.”

Minho leans in, his lips meeting yours in a kiss to seal your promise. It’s soft and sweet and holds the promise and gentle words of today. “Come on, honey. Let’s see if Channie’s home yet,” he says, and you nod happily.

Inside, the house is quiet, making the atmosphere feel almost too serene. As you shed your coats and shoes, Minho calls out gently, not wanting to startle Chan, who might be home. There's no response, and he leads you through to the kitchen, where a note on the counter catches your eye.

"Out with Felix and Binnie. Don't wait up. - Chan" reads the neatly penned message, Minho's lips turning up in a small, knowing smile. "Guess it's just us tonight," he comments.

You nod, missing Chan but also relishing the quiet intimacy that the evening promises with just the two of you. "What do you feel like for dinner?" you ask, turning towards the fridge.

Minho shrugs, watching you with an affectionate gaze. "Anything's fine, as long as I'm with you," he replies, his tone soft. 

Deciding on something light and easy, you opt to make a salad with all the fresh ingredients you have, adding grilled chicken for some warmth and substance. Minho sets the table, his movements relaxed, a playlist of soft music filling the background.

As you both sit down to eat, the conversation flows more freely than it has in weeks. Gradually, the dialogue drifts towards more personal topics, about how you've both been feeling and the little things you've missed about each other.

"It's been tough, hasn't it?" Minho says at one point, his fork paused halfway to his mouth. "But nights like this... they remind me why it's worth it. Why we're worth it."

You reach across the table, your hand covering his. "It has been tough. But I wouldn't want to face it with anyone but you," you admit, your voice thick with emotion.

After dinner, you clear the dishes together, a routine that feels comforting in its normalcy. Minho washes, you dry, and there's a gentle efficiency to your movements, a dance you've performed countless times before, each step familiar and reassuring.

With the kitchen tidied up, Minho suggests a walk outside. The night air is still warm enough to be inviting. "Let's just walk around the block, a little night stroll," he proposes, and you agree readily.

Outside, the neighborhood is quiet. Most of the houses are dimmed for the evening, and their inhabitants are likely winding down much like yourselves. You walk hand in hand, your steps unhurried, the silence between you comfortable and easy.

At one point, Minho stops, pulling you into a gentle embrace. "I love you," he murmurs, his voice barely above a whisper. "I know I don't say it enough, but I do. So very much."

"I love you too," you respond, leaning back to look into his eyes. “And you're right. Nights like tonight remind me of us, of what we have and what we're fighting for."

Returning home, you settle onto the sofa, Minho pulling a blanket over you both. You lean into him, your head on his shoulder, and he kisses the top of your head.

"Let's not wait so long to do this again," you suggest, your voice muffled against his shirt.

"Yeah," Minho says, his arm tightening around you. 

As you nod in agreement, feeling the steady beat of his heart against your cheek, you realize that the struggles and the chaos of the past weeks have not been in vain. They've brought you to this moment, safe in Minho’s arms.

-

Chan finds himself back earlier than he planned. After his evening out, he feels the pull of home - of you and Minho - stronger than the laughter and light of the city streets. As he approaches the house, his heart is a mix of nerves and hope. He unlocks the door quietly, half-expecting to find the house still echoing with the tension of previous weeks.

Instead, he steps into a soft-lit silence, low music playing in the living room where he finds you and Minho asleep on the sofa, intertwined under a shared blanket. The sight makes him stop in the doorway, a gentle smile spreading across his face as relief washes over him. Here, in this scene of peaceful slumber, he sees the healing that has begun between you. It almost feels as if you’ve never struggled.

Chan sets down his keys quietly and walks over, his movements gentle to avoid waking you. The intimacy of the moment - the way Minho's arm encircles your waist, how your head rests against his chest - is so sweet. It reminds him of the depth of love and commitment that binds you together, a stark contrast to the coldness that had crept into your interactions lately.

Chan reaches down, tenderly brushing a strand of hair from your face. His touch is feather-light, a silent vow to himself to mend the threads of your relationship that he's held too loosely. The small action makes you stir, and your eyes flutter open, meeting his in a sleepy state.

"Channie," you mumble, your voice thick with sleep. "You're back early."

He nods, his hand moving from your hair to gently squeeze your shoulder. "Couldn't stay away too long," he admits, his voice low and warm. "I missed home."

Minho stirs next to you, his eyes opening to Chan's familiar presence. "Hey," he greets, his voice rough with sleep "We were just waiting up for you," Minho teases lightly, though the crinkles by his eyes show his sincerity. He sits up, adjusting the blanket over you, ensuring you're still covered and warm.

Chan chuckles softly, the sound soothing the lingering edges of his earlier anxiety. "It looks like you did more sleeping than waiting," he observes gently.

"Join us," you say, patting the space beside you. 

As Chan settles beside you, the weight of the past weeks—the misunderstandings, fears, and pain—seems to lift slightly. Together, you sit in the soft glow of the room, the silence comfortable, filled only with the soft sounds of your synchronized breathing.

As the evening deepens into night, you all decide it's time to move from the sofa to the bed. Hand in hand, you help each other tidy up the living space before heading to the bedroom.

You all get comfortable in bed, Chan, in the middle this time, turns to face each of you, his eyes holding a soft light. "Thank you," he whispers, his voice barely audible. "For this. For us."

Minho reaches to squeeze his hand. “We love you, Channie.”

“I love you too,” he smiles happily.

-

Chan had suggested it: a quiet evening out, just the two of you. You agreed to the promise of a few hours solely with him, which sounded too good to pass. Chan suggested a small restaurant by the river, one that promised a breathtaking view.

Now that the evening is here, you feel nervous, a soft flutter in your stomach. It reminds you of the early days, the first few dates, and the awkward dance of not wanting to choose between Minho and him. You spend quite some time picking your outfit, wanting to feel beautiful and hoping to see the spark in Chan’s eyes you haven’t seen in a while.

Chan is not one bit less nervous than you are, choosing a simple but elegant shirt he knows you like. When he sees you, ready and waiting, his breath catches in his throat. “You look so beautiful,” he manages, his voice rough with emotion. The sincerity in his gaze and the slow smile covering his lips make your heart beat faster, and your eyes water a little.

“Thank you,” you whisper. “You look quite handsome yourself.”

“Thanks,” he smiles shyly, blushing a little.

The drive to the restaurant is quiet, with music playing in the background. Chan parks near the river just as the sun is slowly dipping below the horizon, painting the water with a golden glow.

Hand in hand, you walk to the cozy restaurant, which has soft lighting and a gentle, nonintrusive conversation. You choose a table near a window with a view of the river, now shimmering under the first touches of twilight.

You two fall into easy conversation as you eat, yet beneath the lightness of their conversation, deeper topics linger at the edges, waiting.  "Y/n," he begins, his voice serious but gentle. “I know things have been tough. I know I've been... distant. Not because I want to be, but because I've been scared - scared of doing the wrong thing, of saying the wrong thing."

"Chan, I understand. I’ve been feeling overwhelmed, too, scared of pushing you away or making things harder for you,” you admit gently.

“I never meant to feel like you couldn’t come to me…or that Min is more important to me,” he tells you guiltily. 

“I know,” you reply, reaching across the table to squeeze his hand. “But we're here now, and that’s what matters. We can find our way back together.”

Chan’s smile returns, his eyes lighting up as if a weight has been lifted. “I’d like that. A lot.”

As dinner comes to an end, Chan suggests a walk along the river. The cool breeze from the water is refreshing, and the rhythmic sound of the waves against the shore is soothing. 

“Look at the moon,” Chan points up, and you both stop to gaze at the full moon, casting a silver glow over the river. It’s beautiful and peaceful, and for a moment, it feels like everything is right in the world.

“It’s gorgeous,” you comment, leaning into him.

Chan wraps an arm around your shoulder, pulling you closer. “Not as gorgeous as you,” he says, which makes you both chuckle.

The moment feels right, and you stop walking and turn to face him. “Chan, thank you for tonight. It means a lot to me. I’ve missed just being with you like this.”

He cups your face gently, his touch tender. “I’ve missed it, too—more than I realized. Let’s not let it go again, okay?”

“Okay,” you agree, and he leans in to kiss you softly and sweetly under the moonlight by the river.

On the drive home, the car is filled with comfortable silence. A song that you both love comes on the radio, and Chan reaches over to turn it up. You smile and start to sing along quietly. He joins in, and soon, you’re both laughing and singing at the top of your lungs.

Chan parks the car in front of your house and turns to you with a giddy smile. You smile softly, leaning over to cup his face. “My beautiful Channie angel,” you whisper, and he blushes a little. “I love you so much.”

“I love you too,” he smiles shyly. “My sweet baby girl.”

Minho greets you with a gentle smile as you step inside. “Had fun, you two?” he asks gently, giggling surprised as you give him a long, soft kiss. “Hey, darling,” he whispers adoringly.

“Come cuddle with us?” you plead softly, making him laugh.

“Please?” Chan asks sweetly, kissing his cheek.

“Fine, fine,” he laughs. “Go get ready for bed, I’ll be there in a bit,” he promises.

Not much later you’re all comfortable in bed. You’re in the middle, feeling safe between them. To your left, Minho’s warmth is a comforting pressure against your side, his arm thrown loosely over your waist. His fingers draw mindless patterns on the fabric of your nightshirt. Chan’s body is curved around yours protectively, his breath softly tickling your neck. Minho shifts a little, brushing a strand of hair from your face. His eyes meet Chan’s in a silent agreement of how much they love you. 

“Comfortable?” Minho asks softly, barely above a whisper, as if he’s scared of speaking too loudly.

“Very,” you nod, agreeing. You turn your head slightly to smile at him, reaching to touch his cheek. Chan responds by tightening his embrace around you, his hand splaying across your stomach, grounding you.

The room falls into a comfortable silence, the only sounds are the soft rustling of the sheets and the steady, rhythmic breathing of three hearts in sync. You find yourself tracing the lines of Chan’s hand after a while, feeling the strength and warmth of his fingers intertwined with yours. Minho, feeling a surge of affection, leans over to plant a gentle kiss on your forehead, then Chan’s jaw. Chan smiles at the gesture, a small, happy sound escaping his lips. It feels perfect.

PART EIGHT | PART TEN (coming soon)

do not repost, translate, or plagiarize my works in any way here or on other platforms. ©️writingforstraykids 2024 -

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[themousefromfantasyland]

Megalopolis Review, or, Why Nobody Seems to Realize the King is Naked

Brace yourselves, this will be a long post @ariel-seagull-wings @thealmightyemprex @the-blue-fairie @mask131 @tamisdava2

Today I watched Francis Ford Coppola’s Megalopolis and never has a movie made me so frustrated and irritated as I’m now. 

The film is absolutely awful. Not in a so bad it’s good but in a so awful it’s awful. Pardon the language but not even if Coppola broke into my house and shit on my face I would be as angry as I am for him having made this movie. 

But let’s go in parts.

The Premise

The film is a mixture between soft sci-fi and magical realism. We are in an alternate universe where the United States is a direct continuation of the Roman Empire and New York city is instead the capital of the empire, New Rome. 

Cesar Catilina is a brilliant architect and scientist that gained a Nobel Prize for inventing the Megalon, a miraculous substance capable of doing anything. Cesar is a mysterious and lonely genius, with a mysterious past involving an accusation of murdering his own wife and the power to stop time itself. 

He wants to use the metal to rebuild New Rome into a utopia, Megalopolis. Because of that he wages a political battle against the mayor of New Rome, Franklyn Cicero, who wants things to stay the way they have always been. The Mayor has a daughter called Julia, and she falls in love with Cesar. Meanwhile a gossip reporter called Wow Platinum has her eyes on both Cesar and his rich uncle, while Cesar’s cousin, Clodio, a decadent playboy wants to destroy Cesar once and for all.

The Problems

Now that we went into the premise of the movie, let’s see in all the ways this premise falls apart

1 - The Film as a whole makes no sense

Film is art, and art doesn’t need to fit in traditional plot structures or pacing styles. 

But art is about communication. An artist has to communicate ideas, feelings, and impressions to their public. A piece of art that can only be understood by its creator is a bad piece of art.  

A good film, as a good piece of art, has to have the minimum of coherence and cohesion to express the ideas, feelings, and impressions of the filmmaker to their public. If the movie is unable to do that, then the movie is a bad piece of art. 

A good film has to either have coherent story, characters, or at least themes.

Megalopolis doesn’t have either of those.

Megalopolis has a complicated plot filled to the brim with pointless characters and it goes nowhere. Some of the characters are killed off in cut-way jokes and the climax happens in the last twelve minutes of the film. The film lasts more than two hours, and still feels rushed, with scenes that feel missing and scenes that seem superfluous.

It has long surreal sequences that don’t fit the characters, the themes or the story. It’s weirdness for weirdness’ sake. It means nothing. 

The characters are painfully shallow and have nothing to say but famous quotes and juvenile language filled with profanity. 

The film draws painfully long scenes quoting Shakespeare among other writers and philosophers, trying to say something deep about humanity, civilization, politics and the pursuit of utopia, but everything that comes out of it is shallow and contradictory.

In some points Cesar’s desire to build his utopian city is framed as almost an act of anti-consumerism and anti-materialism, vices that are endorsed by Mayor Franklyn Cicero. But then Cesar demolishes several apartment buildings, leaving hundreds homeless and hungry, and the movie almost becomes Atlas Shrugged, where the genius has to rise above the stupid masses that drag him down. 

Cesar’s jealous cousin, Clodio, is built as a Trump stand-in, but then his politics are about helping the immigrants and the poor against Cesar’s plans. And he openly dresses in drag. 

In some way, Clodio is a mixture of Trumpism, Occupy Wall Street and Black Lives Matter in a single character, ignoring the obvious ways these ideologies are completely different from each other.

In the end Cesar gives a passionate speech to the crowds that Clodio aroused, and it’s no deeper than Facebook messages of “We can disagree politically and still be friends”.

The film has a lot to say about culture and politics, but with a simple glance you realize that Coppola doesn’t understand neither politics or culture. 

Megalopolis is a film that has a lot of things to say about humanity, culture, and politics, and almost everything is pure gibberish.

2 - The film is misogynistic, biphobic and a little bit transphobic.

It’s no wonder that Coppola took almost 30 years to finish this film, because the script has the trademarked sexual prejudices of the 1980’s. 

Only two female characters are really important in this story, and they role seem to reinforce the madonna x whore dichotomy that Coppola seems to believe in.

We have Julia, our madonna. She has a Mary Magdalene complex. She’s initially presented as a shallow, decadent socialite, who only knows how to party all day and kiss passionately her female friends. She is implied to be bisexual, but her bisexuality is presented as just another vice of the decadent elite of New Rome.

Then she meets and falls in love with Cesar and becomes nothing more than his love interest. She becomes the one responsible for his moral support. Her bisexuality is stripped away and she is resumed to nothing more than  a supportive wife.

Then we have Wow Platinum, a gossip reporter that marries Cesar's uncle, is interested in Cesar himself, and has sex with Clodio, Cesar's cousin. She is a shallow gold digger and the film uses every chance it has to slutshame her. She is a typical femme fatale without any nuance or complexity, a disgusting sexist and demeaning caricature without any depth. 

And then we have Clodio and his drag scene, and just like Julia, his crossdressing is presented as just another form of the decadence of New Rome.

3 - Vesta

There’s a plot point that comes out of nowhere and goes nowhere. 

New Rome has a pop star called Vesta, and she is meant to mirror the Vesta priestesses of Ancient Rome. She is clearly modeled after Taylor Swift. 

Clodio forges a video of Cesar and Vesta having sex, and since Vesta is a minor, he is arrested. But then Julia discovers that Vesta was lying about her age and is actually a 23-year old woman. After her true age is revealed and after the video is revealed as fake, Vesta reinvents herself as a provocative pop-rock star.

This whole plot point lasts ten minutes and has no bearing on the overall story.

I know for sure that it was written in the late 2000’s, because more than being inspired by Taylor Swift, Vesta is inspired by the transition that Miley Cyrus had from sweet Disney girl to provocative pop star. 

It’s very creepy and off-putting considering everything that we now know about how Coppola deals with young women.

Honestly it just feels like he wanted to fuck Miley Cyrus and Taylor Swift back in 2010. 

4 - It’s just a giant ego trip

Only one thing is consistent in Megalopolis, how Cesar is portrayed as a genius that has to fight to have his vision of utopia come to life, and it’s obvious how he is an author self-insert.

It’s so annoying and irritating watching Coppola worship himself for over two hours.

He paints Cesar as this tragic figure that is misunderstood by society and how everyone should just listen to him. How he is a genius that has all the answers to solve humanity’s problems.

It’s the equivalent of watching Coppola masturbating while looking at himself in the mirror for two hours. 

The King is Naked

Listen, I too was at first excited about Megalopolis. I wanted this project to succeed. I wanted to see a creative and bold vision. I wanted to see more authoral cinema. 

But Coppola is just a rich creep with delirious visions of grandeur. 

He used this film to worship his obscene ego and to sexually exploit extras on his set.

And now I see people trying to find excuses for him, or trying to defend this thing.

Listen, if you found something positive about Megalopolis I respect your opinion, but this film is a huge piece of shit made by a more gigantic piece of shit, and his talent and past accomplishments can’t excuse this.

The film is awful, the director is awful, and the king is naked. He doesn’t need protection. 

Can we be totally sincere with this film? At least with ourselves?

I want to see films that are original and take risks, but I want from creators who aren’t megalomaniacs, sexual perverts or that at least can develop coherent ideas. 

[rekino2114]

can you do fem denji x male reader

Fem. Denji getting jealous

A/n:normally for a genderbent post I'd change the name to a feminine version of it but I can't think of anything for denji so it stays like that, also credit to x.zora.k on Instagram for the art.

"Look at that bitch, shamelessly flirting with my man"

"You can't even hear what they're saying"

You and denji were on a date (aki came along to make sure she behaved) when a girl she didn't recognized approached you and started talking to you, apparently you knew her so you two started walking away and talking with each other, which made your girlfriend very very angry.

"I don't need to, look at how she's acting, she's definitely flirting with him"

"I think she's just being friendly"

"As if, I know flirting when I see it"

"Like I said, you can't even hear it"

Denji ignored aki's words and started glaring even deeper at the girl

"What is it?"

".......my bobbs are bigger than hers right?"

"............I'm leaving"

"IT WAS A GENUINE QUESTION, I can't let her take y/n from me"

"And that's what you care about?"

"Obviously"

"*sighs* I need a cigarette"

"You can go get one if you want I'll just-.....*gasp* OK THAT'S ENOUGH"

The chainsaw hybrid was one step away from pulling the string on her chest before being stopped by aki.

"Stop. What happened?"

"DIDN'T YOU SEE THAT? SHE WAS HOLDING HIS HAND, THAT'S WAY TOO FAR"

"That's still no reason to try and kill her"

"B-but what if she's a devil trying to gain his trust to kill him"

"I find it highly unlikely, but go ahead if you want just know that I won't object to any punishment miss makima decides to give you"

"Ugh- fiiiine"

The blonde girl couldn't do anything but groan while waiting that you finished your conversation (while aki went away to not deal with whatever was about to happen)

"Hey babe, sorry if I took too long, we can continue our date now"

"You expect me to act as if nothing happened? You ditch me just to go hang out with some flat chested slut?"

".......she's my sister"

"And I'm not finished yet if you-........wait what?"

"Yeah, she came to Japan without telling me, it's been over two years that I don't see her so I just got so excited, I'm really sorry for what I did though, I should have prioritized you"

"N-no it's fine I should have been more trusting of you"

"Oh were you jealous?"

"Heck yeah I was, she was holds your hand, I should be the only girl allowed to do that.....I-I mean except family members I guess"

You giggled and approached your girlfriend then held both her hands in yours

"Is this better?"

"Yeah thanks"

"I think I know one way to make you realize you're the only girl I love"

You kissed her deeply and after a moment of surprise denji melted into the kiss not letting your mouth go for a while.

"Shit, that felt good, alright you're forgiven"

"I'm glad, how about a cuddle session to make it up to you even more"

"Yay cuddles!"

You held her hand and you started walking together, denji put her head on your shoulder to admire you with a bit of guilt in her eyes.

"Hey, sorry for earlier again, I wanted a boyfriend for so long, so when I got you, I guess I was scared of losing you"

"It's fine, jealousy is totally normal...... just don't insult my sister again"

"Yeah, dont worry......My bobbs really are bigger, though."

"*chuckle* you never change, but I guess that's one of the reasons why I love you"

Denji nuzzled into your shoulder and closed her eyes feeling the warmth of your words seep into pochita

"I love you too"

[hotteoki]

boyfriend skz things - happy 1k followers!

notes: this was long overdue so i rushed it a bit, but thank you everyone so so much for 1k! here’s a lil celebration that was not proofread 😭

©️ strayedstars | do not repost

chan (방찬) - flirting

despite being in a long-term relationship with him, chan will never stop complimenting you, opening doors for you, spoiling you with gifts etc. it’s so frequent to the point where the others have long given up on making fun of him, opting for a simultaneous groan whenever the both of you share any type of interaction.

just as chan was about to lean in to kiss you, jisung interrupted from beside you, “the parents are at it again!” this created a trend for everyone to follow, screaming a few “get a room!”s or “not again!”s. chan pursed his lips, “i really look forward to the day i move out.” you laughed, “you don’t mean that.” “no i really do.”

minho (민호) - sending filter videos

it was very well known that minho is an avid filter user, using sending random videos to stays on bubble and laughing about them. little did anyone know, the amount of videos or pictures minho posts online were only 1/5th of how many he sends you. without even counting them, you could confidently say that 90% of your gallery was him with some ridiculous filter.

"min, stop sending me stuff, my storage is running out because of you." minho blinked at you slowly, before turning his attention back to his phone, ironically already filming a video with him as a bumblebee, "no." you laughed, "what do you mean, no? i quite literally have more pictures of you than me on my phone-" "good."

changbin (창빈) - reminding you to drink water

knowing how much changbin cares about his health, it was safe to assume that he would care just as much about yours. before he began dedicating his time in the gym, it was always you reminding him to stay hydrated. changbin used to be the most forgetful person ever, and would always be too busy working to drink water. however, after you switched jobs, you were often too stressed to eat or drink at all. thank your lucky stars that changbin is basically a walking alarm.

a glass of water was wordlessly placed beside your laptop on the desk. "binnie, i just drank some literally 5 minutes ago," you looked up from your screen to meet his stern eyes. "no, you drank a sip of my water over an hour ago," changbin crossed his arms, staring pointedly at the clock. you knew he wasn't going to budge until you finished every last drop of that glass, so you complied, downing the water. it was only then did he smile proudly, kissing your forehead quickly before leaving to wash the glass.

hyunjin (현진) - drawing

everyone knows how much hyunjin loves art, most of the pieces he posts on instagram were of flowers, or sceneries. however, he has a notebook that is dedicated to his drawings of you. he knows how you aren't confident in yourself most of the time, but he's determined to prove you wrong. whenever you were with him, hyunjin would always have his notebook and pencil in hand, ready to sketch you.

"what are you always drawing?" "hm?" hyunjin hummed, gaze still fixating on his pages. "i mean, you're always drawing something, can i see what it is?" his cheeks turned slightly pink from your attention, "i'll show you when i'm finished." "but you work on a new piece every time?" hyunjin paused, thinking of a reply to that, "i'll show you the entire book when i'm done. i have around 11 pages left or so anyway." you nodded, satisfied with that answer. hyunjin smiled to himself before continuing his work on your eyes, he always thought they were the prettiest he'd ever seen.

jisung (지성) - petting

it started off as a subconscious movement, you were pretty certain jisung hadn’t even realised doing it until you asked him why he was stroking your arm out of nowhere. he responded with a blush, moving away before you could stop him. it was when it happened again that you told him you found it adorable, and that was also when jisung kissed you for the first time.

“i never got to ask you,” you said, nudging jisung's foot with yours, earning a hum from him. “why do you always pet me?” the hand that was caressing your thigh halted, before continuing as jisung thought of an answer, “i don’t know. i think i just got used to petting bbama, and now i pet you.” you kissed his cheek lightly, smiling against his skin, “fair enough.”

felix (용복) - baking

it was regular for felix to bake a batch of brownies for the members and staff, and usually they would all be devoured before you could even get your hands on one of them, which is why felix would always bake a smaller batch reserved just for you. sometimes they would have chocolate chips in them, or m&ms, whatever you were craving, they would probably be put in the brownies.

"yah, felix, do you have any more brownies?" minho yelled from across the room. "no, sorry, that was all!" felix called back. "what do you mean? you literally have a box of them right there?" jeongin pointed out. felix immediately reacted, extending his arm until it was out of jeongin's reach, "they're not yours." "they're mine!" you added in, walking over to felix and taking the box from him, kissing his cheek as a thank you. "ugh, not in here," minho recoiled.

seungmin (승민) - taking pictures

much like hyunjin, he's an avid believer of capturing the moment. seungmin carries a film camera with him at all times, knowing that if he used a regular camera, you would ask to see the picture and instantly ask him to delete it. by using a film camera, you wouldn't be able to see the picture, and seungmin would be able to print them out without your knowing, and pocket them in his wallet.

"when did you take this?" you indicated at the picture of you in his wallet, you swore you've never seen that picture before. "a while ago," seungmin shrugged, taking his wallet from your hands. "do you just take pictures of me out of nowhere?" you laughed. "yeah, all the time. i thought you knew that." you blinked, "i did not." "well now you do."

jeongin (정인) - letting you wear his rings

jeongin's usually very reluctant about letting other people borrow his things, but when he saw you trying on some of his rings, he knew he would let you have anything you wanted that belonged to him. it wasn't even a possessive thing, he simply thought that it warmed his heart to know that you loved him so much you would wear a reminder of him every day.

"hey, can i borrow this for tonight? it goes with my outfit." without even looking up from his phone, jeongin nodded, "sure." "innie, you're not even looking," you stated teasingly. he smiled, "i don't need to. you can keep whatever you want." you gaped, "really?" jeongin switched his phone off, beaming at you, "yeah. what's mine is yours. not my clothes though, i need them for my ootds."