#i will draw anything your minds can come up with!

[amdiriel]

lonely pt. 2

Azriel x fem!Archeron!reader

SUMMARY: After a vulnerable moment of comfort, Reader tries to navigate Azriel’s increasingly flirtatious behavior without assuming anything. Because she really shouldn’t. Right?

WARNINGS: FLUFF, slight suggestiveness, a bit of hurt but SO much comfort, not proofread we die like men

NOTE: thanks for so much love on part 1! I have some ideas for new Az fics, so lmk if you're interested in being on my Azriel taglist! xox diri

WORDS: ~4.2k

part 1 main masterlist

•••

It had been about a week and a half since my little breakdown in my room, my cycle coming and going just days after it. I attributed my moment of uncharacteristic hopelessness to hormones.

I hoped Azriel would too, since I had trouble fully looking him in the eye ever since out of embarrassment. After a night of deep rest post-letting-it-all-out, I woke the next morning to a spill of hindsight in my mind, grumbling at my ridiculousness into my pillow. Despite my cycle being a royal pain in my ass, it was a few days where I could hide safely in my room.

So the next few days, I was determined to be fine. I was great, living the dream, no worries here, wielding a grin and a dry joke as always.

The first day after my cycle ending, I wake up to blissful absence of pain in my abdomen, and treat myself to a long bath.

Afterwards, I take advantage of a brisk morning walk, the sunshine making the late winter weather less intolerably cold. I barely get two blocks from the River House before a shadow passes over my head.

I tilt my head back, squinting through the direct sunlight. Then the shadow descends at an alarmingly fast rate and touches down near-silently beside me. “Good morning,” Azriel murmurs.

I jump at his sudden appearance, the bubbling nervousness at his closeness making it more pronounced. “Shit—Azriel,” I gasp, calming myself with a breath. “What the hell?”

He chuckles lowly and nudges me slightly as he matches my resuming pace. “Sorry. Occupational hazard, I’m afraid,” he says, not sorry at all.

I huff and roll my eyes, even as my lips curl up as well. “I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again. You need to wear a bell.” His laugh curls around me.

“I’m not sure it would go with my leathers,” he pretends to muse. “A collar would really ruin the effect of my scariness. Not to mention the whole point of being Spymaster.”

I snort, shaking my head. He nudges me again, drawing my gaze back up to him. I find his eyes warmly on me.

“I’m glad to see you out and about,” he says. “I was worried about you.”

I let the sweet words warm me for a quick moment before I huff a small laugh. “It’s my cycle, not sickness. I’m good.”

He shrugs. “Still. I know it’s much worse for you and your sisters now that you’re all fae. You handling them alright?”

My expression softens. “You’re sweet. I’m fine. I didn’t have much pain as a human, so I think as far as fae cycles go, my pain now is relatively mild. I mostly just don’t want to do anything,” I reply with a shrug of my own.

Azriel eyes me for a moment. “Alright. But you’ll let me know if you need anything, right? I haven’t forgotten about our agreement, you know,” he says with a sly smirk.

It takes a second for it to dawn, but soon a blush blooms on my face as I remember that night. I huff a sigh, finding it within me to laugh a little at myself. “So, what, you want me to come to you any time I have a problem?” I ask dryly.

A smile tugs at the corner of his mouth. “Yes,” he answers plainly.

I give him a look. “Are you now our resident therapist too?” I deadpan. “Your resume’s long enough, Shadowsinger, you can take a pause every once in a while.”

He laughs again, shaking his head at me. “I may be busy, but never for you. Never for family,” he replies, and with such sincerity in his eyes that my steps falter for a moment.

Fuck. What happened to cool and collected, Archeron?

But I swallow and arch a brow. “Sweet. But you’re barely here enough to be able to do so for the many members of our ever-growing household,” I say, thinking about our nephew Nyx.

He shrugs a shoulder, his wings unfurling then furling in a subtle motion that catches my eye. I’d always found them fascinating. “Then how about this—I’ll never be too busy for you,” he says, a note saucily that my widened eyes turn upon his smirking face.

I grasp for words for a moment, and I see his eyes delight at my moment of hesitation. I shut my mouth and switch tactics, laughing. “Why Az, you are positively Rhys-like today.”

His brows raise, expression lighting in challenge. “Oh am I? Enlighten me, sweetheart.”

I bite hard on the inside of my cheek at that damned pet name again. This male just made it so bloody difficult to be dignified at all. I swear, every moment in his presence is a fight for my life. “You’re all—” I gesticulate over his person, “Swaggering. It’s unnerving. Please, for my sanity, resume your duties as our resident brooder. You’re putting me off.”

His head tilts back with a hearty laugh that startles me into astonishment. “Well, we wouldn’t want that, now would we?” he drawls, suddenly feeling like he’s looming over me.

Stupid, tree-like male.

I don’t reply except for a disbelieving huff at his forward behavior. His smirk is self satisfied as he halts, taking a step back with a sketch of a bow.

“You’ll have to resume your walk without me, Ms. Archeron,” he says, and I wrinkle my nose at the use of my surname. His smiling eyes rove over it, dipping to my lips before locking with my own gaze again. “Think you can manage?”

I scoff and manage to flip him off as his enormous wings unfurl and beat his figure into the air. His rumbling chuckle disappears as his shape grows smaller in the sky.

—

The following days, he wasn’t as blatantly swaggering, as I had called him, but he was…

Forward. Disarmingly so.

I couldn’t seem to avoid his presence if I tried, if merely to kick some sense back into myself. First it was the library—when I had settled into the cozy window seat, my usual perch, an hour into my reading, he had strode in his silent yet confident way of his. I had stilled, as if hoping he’d simply not notice me. Fool. He notices everything. And he certainly had wasted no time sidling up to my perch and leaning over to observe what I was reading. His warmth and masculine scent was a pleasant yet oppressive blanket to my poor sensibilities. And I barely survived when he had hummed “Any good?” practically into my ear.

Or there was lunchtime—I’d wander into the kitchen to make something quick and simple for myself, and when I walked into the dining room he’d be sitting there already, looking up with a small, unassuming smile. When he bade simply, “Sit with me”, I had no choice but to obey and eat with him. In my suspicion, I confess that I switched the times I went to get lunch by random intervals, in which each and every time he either was already there or showed up soon after.

I couldn’t tell if it just happened that way, or if he was being overly clever in his intentional variation.

Now, three weeks post-meltdown incident, Azriel had been gone a few days on Cauldron-knows-what business, so I’d loosened up, no longer bracing myself like he could walk into the room at any second.

Which is apparently my folly, since as soon as I round the corner into the dining room one morning, I found him standing at the sideboard, back toward me, making a cup of tea.

I halted, nearly rearing back as my mouth started to form the word shit, but quickly clamping it down. But even the smallest of noise alerts someone as discerning as him.

He turns and calls my name with quiet warmth, and I banish the wince from my face. “Hey,” I say simply. “When did you get back?”

“Last night,” he says, abandoning his tea to draw near. My head tilts back as he stops in front of me. “How have you been?” he asks with a soft smile.

His quiet care is almost more flustering than his forwardness. “Well. Fine,” I answer. “And you? Your mission or whatever successful?”

He huffs amusedly. “My mission or whatever was just fine,” he replies. Then he returns to the sideboard. “Tea?”

“Oh, uh, sure. Just bla—”

“Just black. I know,” he says, throwing a smile over his shoulder at me. I blink in surprise, cheeks pink. He’s been paying close enough attention that he knows that?

Of course he has, dummy. He probably has dossiers on everyone in this city with information down to the way they take their tea, the pragmatic voice in my head deadpans. You’re no exception.

I blink again as he draws near with a second cup, passing it to me. I take it with a small thank you, sipping it gratefully.

Just when I start to squirm on my feet at the silence between us, he speaks. “About what we talked about that night a few weeks ago—” I still. “You’re alright in that regard? And don’t lie, I’ll be able to tell.”

I huff a sound between a sigh and laugh, looking down. “Well, I haven’t had a night as bad as that one since then, so that’s good right?” I say with wry self-deprecation. He doesn’t reply. “But really, I’m alright. Just winter blues, I suppose.”

“No, I don’t think it is.”

I roll my eyes in a small flash of annoyance. “Alright, not just winter blues. But they certainly don’t help. But I’m fine. Really. You did really help that night,” I admit softly.

I don’t really notice my teacup is empty until he gently takes it from my hand and sets it next to his already abandoned cup. “What helped most, sweetheart?” he asks gently.

My tongue felt stuck to the roof of my mouth—speaking my vulnerability aloud both impossible and foreign. Letting him in last time didn’t hurt. It helped, a small voice whispers in my head.

I take a breath. “Just—talking through it. Physical touch too, um…” I fight to stay steady. “It’s grounding.”

He hums, nodding. There’s a light touch to both my elbows, and my eyes shift down to find that he’d silently reached for me. I allow the touch, but don’t dare go further, suspended in the fear of the unknown.

“You don’t have to be afraid to ask for that,” he murmurs quietly. Suddenly I’m very aware of the air we’re sharing, how close he’s gotten to me. His hands slide slowly to my upper arms, my breath hitching as the warmth of his palms bleed through even my heavy sweater.

The panic sets in before I can think this interaction through, before I can rationalize that maybe, just maybe he wants to be close to me, wants to touch me. Instead my eyes find the clock and seize the subject change before me. “Don’t you have Valkyrie training in five minutes?”

Azriel stills and follows my gaze to the clock. His jaw works once before the fleeting tension is gone. “You’re right. I should go.” He squeezes my upper arms gently before letting his hands drop. “Stay warm today. Wind is supposed to get bad, and temperatures will drop rapidly once the sun sets.”

I nod, giving him a brief smile. “Of course, you too. Stay warm, I mean.”

He returns my smile before leaving the room.

A whoosh of air leaves my lungs as soon as I’m alone again. Idiot. Silly, foolish girl.

—

Azriel was at his wits end.

He’d been pulling far more stops than his usual personality allowed, hadn’t he? She was certainly clever enough to notice that he was acting much differently around her, right? Had he just not been forward enough?

And still, she did not allow him closer, as close as two people could be. He'd given her every sign he could think of without embarrassing himself.

Impossible girl. Can’t you understand that all I want is to comfort and coddle you?

He must not have taken care to erase any tension in his expression by the time he touched down in the ring atop the House of Wind, because Cassian’s brows raised upon seeing him.

Azriel just had to cast him a cool look for his brother to relent, though he caught the half-smirk on the General’s face as he turned toward the group of priestesses warming up and began training.

It was during sparring that Nesta finally deigns to sidle up beside him as he watches a match. “So. What the hell’s going on between you and my sister?”

He stills for just a moment before erasing the reaction. He debates lying to his friend, but she’ll call him on it. He doesn't think she’ll warn him off her sister either, so finally he admits evenly, “Much less than I would like.”

The eldest Archeron huffs a laugh. “I appreciate you sparing me a lie. Honestly, Az? My sister is just supremely oblivious, clever as she is. If nothing else has worked at this point, you just need to lay one on her.”

He chokes and turns his head toward her. “I would never. Not without her express permission—”

She snorts, shaking her head. “Gods, males can be so boring. At the very least you need to sit her down and make sure she doesn’t leave until she understands exactly what your intentions are. Then you can lay one on her, if she’s amenable to it.”

Azriel takes a deep breath, letting the words sink into his turbulent mind. “I don’t want to scare her,” he admits after a pause.

“You won’t,” she replies instantly. “She’s not afraid of you, she never could be. In truth, my sister is scared of very little. But based on the fact that she’s never had a romantic attachment before, what seems like indifference is likely just borne out of nervousness.”

“I don’t want to make her nervous either.”

“It’s not you that does. It’s just—being vulnerable. Emotionally intimate with someone,” Nesta says. “Years of fighting with her have taught me that she’ll hide anything behind biting wit or a laugh and joke. I think that’s what makes it all the more difficult to understand.”

He doesn’t reply.

“But speaking not as her sister, she definitely is attracted to you,” Nesta continues. “Speaking as her sister?” He looks at her cool features. “Don’t fuck it up.” Then she stalks away to Gwyn and Emerie.

Azriel forces down a growl. Tonight. He'd do it tonight or hell, he'd go crazy from this dance around the line. He'd spent too many centuries wanting this, wanting companionship for him to squander an opportunity with, at last, a female that he connected so deeply with. A female that seemed to need his touch as badly as he needed hers.

So...yes. He'd had quite enough of waiting.

—

True to Azriel's word, it did end up being very cold today.

I forgo any ideas of taking a walk, but I did end up camping out in the warmth of Feyre's study, taking turns with her to organize some of her paperwork or play with Nyx on the floor. My nephew (and his poor parents) had had some rough nights due to the last dregs of his teething pain, but it was good to see him smiling and playing despite it all. Rhysand stopped in frequently, unable to stay from his mate and son for extended periods of time, and after the fourth time Feyre shooed him out with their laughing, squirming son in his arms.

Our bi-weekly dinner fell that evening. Usually I enjoyed it.

Usually.

The dinner was fine. But I was so chilled that I took the opportunity of warmth from any hot dish passed around to me. I shiver for the upteenth time as Azriel passes me the potatoes.

"Cold?" he murmurs close beside me, and I shiver again. Not from the cold, damn him.

"Freezing," I retort instead, scooping potatoes on my plate. "Doesn't Rhys have this place warded to hell? Why is it so drafty?"

Azriel chuckles lowly. "How do you know that it isn't just you?" he teases.

I shoot him a look. "No, no, Mr. 'Stay Warm Today', I'm quite certain it isn't."

He laughs again, and it warms me only temporarily. I finish before everyone else, per usual. Not only do I tend to eat fast, but I'm also not caught up in constant conversation. Bored, my eyes travel the room, around my friends. My family. Even in my relaxed, two-glasses-of-wine haze, my mind doesn't fail to notice how paired up they all seem to have gotten.

Feyre and Rhys feed a fussy Nyx in his highchair, Rhys's eyes roaming over his mate and child with unrepressed love. Cassian's arm was slung around Nesta's shoulder, my usually stoic sister slumped comfortably into his side. Varian looked down at Amren next to him like she was the most fascinating creature alive, which...wasn't entirely a subjective statement, considering her interesting history.

Even Elain was speaking in shy tones with Lucien, who watched her with amused adoration. I had been so proud of my younger sister for finally realizing that she could just as well choose him as not choose him. They were taking it slow, she'd been telling me recently, but she begrudgingly had found that her mate was, indeed, her perfect match.

But as with all my friends and family, my happiness for them comes at a cost. To myself.

I turn and opened my mouth to chase away the tightness in my chest, but found that the Spymaster next to me was turned away, engaging Mor in conversation on his other side.

I quickly clamp my mouth shut and instead go for my wine.

Gods, hadn't Feyre mentioned there was some sort of will-they won't-they situation between the two of them? Something that had been brewing for the five centuries they'd known each other? It was none of my business, of course, and I hardly paid attention, but even I noticed that it had been pretty consistently they-won't in the past few years of living here.

Right?

Azriel laughs at something she says, and suddenly I feel sick.

Cauldron. Was I going to be the only one left?

And even worse—had I also been imagining his forwardness with me as of late?

There's a rushing in my ears and I tune out completely, going blissfully blank.

I hardly recall cleanup. Or the migration to the living room. My body seems to draw itself to the fireplace, a hand lifting to drag a blanket off the back of an armchair as I settle on the floor before the flames.

And as I wrap the blanket around myself, shivering minutely, I can't bring myself to look at what I know I'll find behind me—each couple in the house cuddling for warmth.

—

Azriel's heart aches at the sight of her vibrating form in front of the fire.

He'd taken his place behind the armchair she usually sat in, hoping to finally coax her into having a conversation in the privacy of the hall. Or if things went well, his bedroom.

But instead he watched her walk as if unawake from the dining room to the fireplace in the living room. Unblinking. Not looking at anyone else.

He doesn't know what to do.

He also doesn't realize that a shadow had flitted to her until it came slinking back to his shoulder, whispering, Upset. Crying.

His heart broke. Oh, sweetheart.

He felt suspended in air, in time for a moment. Everyone was lounging, cuddling in their respective pairs, speaking quietly with one another. Distracted. So he took a gamble.

And silently pushed forward.

—

I felt him before I heard or saw him.

I lock up as I feel his warm body settle on the rug, not quite directly behind me, but not quite beside me either.

His touch was warm, intentional.

Mother, I needed intentional touch so badly.

I hadn't realize how upset I had gotten until the first cold tear spills down my cheek. I wipe hastily at it.

"Hey," he coos softly in my ear, his arm coming firmly around me and drawing me into him. I sniff, shooting a panicked glance over my shoulder since everyone was in the room right now. I barely register that his wings block any sight of the two of us from the rest of the room before his gentle hand guides my chin back to look up at him. "No one can see, sweet girl," he murmurs. "You're alright."

The lump tightens painfully in my throat as a second, third tear spill down my face. "Sorry," I mouth, unable to get any sound out.

"Stop," he whispers gently. "You're alright. You're safe." His hand slides to the back of my head and I let myself be guided to the shelter of his embrace, once again in his lap as I silently shake. "Are you feeling that way again?"

I nod silently.

He sighs. "Sweetheart. Why don't you just let me in?"

I untuck my wet face from his shoulder to glance confusedly up at him. "I...I am," I breathe. "You're—you're hugging me."

He shakes his head, cradling my face with both hands. "I mean: why don't you let me into that head of yours? That world? Most importantly, why can't you just let me into your heart?"

Said heart seems to stutter and stop beating.

There's a long moment where my lips don't form words, don't do anything except lay parted, slack. "What do you mean?" I finally blurt, a note of tightness in my voice.

His jaw works and he sighs heavily through his nose. "Sweetheart, is it so impossible to understand that this whole time you've found yourself lonely at the sight of everyone paired off that maybe I want to be that person for you? Your person?"

"Wh—you?" I sputter on a whisper as everything dawns, hell, practically crashes down upon me. The denial comes a split second after. "No."

"Yes."

My expression shutters in emotion. "There's no way—"

"There is," he murmurs with an adoring smile on his handsome face, thumbs brushing at my tears. "And you can't change that, ever. But what you can do is let me in."

I take a shuddery breath, in and out. "Let you in?"

He nods.

"Be my person?" I croak. "And I be yours?"

The words seem to have an effect on him, his chest puffing for a moment before deflating again. His hands cradle my face like I'm precious. I've never felt more so than in his lap. "Yes, sweet girl. Mine. And I, yours."

A release another uneven breath, feeling my body go warm all over. "I—I never thought that I...that you could want this with me. Could want me," I rasp.

He smiles. "But I do. I have for a long time."

I let out a little wet laugh. "Gods, I—" I shake my head. "I don't feel like asking questions right now. I've wanted you too, for so long. I just didn't want to delude myself, to make a fool of myself in front of you when you're so..."

He raises a brow but his eyes remain warm. "So?"

"So perfect, damn you," I finish, no real malice behind my words. When he laughs this time, I feel it seep directly through my chest and into my soul.

"You're the perfect one, sweetheart," he murmurs, and presses a kiss to my hairline like he had those weeks ago. "In more ways than one." He draws back to look at me, and I return his gaze with nothing but openness, with love. Then he breathes, "May I kiss you?"

Heat blooms across my cheeks, but I give him a little nod. "You may."

He dips his chin ever so slowly, and when his soft, full lips finally meet mine, my eyes slip shut. Tentative, and so gentle with me, he dares his tongue over my bottom lip. Though I feel like I have no idea what I’m doing, I let him through.

The first swipe of his tongue, this hungrier kiss sets my soul ablaze, his hands travel to wrap around my waist, drawing my chest against his.

We kiss quietly yet needy for Cauldron knows how long. All I know is that I’m breathless, fuzzy, and light by the time I draw away softly. He chases my lips a moment more before settling his forehead against mine.

Breathing the same air.

A giddy smile tugs at my features, and I giggle with blushing embarrassment. “They definitely know what’s going on,” I whisper, fighting the urge to peek. He chuckles lowly and draws me closer, depositing a kiss on my shoulder, my jaw, then my lips.

“I sent them out,” he replies. My brows raise. “I told Rhys mind-to-mind that if he didn’t get everyone out, I’d quit.”

A laugh bubbles up within me. “Liar. He just decided to have mercy on us. On me, at least.”

Azriel grins, and it’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. Boyish. Free.

“Kiss me again,” I whisper. And he does.

That night, he takes me to his room, scooping me under the covers and into his body. I’m too wired, too happy to fall asleep right away. It’s when I watch him slip into dreamland, the most relaxed I’ve seen him, that there’s a tug within my chest.

A soft glow flickers to life deep in my soul. I smile and let the tears fall as I feel what I think is the bond.

I settle in. I���ll tell him tomorrow.

•••

NOTE: i hope you enjoyed reading it as much as i did writing it! i have an idea for a short series taking place post-ACOSF, where Reader is part of a group in Montesere that’s sort of adjacent to the Valkyries, and she comes to visit the Library, so I’ll start drafting if anyone is interested k love you bye! -diri

TAG LIST: @lilah-asteria @salvatoresister1 @a-courtof-azriel @thestartitaness @casiiopea2 @kk191327 @missxmarvelous @saltedcoffeescotch

[tfwbluu]

PAIRING — ni-ki + f!reader

WARNINGS — reader tries taking control but dom!riki at the end tho, reader’s younger; some use of oppa, sucking him off while he’s playing games with others, raw sex (wrap it up), choking, drooling, cockwarming, he calls her slut once, cum eating (?).

WORDCOUNT — 0.8K

NOTE — finally have some free time to work on this (◞ ⸝⸝ ◟ ) not beta or proofread, lmk if i missed anything in warnings ! it’s a bit shorter than my usual but yems hope its fine.

You were bored out of your mind, tossing and turning in Riki’s bed while he played games with his members. The clicking of his keyboard and the sound of their conversation were the only noises filling the room. You had tried convincing him to come to bed with you, but nothing seemed to work.

Growing frustrated, you finally decided to approach him. He paid you no attention as you settled quietly beneath his desk, resting your cheek gently on his knee. The small action caught his attention for a brief moment, but he quickly refocused on the game, leaving you pouting in frustration.

As much as you wanted to deny it, you were feeling needy—and the sight of him in grey sweats wasn’t helping. Teasingly, you let your hand trail over to his thighs, your touch slowly moving upward to brush against his soft length. You felt it stir under your hand, gradually coming to life as it hardened.

You heard him try to stifle a groan, and the sound only encouraged you to continue. Tugging at the hem of his sweats, you waited for him to lift his hips, which he did to make it easier for you. Once his cock was bare, you teasingly took it in your hand, giving gentle kitten licks to the tip. Riki tried his best to stay focused on his game, but his shallow breathing betrayed him. You wrapped your lips around the tip, drawing a soft moan from him.

“You okay, Riki?” a voice asked from his headset.

“Y-yeah, just hit my knee against the desk,” he replied shakily, glancing down at you.

Your teasing puppy eyes met his, and you continued your ministrations, moving your mouth farther down his length as you bobbed your head up and down. One of your hands slipped lower, attending to your own growing arousal. You hummed against him, sending vibrations through his body, causing him to twitch as you continued teasing, trying to take control of the situation.

“Sorry, guys, I gotta go. I’ll be back in a bit,” he suddenly said, his voice strained. It didn’t take long for him to remove his headset, muting himself before finally turning his attention to you.

Gripping your hair, he pulled you off his cock, leaving a trail of drool connecting your lips to him. “You’re such a needy little slut, aren’t you? Thinking you can take control like that,” he said, his tone dripping with dominance as his hand slid from your hair to your neck.

“You keep ignoring me,” you pouted, your protest cut short as he tapped the tip of his cock against your lips.

“Well, here’s your attention,” he taunted, smirking. “Now be a good girl and sit still, hmm?”

Without waiting for a response, he pushed back into your mouth, this time thrusting deeper as he kept your hair tightly in his grip. You gagged slightly around him, feeling drool slip from the corners of your mouth and drip onto the floor, your body trembling as you tried to keep up with his pace.

“Tsk, leaving such a mess,” he muttered, pushing deeper into your throat until the tip hit the back, making you let out choked up noises. You took him without resistance as he used you, the tension building quickly until he spilled his release down your throat.

“There you go, swallow it, baby,” he commanded. You obeyed, swallowing and showing him the proof, earning a smirk. “Good girl.”

Pulling you up to your feet, he quickly slipped your panties down, his movements swift and deliberate. “Fuck, you’re drenched,” he groaned, watching your arousal coat your puffy folds. He ran his fingers over you teasingly making you moan gently before positioning you over his lap. In one smooth motion, he guided you down onto his cock, the angle making him hit deep inside you.

“Ngh… oppa…” you whined, trying to move your hips up and down, desperate for more. But his hands gripped your waist tightly, holding you in place and stopping your movements.

“Shh. Stay quiet and wait ‘till I’m finished, baby. Maybe then I’ll reward you with a good fuck, hmm?” he teased, thrusting up into you gently before going completely still, leaving you aching with frustration.

“Hi, sorry, I’m back,” Riki said casually into his mic, his tone unaffected as he slipped his headphones back on and resumed playing his game as if nothing had happened. You squirmed, trying to find relief in the smallest of movements, but he stopped you every time, forcing you to wait.

After what felt like an eternity, he finally logged off, turning his full attention back to you. “Now, since you’ve been such a good girl and waited, let oppa focus on you,” he said with a sly grin, guiding your hips to move up and down on his cock.

“Oppa…! Mhm.. f-fuck… feels so good~!” you cried out, your relief finally spilling over as he let you move at last.

“That’s it, fuck yourself on me like the needy girl you are,” he growled, gripping your waist firmly, guiding your hips to move, finally letting you chase the release you’d been denied.

The room filled with the sound of your muffled cries and his heavy breathing as the torturous wait gave way to overwhelming relief, your body finally giving in to everything you had been craving.

PERM TAG LIST — @kikidoul @rikiives @contyynishimura @ziiao @lilmarsh-t @bxcndd @laylasbunbunny @d-dilemma

[plip-plap-plop]

The thing with AI is that it never means anything. I could write or draw or paint or punch a rhythm into a table that means something because it’s coming from a mind that believes things and feels things and understand ls things. I can be abstract or incoherent but it’s gonna mean something to someone or at least hold itself together because of where it’s from.

It’s from a being with sensibilities and passions, and to be honest, a lot of people just really like people. They want to see what comes out of your mind because you’re people.

If you’re inclined to strive for skill and realism, do it because that ambition comes out of your soul, and if it doesn’t, find what fun or funny or fucked up work of horror does come from the heart, and echo that to the people you care to show it to.

[nxtt2-u]

kink headcanons ft. OT8 SKZ !

content info — ot8 (individual) x afab!reader, 3.6k words, smut, established relationship in all scenarios

content warnings — nsfw, a shit ton of kinks and scenarios about them, kinks will not be specified to prevent spoiling, swearing, intentional lowercase

notes — this was actually meant for kinktober ‘24, but i clearly never got around to finishing it… whoops. here we are a whopping four months later; enjoy! not proofread. 18+ only, mdni.

★ ──── BANGCHAN

a switch, but leans heavily on the dominant side. usually a service dom, but can get a little mean sometimes.

⤷ BREEDING.

chan gets off so badly to the fantasy of fucking his babies into you. one night when he’s pounding into you with a condom on, he begins to babble when his orgasm draws near — “you’d look so fucking gorgeous all round with my children, baby, fuck!” and you clamp down on him so hard he has half the mind to think his cock might snap in half as he experiences the strongest orgasm of his life. so yeah, it’s safe to say you got on birth control right away & threw away all condoms after that.

⤷ PRAISE.

he loves to whisper sweet things into your ear as he gently pushes into your cunt from behind after a busy schedule. chan loves how you gush around him when his murmured words, coated in sickeningly sweet honey, flow into your ears as he wholly takes you apart with his hands and cock. he loves it even more when you praise him as well! it has a special effect on him when you’re riding him especially — the praise sends his dick jerking within your tight heat as his knees wobble and he keens into where his face is mushed between your tits.

⤷ FACE FUCKING.

this man loathes to hurt you, but when you give him head one time and he accidentally thrusts too deep into your mouth, he can’t help the way he positively throbs at the wet click your throat gives when it constricts around his tip. when you feel the twitch, you moan & quickly pull off just to give him permission to fuck your throat before taking his cock back into your mouth and waiting patiently. the sight and sound of you deepthroating him is so erotic that when he comes, he genuinely gets lightheaded and has to sit down afterward before he collapses from the intensity of his orgasm.

⤷ BONUS!

his fav position is definitely riding. quick, act surprised! he loves to see you work up a sweat in his lap while you struggle to take his cock to the hilt. its so endearingly hot, the way you plea and whine for him to help you work his dick inside, but he just chuckles n pats your ass as a signal to keep going. maybe, if he feels merciful enough, he’ll flip you over when your legs really do give out and pound you til you’re full of his cum.

★ ──── MINHO

dom & brat tamer. has subbed only once with you and liked it so much he got too scared to try it again.

⤷ BONDAGE.

minho often restrains your wrists with his belt or a silk tie he owns when you get particularly bratty with him. he holds them behind your back as he slams into you from behind, and the sight of you restrained just for him, creaming all over his cock despite the rough treatment he loves to dish out, has him seeing stars when he pulls out to come on your back.

⤷ IMPACT PLAY.

it’s no secret minho loves ass: slapping ass, grabbing ass, pretty much anything to do with ass. so it’s no surprise when his palm harshly crashes down on the supple curve of your cheeks when he gives you backshots for the first time. you jolt at the sudden sting, though it burns wonderfully when he does it again. and again. and again, until your skin is red and thoroughly raw once he’s done with you. as your relationship goes on, he eventually begins to slap your pretty face as well, though he’s much more gentle about that. on your rear, however? no mercy.

⤷ SOMNOPHILIA.

min loves nothing more than coming home to you dozing peacefully in those specific sleep shorts, a sign you’re his for the night. even if he’s horribly exhausted from a long day, the sight of you deep asleep and utterly pliant for him has the cogs in his mind gearing into something primal with how much arousal shoots to his cock. he wastes no time in prowling across the room to harshly push the gusset of the fabric aside and immediately slide himself home when he discovers you’re commando and already soaking wet. there’s no way you stay asleep at such rough handling, of course, but that won’t make him stop anytime soon!

⤷ BONUS!

he enjoys anal. when you were out the house, he took one of your dildos in secret and experimented with it on his own, and came out pleasantly surprised. not only does he enjoy it with himself, he also loves anal with you — especially when he gets home after a long day of work to find you all dolled up for him. his cock jerks in his pants when he reaches down to grope your ass in appreciation, only to discover a plug snug between your cheeks. he’d never admit it out loud, but it gets him super riled up to see the way your hole gapes and sputters when he’s done with you.

★ ──── CHANGBIN

a switch, but leans slightly onto the subby side.

⤷ FREE USE.

bin loves to see when you come home from a long, frustrating day at work. he loves to see your eyes darken when you notice the special bracelet on his wrist that shares an unmistakable sign between the two of you, and he loves it even more when you storm across the living room to shove him back onto the couch and pop open the button of his jeans without a word to sink down on his cock like you own it, own him. nothing else gets him harder than when you simply take and use him like your own personal toy!

⤷ PEGGING.

although he does enjoy pegging, the two of you don’t dabble in this often — simply because you much prefer his cock down your throat or in your pussy, milking him dry. but when he does feel subby enough to offer his ass up, it usually leads to very tender lovemaking rather than hard, rough sex. he just gets so soft and needy in this headspace when you peg him, so eager to feel good! in missionary, he often pops a tit into his mouth to softly suckle at as you thrust into him leisurely from above. but it’s never long before he starts babbling and begging you for more!

⤷ ROLEPLAY.

something about taboo roleplays get binnie going like no other: age gaps, power imbalances, and even cheating get his cock rock hard in seconds when the two of you play in the bedroom. recently, the two of you had roleplayed as professor and student. “ah, professor, are you sure this is the best way to get extra credit..?” you’d peered down at him as he eased your short skirt and panties down your legs, chuckling at your bashful behavior. “of course, bun,” he’d sighed, leaning in to press a kiss to your sopping core before meeting your eyes again with a smirk. “your grades will be up in no time if you just spread those pretty legs for your professor, hm? now go on, i’m waiting.”

⤷ BONUS!

loves double penetration, both on him and you. it drives him crazy to see you struggle to take both his coke can of a cock in your cunt and a silicone replica of it down your throat at the same time. watching your cheeks hollow obscenely around the replica has his cock kicking within your walls as you moan around it, and it quickly has him bending your legs to your chest to pound you properly. on the flip side of the coin, he loves how full he feels when you plug his ass and fuck his throat with your strap; it gets his head all floaty n pliant for you in a heartbeat!

★ ──── HYUNJIN

walking definition of a switch. sadist & masochist. can get pretty bratty when he subs.

⤷ BREATH PLAY.

hyunjin loves the tantalizing pressure of your palm against his neck, especially when you ride him so hard he’s practically seeing stars. whether that’s from how hard your ass is slamming down onto his muscled thighs or from the growing asphyxiation, he’s too deliciously lightheaded to even think about it when the two of you go hard like this in bed. when you give his neck one generous squeeze, it has his whole body locking up and him coming instantly with no warning other than a broken, guttural cry. on the other hand, he gets an intense power trip when he chokes you — the way your jaw drops as you gasp for breath when his grip tightens and your pretty eyes roll back to show the whites is so intoxicating to him! he’ll never be able to get enough of the sight.

⤷ TEMPERATURE PLAY.

the way you squirm beneath him is just so cute when hyune rubs ice across your perky nipples while his hot, hard cock spears you open at the same time! when the cubes slip off your breasts onto the sheets beside you, the warmth of his breath fanning over the cold area when he leans down has you squealing and kicking your legs out in protest — but he catches those easily and wraps them around his slender waist to laugh down at how sensitive and responsive you are for him.

⤷ COCK & BALL TORTURE.

the delicious sting hyunjin feels when you slap his cock sends his body shuddering and eyes rolling. his toes curl when you tug harshly on his sensitive balls before rearing your hand back to smack the head of his weeping cock, forcing his hips to kick off the bed with the searing pleasure-pain that has his brain reeling and nervous system going haywire. especially loves when you bust out some cock rings — it’s a perfect night for him when you ride his cock raw, denying him of his orgasm while you have your fun, until he can finally cum inside after hours of his balls being squeezed tight to stave off his orgasm.

BONUS!

big big big fan of markings, both on himself and you! he’s constantly biting marks into the tender skin just below your boobs and the soft inner areas of your thighs when he goes down on you. he really loves it when he gets time off so you can mark him up properly on his neck, particularly below his jaw, so he can go a few days without having to conceal it with makeup and wear and flaunt them properly. his favorite place to mark you, though, is your hips and chest. gets a huge ego boost when he sees them peeking out of your shirt when you wear a low-cut top, and he’s extra smug when you get home later that day to refresh them.

★ ──── JISUNG

sub, sub, sub! rarely doms, and even when he does “dom” it’s more or less him acting the same as usual — like a princess — with the only difference being him doing all the work for once. big masochist.

⤷ MOMMY KINK.

there’s rarely a moment in bed where jisung doesn’t call you mommy. like the sweet boy he is, he always asks you for permission before he does anything. “mommy, please let me suck your tits? i promise i won’t touch myself without your permission, pleaseee?” and with those sweet doe eyes of his, how could you say no? he gets pretty babbly when he’s balls deep in your pussy and his head is mushed between your tits as he whines and cries out his thanks, how good he feels — he’s simply too obsessed with you!

⤷ DEGRADATION.

jisung nearly cums in his pants when you talk down to him like he’s worth nothing to you, like he’s the dirt on the bottom of your shoes. he can’t stop the breathy moans slipping from his dropped jaw when you jerk his slick cock, whispering words in his ears that should humiliate him, but only results in more burning hot arousal pooling deep in his stomach and his balls tightening, eager to spill all over the tight grip of your hand. all his efforts to hold off his orgasm go to waste, though, when you call him a “worthless, good for nothing slut” that has his body abruptly convulsing and cries tumbling from his lips as he cums all the way up to his heaving chest.

⤷ PAIN KINK.

he gets delirious with pleasure when you slap his face or spank him when he’s misbehaved a little too much for your liking. if you pair a harsh slap to his cute, chubby little cheeks with a mean slew of insults to his face as he fucks you in missionary, he’ll wind up keening so loud he has to bury his face in your neck to muffle the sound, lest you get a noise complaint from the neighbors in the morning. the sting of getting hit has so much blood rushing from his head to his cock in an instant that he gets dizzy with how good he feels, every. single. time.

⤷ BONUS!

this man is a munch. he eats you out at any opportunity like a man starved, fast and messy, just the way both you & him love. tug on his hair n it’ll have his eyes rolling as he buries his face into your cunt, eagerly lapping up your the juices that soak his chin with a whine while his hips buck involuntarily against the mattress. degrade him too, n he just might cum in his pants right then n there!

★ ──── FELIX

dom. doesn’t mind subbing if you ask, but it’s generally not his go-to.

⤷ ORGASM DENIAL.

this man is a little shit who adores bringing you right to the edge before ripping your orgasm out of your grasp with a delighted smirk. as soon as he rips whatever he was using on you away, whether it be his fingers or a toy, the way you convulse in protest and plead at him with watery eyes gets him so hot he nearly cums on the spot, even if nothing is actively stimulating his dick. he just loves to tease, what can he say?

⤷ SENSORY DEPRIVATION.

felix has no qualms with playing with you for hours when he blindfolds you and, sometimes, even plugs your ears when he really wants to get you on edge. seeing your breath quicken in anticipation for what he’ll do to you has his cock chubbing up in record time in the tight confines of his boxers, and the sight of you all docile and restrained for him has him half considering the idea of dropping the ties just to bend you over the nearest surface and fuck your brains out. but he always reins himself in just before he can fold, for you always look much prettier disheveled and begging for him to end the teasing and give you what you want.

⤷ HUMILIATION.

he loves making you cream all over his cock just to spew absolute filth at you for it. he can feel his sanity disappearing bit by bit when he gets to witness firsthand the way you slip into subspace at his vulgar, demeaning words in that deep voice of his, and it only gets him hotter when you begin to cry and beg him incoherently. for what, he isn’t quite sure because you’re too far gone to even speak properly anymore, but he’ll make sure you have all you need when you start clawing desperately at his shoulders with a beautiful, full-body shudder.

⤷ BONUS!

he’s lowkey a brat tamer! it gets him so riled up when you purposefully dress in your skimpiest clothes for the group nights you spend going out with the other guys, just to elicit a reaction out of him when you get home. and boy, is that reaction dangerous. he watches you like a hawk throughout the night, tongue constantly poking his cheek in annoyance while his jaw ticks when he sees you laughing with one of his members. he knows he has no real reason to be jealous, especially when he’s already aware you’re just looking to be put in your place, but that won’t stop him from taking all that emotion out on your cunt when everyone leaves later.

★ ──── SEUNGMIN

switch. he doesn’t have a preference & simply enjoys it all.

⤷ EXHIBITIONISM.

the adrenaline rush seungmin gets when he fucks you on the floor of their dance practice room once everyone’s gone for the day is so fucking heady and addictive. the thought of one of his members walking in to find him blowing your back out in the middle of the room is so arousing that he fucks you practically ten times harder than usual when the two of you mess around in semi-public places like this. one time, when you did happen to get caught blowing him backstage right before a soundcheck, his eyes had blown impossibly wide before he spilled down your throat with a choked groan. the two of you were horribly mortified after the fact, but he still secretly gets off to that memory when he’s away on tour.

⤷ DUMBIFICATION.

seeing you gradually lose coherency the longer he has you warm his cock while he busies himself with other tasks is one of his favorite pastimes. “hey, pup,” seungmin taps your shoulder delicately as he lightly jostles you in his lap, causing a moan to flutter from between your lips. when he grabs your chin to press a chaste kiss to the corners of your mouth, he nearly moans aloud too when he pulls back and sees how fucking gone you look. eyes fuzzy, pretty lips pulled into a dopey smile, and pussy stretched warm and wet around his now-throbbing cock. it’s insane to practice restraint with how sweet you look like this. “since you’ve been so good for me, i have a reward for you. how’s that sound, baby?”

⤷ PET PLAY.

when you come home after an outing with your friends to discover seungmin perched on the couch in nothing but the collar with your name attached to it and some dangerously low black sweats, you can’t help but drag him to the bedroom to leash him and force him to sit at your feet while you finish up some papers at your desk. he’s obedient for a little while, like he always is, until he starts getting antsy and whines for your attention. you pay him no mind until he begins to nose at the crotch of your bottoms, eager for a treat, and who are you to deny your sweet puppy a snack after he’s been so good and obedient for you?

⤷ BONUS!

he owns multiple different colored collars that have your name engraved onto the tags as well as a human-sized dog bed to pair with them. when he particularly craves submission, he’ll ask to be leashed and rode in the dog bed because it brings him an odd sense of comfort: being someone’s so wholly that he’s willing to wear a collar to show off who he belongs to, who owns him.

★ ──── JEONGIN

generally a dom. when he does sub, it’s nothing too crazy.

⤷ BEGGING.

jeongin loves to drive you to the point of incoherency with his mouth, hands, cock: all of it! it goes straight to both his dick and his ego when you’re reduced down to broken, babbling cries that beg him for more, less, harder, faster — somehow you plea for them all at once. he can’t get enough of how much you seem to love his body and the pleasure it can provide.

⤷ DACRYPHILIA.

it drives him insane when he sees you writhing with so much pleasure that it actually brings you to tears. every time your pretty eyes begin to water with unshed tears from the unforgiving pace he sets as he pounds into your poor cunt, it makes a loud moan rip from his throat and his dick twitch within your walls, and he may even nearly cum on the spot. he absolutely loves the sight of you desperate and babbling for his cum, and he’s not afraid to show it.

⤷ CORRUPTION KINK.

both of you were the farthest thing from inexperienced or vanilla when you first started dating, but that doesn’t stop jeongin from fucking his fist late at night to the fantasy he was your first. the first man to take your virginity, show you how to ride cock and suck on one, even teach you how to have your first orgasm because you’d been too unsure of yourself in the past to even try. the thought of you being pure and untouched before meeting him makes him ache with arousal, particularly at the thought of corrupting and ruining you for any other man because he just fucks you so good that both of you know you’d never be able to reach the same peaks of pleasure he brings you to again and again with anyone else.

⤷ BONUS!

he really enjoys 69ing. when he’s on top, he loves the sensation of his cock sliding down your throat and the clicking of your throat as it tries to accommodate his length. he loves the way your juices coat his chin as he messily slurps and sucks on your clit, and especially loves the way your thighs shake beside his ears when you get close. when he’s on the bottom, he adores the way you push your hips back onto his face to grind your clit down on his tongue, and adores the way you slip his cock into your mouth until you’re gagging around the tip and your tongue is laving hot and wetly at his balls. the rapid tightening of your throat around his dick has him close in seconds, but even if he comes early he’ll eat you out til you’re shaking with satisfaction.

[cybrasigilism]

girl, hear me out... jun-ho & the reader doin it in a police car... IF NOT, I COULD TAKE FLUFF IDRC OR MIND 🤷‍♀️

girl when i tell you a giggled with GLEE at this request..

Wheels (Hwang Jun-ho X Reader Drabble)

warnings: smut (no shit sherlock) | non proofread | lowercase intended | car sex (so ig public sex too in a way?) | unprotected sex | oral (f + m receiving) | PiV | overstimulation (f) | praise kink | this is my interpretation of this character, please be respectful even if my opinions on the character differ from your own

character: hwang jun-ho (the police officer)

A/N: yk a jun-ho request absolutely hates to see me coming 😈 needed to make this a drabble or i’d go certifiably insane (go listen to VCR/Wheels by Tyler RIGHT NEAOW)

MDNI! 18+ content under the cut, reader’s discretion is advised

── ⟢ ・⸝⸝ ・ ⟢ ──

fucking in the cop car? while being something you yourself have considered a few times since the beginning of your relationship with jun-ho, you always assumed it was something entirely out of the question, especially considering how seriously he took his job. so to say you were shocked when jun-ho was the one to suggest it was an understatement, but you certainly weren’t going to complain.

there were definitely no complaints when you two actually got around to it. now a car definitely isn’t the most romantic of all places to have sex, but you guys for sure made it work. of course, you were going to be on the receiving end of oral first, you knew that jun-ho wouldn’t have it any other way. for some reason, sitting on his face in the fully reclined passenger seat was just ten times hotter. maybe it was the challenge of it all, maybe it was how quickly the windows steamed up, allowing you to leave handprints while you steadied yourself as he ate you out, nevertheless you certainly didn’t want him to stop.

it must have been a special occasion, because this was one of the only instances where jun-ho allowed you to suck his dick. he said preferred to focus on pleasing you, but something inside you figured he was somehow embarrassed of the sounds he made when you let his cock separate your lips. for the first bit, he’d probably try to bite his lip or cover his mouth, anything to hold back his voice. but, if you persist and deepthroat him? yeah he won’t be able to contain himself. now it’s jun-ho who’s steadying himself against the fogged up window, simultaneously grabbing your hair lightly as you try your damnedest to make him feel as good as he makes you feel. he’ll go on about how “i should let you do this more often if you’re gonna suck me this good, fuck” and his moans will be unlike you’ve ever heard them before; lighter, more sporadic, you could definitely get used to this.

you best believe the only way this man is fucking you in the car is if you ride him. the two of you concluded that your go-to position (missionary) would be uncomfortable and impractical if either of you had to lay down in the backseat. even though jun-ho much rathers being on top (in the literal sense), he does get quite touchy while you’re bouncing on his dick. he’ll grab just about anything he can, his main mission is to draw those angelic sounds from your mouth after all. he lets you do most of the work but will occasionally buck his hips up into you if he feels you start to lose your pace, he could very easily just sit back and watch you ride his cock though.

jun-ho will totally praise you throughout the experience, after all why wouldn’t he encourage his pretty girl to continue to fuck him good?

“that’s it, ride me just like that gorgeous”

“don’t stop now, you’re doing so well”

“fuck, if you keep going like this… i don’t think i ever want you to stop”

you guys are both getting overstimulated inside that car, and that is a guarantee. how can you not? when the pleasure is too good, it would be foolish for either one of you to ever want it to come to an end. the more times either of you cum, your rhythm begins to falter, your bodies become shakier and you guys become much more vocal. all of this adds up to making the final climax feel so much better, the last release becomes that much more rewarding.

if this is how car sex with jun-ho looks, then it’s about high time you consider making it a more frequent occurrence.

── ⟢ ・⸝⸝ ・ ⟢ ──

full disclosure, i was totally zoinked writing this so i’m sorry if it doesn’t make a lot of sense. i fear this has been sitting in my drafts for an embarrassing amount of time but here it is!! i apologize for the delay and thank you for reading :)

as usual, any advice/constructive criticism on how i can improve my writing is appreciated and requested!

have a fantastic night/day lovelies 💋

tags: @gongyoosgf @marymustdie @putrescentpoet

[dragonnarrative-writes]

Transferrable Skills Part 8

Transferrable Skills Masterlist

Read on AO3

CW: Smut, 18+/MDNI, praise, kissing, manual stimulation, self-stimulation, oral sex (Simon receiving), premature ejaculation, dirty talk, power exchange, fingers in mouths

Notes: Bambi is not perfectly obedient in this, and Simon loves it. They have a lot of formal protocol, but they are also playful.

It takes a few moments to come back to yourself. One of your hands is still pulling at his pants, and you discover that the other is hooked over his shoulder. Simon is still panting against your face, rubbing the tip of his nose over your cheekbone. You can’t help but purr as you clench around the fingers that are still inside of you.

You slide your hand up under his shirt as you turn to catch his lips with yours. His breath shivers into your mouth as you pet at the hair on his belly, then up his side. He jerks back, pulling his shirt off with a quick motion that makes your mouth water. When you push yourself up onto one elbow to touch, he huffs a heavy breath.

Simon is covered in scars. More than you’d been able to see over video. The silvery reminders of the violence of his life are thrilling in your post orgasm haze, instead of scary. He’s also just thick, barrel chested and wide waisted. He looks real, rough around the edges in a way he never is on camera or in your dreams.

You mean to reach up to tweak his nipple, but your eyes get caught on the way he’s more than filling out his sweatpants. When your fingers dip, instead to tug at the waist, his hand catches your chin.

“You okay?”

Yeah, you should probably say. I feel fantastic. That was probably one of the best set of stretches I’ve ever done. Thank you. Please kiss me some more.

But none of that is actually that important right now. “Can I suck your dick?”

He barks a laugh, even as you watch him twitch in his pants. His thumb presses on your lower lip, drawing your mouth open the slightest bit. “Not sure I c’n last long if you do that. Gimme a minute.”

That strikes your pleasure drunk mind as kind of stupid. You sit up a bit more and lick the pad of his thumb before taking it into your mouth. When his fingers go tight under your chin, you make eye contact, purse your lips and suck. The gut punched sound he makes spurs you on, and you dip your fingers into his waistband.

You pull off to press a messy kiss to the side of his thumb. “Please, Simon? Let me make you feel good?”

“Fuckin’ ‘ell,” he growls, pushing his thumb back into your mouth. When you take it almost to the back of your throat, he groans. “I mean it. Won’t last.”

“Mm-mm,” you agree. Around his thumb, you slur, “Wan’ it.”

Your fingers tugging at his clothes again spurs him into action. If the world weren’t so floaty, you’d whine when he pushes himself to stand off the side of the bed. As it is, you stretch all the way down to your toes and slip a hand down to pet ticklishly over your clit as he starts to strip down. His hands come to a stop, so you look up at him. He’s watching your fingers between your thighs.

“Didn’t say you could be doin’ that,” he rumbles, as he resumes stripping down. “’Ands off.”

You barely hear him. You’ve never had an unobstructed view of Simon’s whole body, before. He’s seen your everything, more or less, but he’s always kept the focus on you. You’ve never seen his thighs, you realize. And the his subpar camera had never done anything to do his cock justice.

Rolling onto your hands and knees, you follow him up the bed as he settles onto his back. Your arms are a bit wobbly, but you want to fall into him, so you do. The course hair beneath his belly button is the first place your lips land, and you can’t help but nuzzle in. He makes a startled sound, but doesn’t stop you.

He smells clean and a bit musky. You don’t resist the urge to kiss the soft pudge beneath his belly button, which jumps when you close your hand around his cock. He’s hot and heavy in your grip, uncut. Not as long as you thought he might be, but thick, like the rest of him. His hips pulse up when you give him a gentle stroke and you hear him bite back a low noise. That won’t do.

You give his belly a quick parting kiss before dipping down to drag your tongue over the head of his cock and take it into your mouth. He’s already so wet for you, salty and bitter as you wrap your lips around him and suck. Simon makes an odd sound, a gasping groan, and squeezes your shoulder in one big hand so suddenly it makes you gasp.

The first jet of his cum splashes across your lips. You’re only able to give him two strokes before his other hand closes around your wrist, so you kiss against him instead as his whole body shivers. He stays hard in your grip, making aborted thrusts as he spurts onto your cheek, once, twice more.

“Fuck,” he finally hisses, “Gentle, Bambi, gentle, ‘n I c’n keep... Fuck.”

You can do gentle. When he loosens his grip, you slide your hand down to the base of his cock and tip forward to take him back into your mouth. You don’t exactly love the taste, but it’s worth it for the way you can feel him throb in your hand, between your lips. The way he whines when you pulse your tongue against the underside of his cock makes you squeeze your thighs together.

You can’t help but peer up the length of his body at him, across the slopes and planes of him to the underside of his chin. He’s pink. You’ve seen him cum before, but you’ve never seen him heave for breath like this. Never felt his hand shake as it strokes over the slope of your shoulder, barely resisting the urge to clamp down.

He could hurt you, if he’s not careful. The fearful thrill of that realization sends a shiver through you. You stifle your own moan by taking more of him, relaxing your jaw to let him slide against the back of your tongue. His hands abandon your skin to ball up into the sheets.

“Fuckin’ ‘ell.” He finally tips his head down to look at you. When his eyes meet yours he huffs a strained laugh. “Look at’chu. Proud of y’reself? Showin’ off, sweet thing?”

You could pull off to answer. Instead, you do your best to swallow with your mouth fuller than it’s ever been.

“Don’t do tha’,” he groans, throwing his head back again. “Gentle, fuck, ‘ave mercy, Bambi. Lemme just...” One of his hands comes up to cup the side of your face, thumb swiping gently over the curve of your cheek. He groans again as you bob down to try to kiss the top of where your hand holds him steady.

You tip your head into his grip and slide your free hand down your body. It’s awkward, not your preferred hand or position, but you can’t not touch yourself. You end up rocking your hips into the pads of your fingers. When you find the right angle, pressure glancing off of your clit, you can’t help but moan.

That gets his attention. When he looks at you again, his eyes dart over your shoulder to where your ass rolls behind you. The hand on your face gets firm, holding you still as he watches you.

“What did I say?”

He said gentle, he said have mercy, so you soften your touch, use the tip of your tongue to play with his foreskin in a way that makes his grip tighten. And then he’s lifting you away, hand gentle even as he curses under his breath as your bottom lip drags over the head of his cock.

“Told you to stop touchin’,” he pants down at you. When you turn your head to take his thumb into your mouth, he takes hold of your chin, pinning your tongue. “Not listenin’ to me anymore?”

He uses the grip on your jaw to draw you up, until you’re forced to use both hands for balance on either side of his wide hips. The hand that isn’t holding you goes under his own head. It’s a distracting flex of muscle that makes his scars ripple.

“Bambi.”

You can’t answer with anything more than, “Ah.” Too late, you realize you’re drooling and close your mouth over his knuckle.

Simon chuckles and strokes the underside of your chin with his fingers. “Need more, don’t you, sweet girl?” He nods your head for you. “Yeah. My girl don’t stop at just one. That’s jus’ got you all revved up, huh? Pretty cunt needs more attention.”

[mrincrediblyblind]

Explaining D&D :0

Because I’m not too sure how many people in the fandom are familiar with the mechanics of the game

It kinda hit me when i was writing an analysis that a lot of people might not fully get the concept of the game as it’s not too clear in the show🧍‍♂️

like, i invited my ex to play D&D with me and my friends last year because we were having a campaign on my birthday, and i asked him if he knew of D&D and he goes “uhhhh, i’ve seen stranger things?”.

Bitch was so lost, he literally said to me “so where’s the Mind Flayer?” 😭

so i have cooked up an explanation :3

⬇️⬇️⬇️

here’s some basics!! 😋😋😋

You have your DM/dungeon master who is your narrator, and the players. The DMs we are shown are Mike, Will and Eddie

every D&D game is a quest of some sort. It isn’t always medieval goblins and demons starting off in some cathedral or tavern.

The books that we see Eddie, Will and Mike have for their campaigns have set story lines, maps, encounters, statistics for fights, etc!

the players have sheets of their characters with strengths and weaknesses

most strengths and weaknesses come from the class (nearly like a occupation) of your character

Standard classes are

- Barbarian

- Cleric

- Bard

- Druid

- Paladin

- Mage

- Ranger

- Fighter

- Monk

- Rogue

- Sorcerer

- Artificer

- Warlock

- Wizard

- Monk

How it works:

Basically, you’re all sitting round a table, role playing as your characters and imagining what the scenes look like.

sometimes theirs visuals to help, like figurines and maps, sometimes audio recordings

some players might draw their character, as Will does

figurines can be anything from clay, 3d printed, store bought or even lego

when my friends and i play D&D, we draw up maps on whiteboards and will draw an “x” or initial to represent where our players would be.

you’ll have a set of dice (images down lower), nowadays there’s digital dice.

you usually roll the 20 sided one to do a standard action. dice rolls get confusing in fights and stuff, but usually you’ll role the 20 sided one.

the higher the number the better, single digit numbers are shit 😭

EXAMPLE OF A GAME!!

The DM gives the backstory of the campaign. (They’ll usually give a brief description of your location and the players connections to one another.)

DM: “you’re in a the town square of Jonoquill Village. The four of you are protectors, yet last night there was an unknown attack on the village, and they stole the expensive crystal from the centre of the fountain”

Player: “can i roll to investigate the area?”

DM: “sure” (keep in mind, the DM can say no if it doesn’t progress the plot or if it’s ridiculous)

the player would then roll the dice. Let’s say our player got a single digit number, 6 perhaps. The DM Can’t tell them much, maybe a brief “you’re in the town square”, something obvious because their roll was bad.

Let’s say our player rolled a 16 though. The DM might say something like:

DM: “Stood with the fellow protectors of Jonoquill village, You see the concrete shattered and chipped, broken violently in a successful attempt to take the town’s beloved gem. The thief’s weren’t messing around.”

The players now have the option to do whatever to complete the campaigns objective. If i was playing, i would try to ask around to find witnesses.

DICE:

You usually have a 20 sided dice (D20), the dice in the last picture, which you roll when you want to do a standard action.

In season 1, when Will rolls to fight the Demogorgan, he gets a seven, which is a bad roll. The higher the number, the better chance of you succeeding with your action.

The party will usually share a set of dice

CAMPAIGNS:

You can make your own campaigns (“Homebrew”), for example, me and my friends are currently doing one inspired by Brokeback Mountain. I’ve DM’d a Coraline inspired one, so it’s anything you want.

In Stranger Things, the DMs use the already written campaigns. These are in the books. They use these so they don’t have to write their own

(Though, the one Will has in the second image looks hand drawn)

The DM usually has beginning plot points and an end objective. They’ll have set locations and scripted characters for the players to meet. The actions determined by the players fall in between and they’ll improvise based on the actions of the party.

They often make notes as the story progresses. The book is commonly stood upright so it stops the players from seeing the notes and knowing what’s happening.

(LOOK AT MIKE’S DICE IN RAINBOW ORDER AHHH!!! click the text to see my post about it :3 )

players have character sheets with inventory, spells, fight moves & combat abilities, also their regular abilities which are based off their character’s species (“race”) and class. They usually write down items they collect on the way, standardly gold for currency and other bits and bobs like weapons

(once, i went a whole campaign with ONLY a tray of lasagna in my inventory)

the stats can add and subtract things to your dice roll.

Character sheets look something like this:

EXAMPLE!!

this is ollie, my bard character

Bards are good with music and commonly known for their good stage presence. Bards in D&D have high charisma

if i were roleplaying as this character, and rolling the dice for charisma, based on my character sheet I might be able to add 1 or 2 to the number shown on the dice

Ollie isn’t very nimble. If the party was doing some mission impossible style laser maze and i were to roll for Dexterity on my character sheet (“physical attributes including hand-eye coordination, agility, reflexes, fine motor skills, balance and speed of movement”) I could have -1, which i’d take off the dice roll.

Anyway, i don’t know if that helps with comprehension of what the fuck they’re doing.

it’s basically a quest and you roleplay and roll dice.

i was just gonna make a seperate post to the analysis i’m doing because this is too long 😭

and i wanted to yap about my interest (D&D)

ASK QUESTIONS IF YOU NEED/WANT CLARIFICATION!!! i love yapping😈 

[dilf-luvr-4evr]

Husband! & Dad! Arthur Morgan headcanons 🥰 idk about this but some people seemed to love the one where reader is pregnant so 👉🏼👈🏼 thank you!!! <3

no warnings, just fluff, mentions of Christianity, f! Reader

from the way he talked to the bath girls, it seems like he’s someone who’d talk to you about how hard his day has been :( he secretly likes to be babied fr!!!

might not be used to having someone listen to him yap at first with his “alright, I’ll shut up now.” But you INSIST on hearing his crazy stories and he smiles, tries to keep going even though he feels bad.

that was the beginning of the relationship. Now he goes straight home to you all, “honey, you would never believe-” and you could tell the gossip is gonna be juicy.

Arthur “loyal” Morgan getting blackout drunk and rejecting you because he’s married. I need him desperately.

“You must have a feller,” he smirks, eyes half lidded and his ‘r’s all slurred.

“Mhm, I do. A very handsome one too,” you played along.

“I got a beautiful wife m’self,” he smiles wide, leaning forward and almost falling. “I’d marry you if I didn’t.”

though you aren’t religious, you tell Arthur that you end up quite lucky in life because you were christened as a baby. You asked him if your baby could go through christening as well, wanting them to have a good start in life with protection from God.

he was still paying off his bounties at the time. Seeing his fate in the past, he decided to agree.

“What the hell, why not,” he said, surprising you. “As long as it ain’t done by Swanson.” He needs all the luck he could get.

HIM AS A GIRL DAD OUGHHHH

I feel like he gets these spontaneous outbursts sometimes? He can be a lil grumpy but his baby daughter would definitely soften that.

imagine him suddenly getting angry at something she did and she starts crying :( it would ABSOLUTELY break his heart and he’d panic every time :(((

“I’m sorry alright? I’m sorry baby girl..” “y’know I didn’t mean that right?” “Please stop crying darlin’ :(”

might also make her cry from his awful, terrible teasing and his stupid “oh c’mon, I’m just messin’ with ya!” He’s so mean sometimes booo

speaking of mean, I just know he’d be the sassiest, judgiest, snarkiest man when his daughter brings home a partner. Imagine the Kieran treatment…………

maybe not if it’s a girlfriend. If it’s a boyfriend? Poor guy will have to prove himself good enough for Arthur’s baby!!!

don’t worry, he’ll soften up when he remembers how he used to be treated by Mary’s dad HAHA

the Morgan house probably has lots of pets! I don’t think he would mind the strays that you and the kids just randomly bring home.

he’d just call them “girl” or “boy” (boah!) and you’d have to fix him or all of them comes over at the same time.

he probably draws his family a lot or takes pictures!!! All of his family’s photos on the walls, by his bedside table, in his journal for when he travels :(((((((

he would only travel when he needs to! Gets very anxious and worried and tries to go home as quick as possible even if it means not sleeping :(

he can sleep later in your arms for as long as you’d let him anyway!!! (Secretly a small spoon sometimes, deal with it)

the biggest sigh of relief when he hears his family welcoming him, when he sees them running to him, when he feels them hugging him (I’m sobbing)

from how the girls at camp make him take them somewhere or get them things, you can tell he’s probably gonna be such a pushover for his little family omg

you can ask him to do the craziest things you could think of (he’s done much worse anyway!!!) but this time his payment is just one “please?” And he would do just about anything for his family :(

he’d never admit it — not even to himself — but your smiles are more rewarding than any money he’s ever received <3

my masterlist

Thank you for reading!! 🫶🏼

[numberonetribble]

That night, Piston snuck out to follow Breakdown home, unfortunately, there were Seekers in the woods and Nova Storm found them first.

Inspired by Depeche Mode: Policy of Truth

You had something to hide

Should have hidden it, shouldn't you?

Now you're not satisfied

With what you're being put through

It's just time to pay the price

For not listening to advice

And deciding in your youth

On the policy of truth

Things could be so different now

It used to be so civilized

You will always wonder how

It could have been if you'd only lied

It's too late to change events

It's time to face the consequence

For delivering the proof

In the policy of truth

My first long form comic!!!! This is canon to Earthspark and how Piston loses their T-Cog. (They live!) Bumblebee loses his voice from crying. Breakdown is resolved to get back to Cybertron for a new T-Cog. There will be a part two! And I also would like to do the Breakdown version that's canon to my Last Mile Marker AU. It's completely different but same vibes.

But this is why I make Piston so goofy, baby isn't even a Cycle old and doesn't know any better. They are my funny little lamb who is happy to be alive. I have alot of things I want to say but I'm really proud of this, I did it over a 3 day weekend so I'm sorry if anything is wonky. (Did you know that the Seekers have hooves?)

Also, I always worry that Bee comes off like he dislikes Piston in my work but I feel like it's more complicated and he doesn't have anyone he can talk to about it. Bee is very much a "I just want to hold my baby" parent but he can't, as Piston is so large and how do you express that out loud? Bumblebee is acutely aware that Piston would've been a child-solider if they were born during the war and it keeps him up at night. He is adamant that Piston never knows what suffering is, and in turn Piston ends up a little too sheltered. Bumblebee and Breakdown argue a lot over raising them. A particularly bad one is when Breakdown wanted to encourage Piston to discover if they had a built-in Stinger like Bumblebee and Bumblebee lost his mind over the suggestion. It doesn't help that Piston wants to be exactly like Breakdown.

In part two I want to draw a poem/musing Ratchet has to himself while repairing Piston's arm. Nova Storm lore in the undercut!

Nova Storm is the Big Bad in The Last Mile Marker AU. She has beef with Bumblebee and takes any opportunity to hurt him. She's a massive hater. Why Nova Storm? I hear you ask. Great question! She's yellow :) With damaged optics and low light, Piston confuses her for Bee at the worst possible moment. But honestly, I wanted a Seeker and I have Megatron and Starscream off doing their own self-reflections and working for the greater good. I wanted someone different with unique motivations and Skywarp is on the Bee-Team. Why does she have beef with Bumblebee? Another great question! During the war, Bumblebee was in charge of a team and one member offlined Nova Storm's conjux. She blames Bumblebee and is out for revenge.

[lalluviadeanoche]

Do yall ever think about how whenever there’s been a particularly bad mission Jason is so distraught that he maybe goes back to crime alley and sits behind the dumpster that he just so happened to use to hide behind that one fateful night?

Yall ever think about how Jason probably sits there for hours, knees to his chest, head in his arms and wonders.. what if he never took those wheels? What if he just turned around and went back home that night? Was this really the life he was meant for?

You ever think about how, as he’s there on the ground, he scoffs and maybe thinks “I would’ve probably died in these streets if I hadn’t taken them.. maybe I was never meant to live. I died either way.”

Ever think about him there, caught in his own mind and Batman happens to stumble upon him during patrol?

He looks down at his son and sees that same scared little kid he saw all those years ago and his heart almost caves in on itself. He tries calling out his name but gets no response.

He slowly crouches down to try and meet his masked eyes and calls his name again with the same outcome. So he slowly and carefully reaches out and tries to take his helmet off without triggering him.

“Jason.. it’s Bruce. Can you hear me? Are you hurt? I’m going to take your helmet off, okay?.. alright how about now, Jason?”

He looks down at his son to see him with tear tracks down his face and a distant look in his eyes and his heart gives another pull. He calls Alfred to prepare Jason’s room and have a hot meal ready and as he does he’s carefully pulling Jason close and trying to get him on his feet.

Jason stumbles a bit before it looks like he’s slowly becoming aware of what’s happening. He looks surprised, yet still dazed, once he sees the other man.

“Bats? What’re you doing here?”

“Come on, son. We’re going home.”

“Home?”

Their voices are low and soft and while Jason is still confused he doesn’t protest and lets Bruce guide him to the Batmobile. Once they’ve reached it Bruce quickly examines him for any critical injuries before putting him in the passenger seat.

Once they reach the manor and have Jason washed and fed they’re leading him to bed. Alfred concluded he had no serious injuries, just the usual bumps, bruises and scratches.

“I think, master Bruce, that our young Jason just needs some rest. He’s clearly been having a tough time, it would be good for him to have some time away from the action.”

“I think you’re right, thank you Alfred. I’ll take it from here.”

Alfred exists the room leaving Bruce alone with Jason laying on the bed. His soft breathing the only noise in the room before Bruce sighs as he walks over and sits on the reading chair next to the bed. He looks at the man and wonders what happened on his latest mission to draw out this response. He reaches out and gently moves some hair away from the sleeping boys face before he can stop himself and accidentally wakes him up.

“Sorry, Jason. Go on back to sleep. I’ll go on to the library, just call if you need anything.”

As he’s working to get up Jason stops him.

“It’s okay Bruce. I don’t mind. Just didn’t expect to find you tonight..”

Bruce isn’t sure what to say as he sits back down so he goes with what he hopes is a safe route.

“I was worried you were badly hurt when I found you. Thankfully Alfred gave you the all clear.”

“Heh, good ol Alfie, huh?”

Bruce saw a faint smile and wistful look on Jason’s face. His voice sounded like he was close to drifting off to sleep again. Bruce, consumed with paternal instinct reached out again in an attempt to soothe Jason by running his hand along his hair.

It seemed to work since Jason was able to close his eyes and start up again with the soft rise and fall of his chest but not before he said one last thing with a smile on his face.

“Thanks, dad.”

…yall ever think about that??

[rileythelonelyalien]

Thalassophobia- fears of deep bodies of water such as Oceans, seas, and lakes.

A/N: I was writing down new ideas and such for different Fics and I thought about how interesting it might be if the MC/reader had a deep fear of deep bodies of water whilst dating Rafayel? So, I wrote it up, it ended up more fluff than angst if any at all but oh well. I made everything as vague as can be so that anyone can me the MC in this! (Singular use of Y/N Rafayel mostly calls them Cutie)

tw: none, just fluff

word count: 1.2k

fic is under the cut ! :D

Being a hunter meant being strong, capable… but that doesn't mean that a hunter can't have their fears and weak moments right? Alas for you it's not that simple what you find unsettling is a bit embarrassing to say the least, but you can't hide the hesitation on your face when you’re standing so close to the shore with your boyfriend. Thalassophobia. Something that you couldn't quite explain in words but you knew that this phobia was a deep seated worry of yours. Sure, rationally dipping your toes into the little waves lapping at the shore wouldn't kill you but that still couldn’t trump the immense pit in your stomach as you looked out at the horizon, of the large body of water. It looked so still at this moment but who knows what lies beneath the tranquil sight.

“Hey! Heeeeyyyy cutie? What's got you so lost in thought, I’m right here aren’t I?” his familiar voice cuts through your swirling thoughts. You drag your gaze away from the sea before you to the cheeky smile plastered over your boyfriend's features with a small sigh “It's nothing, really.” you mumble half heartedly racking your brain for any excuse you could find to remain on the sand and avoid the root of your hesitation. “I’m… feel a bit tired I think I’ll just sit here, you can still go for a swim if you’d like though I really don’t mind” you quickly mutter out. Unfortunately for you Rafayel is unconvinced, his hands come to settle on his hips taking on a stance that of a petulant child, a pout on his lips. “What? You seemed so energetic on our way over here, what's happened since then… is something wrong?” you shake your head waving your hand at him dismissively “It’s really nothing I swear–” you begin to try and deflect once more but it’s clear he's not having any of it raising his finger and shaking his head “you’re terrible at lying…” he gently chides you before coming closer to you worry evident on his features.

As he draws near his hands would come up to hold yours, “Y/N. If somethings bothering you I don’t want you to have to hide it from me… of course if you don’t want to tell me that okay but I wouldn’t want to do anything without having you by my side, even if it's just swimming” his earlier childish and teasing demeanour has melted away and left behind an air of tenderness between you and him. His tone is kind and understanding, a warm gaze looking into yours with care and respect.

Not having the courage to say anything about your phobia you murmur a few excuses and simply find yourself sitting on the sandy terrain of the beach looking out at the sea, gulls cawing distantly as they traverse the skies above the water. Mindlessly you would pick at the small shells around you, some in broken fragments given how delicate they were whilst others remain intact. Whilst the silence between you two isn't uncomfortable it is filled with a light tension. It stays this way for what feels like quite a while even if it has only been a few minutes since the silence had blanketed over them. “People have lots of silly Phobias, right? Like how you're afraid of cat’s … or some people are frightened by ducks…" the hesitation is painfully evident in your own voice as you hear yourself speak. Rafayel’s head perks up as you begin to speak although he frowns at your mention of his ‘phobia’ of cats “Hey now, it's not a ‘phobia’ if they are menacing little creatures” he huffs in response but makes it clear with how he doesnt draw away even leaning into to you to hear you better that he's open and listening to what you have to say. “Well, I also have a fear… it's stupid I know but I’m frightened by the ocean…” your own voice seems to fail you as the words fade from your lips, quiet speech turning into embarrassed mumblings. 

You expected laughter, maybe a bit of teasing or something of the like. Many people had such reactions “what? Scared of the ocean, that so silly you're overreacting " "now that's just absurd, it's not like its going to kill you” past words dance around in your mind. Maybe it was a mistake telling him this. Yet just as you ready yourself to take back what you said, cover it all up as a joke and laugh it off you catch his expression. The worry that was once there had smoothed over into compassion, a thoughtful frown on his features. “I see, that makes things much more clear now…” he mutters thoughtfully. An arm finds its way around your shoulder bringing you in closer to lean against him, you can feel the sensation of his nose and lips nuzzling into the top of your head, a warm breath against your scalp. “What about it unsettles you so much?” he asks, catching you off guard. You weren't really expecting to be asked that, it's not like many people took the time to try and wrap their minds around a phobia of yours. “It's just– it's hard to explain, to put my feelings into words but I can't help but feel anxious near something like the sea or the Ocean. It’s so vast and deep and not much of it has been explored there is so much danger and unknown hidden within it I can’t help be frightened by it” The words feel jumbled and clanky as they are spoken, something like this has always been difficult to explain to others who don't understand the feeling themselves. Rafayel would simply nod his head with a soft hum of affirmation to your words. “I understand, it's less so the water itself, but what lives in it that disturbs you?” He spoke calmly with no judgement or malice within his speech. “I guess so, it's just… really embarrassing not being able to do normal things like swim in the sea or get on a boat without feeling so anxious, I really hope I haven't ruined our visit today because of this”

The low sound of his chuckle catches your attention, but it's not directed at you at least not in a mocking way more so out of affection. His free hand comes up to tilt your chin up so that your gaze meets his once more “Cutie… nothing can ruin my time when you’re here beside me there's no need to worry about that” he reassures you with a loving smile on his lips. “Besides, we can work on this together, I can be your tour guide for the world that lies beneath the waves… It’ll all be at your own pace and you can trust me to have you safely within my reach the whole time, what do you think?” He proposes the suggestion. You mull about it for a few moments before sighing softly “I think… that would be nice, but for today can you just stay here like this, let's leave the sea tour guide for another day” Rafayel would simply nod his head with a helpless grin leaning in to press his lips to your forehead “Of course, Cutie, like I said you set the pace alight?” the mumbled promise falls from his lips. Gentle waves of water crash onto the shore before being pulled back in by the tide a soothing sound to filling in the background as you and Rafayel spend the rest of your day at the beach collecting the prettiest shells and even spotting a few crabs hanging around in little rock pools left behind by the tide.

[arliedraws]

I've seen your posts about AI. I also know it's a pretty polarizing topic and what the majority opinion is, especially in regards to art and writing. And being an artist myself, I totally agree that it sucks, like you have to pay attention and all, but.... I hardly dare to say this because I know how emotional the discourse around AI is, especially on a platform like tumblr, which sometimes seems so strong that I don't participate in a discussion about this topic at all because I feel like people here would hound me for it, but I still use different AI software, but not in the way that I use it to create something that I can publish and pretend that I spent hours creating it myself. I think it can be really helpful.

If I need information about something quickly, it's more efficient than spending a lot of time searching different websites for a particular piece of information.

I also like to think of it as a group member when I'm working on projects. That doesn't mean that I get the ideas from it and then just copy them. In the same way that group work is beneficial, you pass the ball to each other with the AI and exchange ideas that you can then develop further. Or it can help you if you're looking for another word to describe something better, like a dictionary. And I still know how to use real dictionaries or do proper research, because I know that AI can make mistakes and you shouldn't believe everything. Just like it is with information from the internet in general. Anyway, now I come to the actual “confession”, which is that I also use it, not to let the AI create the art, but as a tool to help myself creating it. I usually use reference images for drawings to help me get the scene itself or the anatomy correct etc. Andy capture it properly. But sometimes I have a very specific scene in mind and can't find a suitable reference, and it can take me hours to find something that fits. So I like to use AI to create that reference for me, because unfortunately I don't have people modeling for me and personally it helps me extremely to have examples to work from.

Idk where exactly I'm going with this. But since the general opinion on generative ai seems very clear here, I wanted to finally get this off my chest because I always kept my moth shut being afraid of how others might react, even though I think that my methods are still quite legitimate, as I still do the real work myself. Anyway, I'm looking forward to your opinion.

Ahhhh okay, well, thanks for the vulnerability here.

You know my opinion on AI. I’m not going to tell you you’re a terrible person or anything for using it, but I’m also not going to justify your personal decisions. Instead, I invite you to change your perspective.

My opinion is this—and it’s more of a question: why are you creating the art? I’m going to hit a few of your main points and just pose questions because I think this gets to be more philosophical than a cut-and-dry “if you use AI, you are a bad guy.” Because I don’t think that—I also don’t think you should use it.

The reason I don’t blame people for being attracted to using AI is because as human beings, we’re designed to find the most efficient way to do things. Thinking and using creativity is a huge caloric expenditure. Right? Naturally, we’re attracted to ways that things can be done FOR us and reduce our cognitive load. Your brain is working as it was designed! But this is also a really cool way to take away your voice and mold you into someone who cannot think for themself.

(This is also what you’re doing by “confessing” to me. You’re unloading your cognitive/emotional burden so you can keep on doing the thing you know is probably a bit shady.)

First of all, I don’t know you, so I don’t know what your art training is. However, you need to train your brain to start coming up with stuff on your own. I am really sorry, but I don’t buy the “I don’t have enough references.” When there are free resources like Unsplash.com and even just looking at buildings around you, the furniture in your house, etc, you DO have the references. But you need to learn how to use them. This is a tool.

Second thing, if the reference isn’t exactly what you need, then you need to start learning volume and shapes. You need to study anatomy. Eventually, you will be able to look at a reference and understand how perspective works and be able to transform a reference in your head to what you need. OR - start combining references. If I’m doing a full scene, I probably have about 5-6 reference photos I’m working from. This is a tool.

Third, start taking photos of yourself for reference images. If you can’t find what you need, do that. I periodically have to go into my camera roll to delete the god-awful reference poses for myself. This is a tool.

Fourth, start a collection of things that “strike you.” Start a reference blog. Have a folder filled with images that intrigue you. Personally, I take an insane number of photos when I’m traveling. For example, I went to a mansion for a tour and took photos of all the early 20th century objects and rooms so I would have these in my arsenal. This is a tool.

My fundamental question is this—why are you having an algorithm create what’s in your head for you? Why not learn how to do these things instead? Your imagination is so cool. The process of creating is making happy mistakes. What do you think Bob Ross would say to you? When you use AI, you’re just copying. The imaginative part has been done for you. You’re just a tool of the robot.

We do so much to avoid frustration, but frustration is the part of creating. When we can see the skills we need to learn, that’s how we know we’re improving. It means you’re trying, and when you press through that discomfort, that’s when you grow. Stop seeing this as a block to your end goal but as an opportunity to continue your infinite journey as an artist. Celebrate that there are so many beautiful things to learn.

Additionally, please don’t see AI as a group project. A group project indicates that all parties involved consent to participate, and I know most artists do not want their art to be used in this way. Imagine if you learned to do all the things I’ve described above and taken time/years/frustration/love to develop these skills, and someone years later then took your work and said “It’s okay - we ALL contributed to this.” It’s just not true.

The artists you see online don’t simply sit down and draw a bunch of cool stuff without practice. I watch Youtube videos of professionals. I draw a gazillion sketches of just MOUTHS or hands so I can create my own references in my mind. Why would you deprive yourself of this?

Look, I think it comes down to this: if you’re looking for efficiency and ‘getting it done’ quickly, then why are you doing it? Are you enjoying the process? If you aren’t, why are you even doing it?

If you need a robot to imagine something for you, then you don’t actually want to do it.

[moons-of-dewclan]

Hellooooo! I’m working on a clangen blog of my own, so I’m going around asking my favorite clangen blogs some questions. I’m happy to get answers to whichever you feel like answering (or none at all if you don’t feel like it!)

What program and file size do you use?

If you use a font, what font is it?

How far ahead do you recommend playing?

Do you have any advice for layouts?

Do you have any tips for lighting/drawing fur?

Do you have any tips for making cats look more unique?

If you do backgrounds, do you have any advice for creating them?

If you use them, where do you recommend finding reference images?

NYELLO! 1. I use Procreate on Ipad! File size is pretty small because i feel more easygoing working small. it forces me not to worry too much about details. Dewclan comic pages come in 1200px wide and.. however tall the page calls for. 1200 DOESN'T SEEM SUPER TINY BUT!! when you think about adding in the speech bubbles and doing usually two panels per 'row', make space for the panels themselves, etc, you end up with only like.. 350/400px to work with. s'LIL 2. FONT is copperplate! 3. this entirely depends on you. if you wanna be able to plan ahead to connect some events, you gotta go a few moons ahead to know what to connect. but sometimes going moon by moon really keeps up your muse and excitement, because even YOU wonder what's gonna happen next. if you need to stay excited about something to keep up with it like ME, i recommend not going too far ahead. keep it Fresh 4. advice would be.. keep in mind/sketch out the placement for your characters AND their speech bubbles in their panels. i don't do this and it shows ALSDNKLSD. sometimes my speech bubbles are squARSHED, or sometimes i have to adjust the size of the font to make it fit. it's silly. PLAN AHEAD. otherwise i'm not so great at layouts and composition in that i don't have a lot of confidence in it, so i can't give much advice OGH 5. shade fur like you'd shade anything else! don't overthink it. but drawing fur can be done in a billion ways so that's a tough one to answer. in my clangen comic it's very simple, bc there's just the illusion of fur. YOU JUST.. ASSUME THERE IS FUR BC.. cats. but there isn't much definition really. sometimes i throw in a tuft or two bc for fun. outside of clangen, uHHHGH.. my fur rendering is sort of a mess. look at how your favourite artists do it! there's no one single way 6. unique cats.. play with shapes! cute round soft shapes, pointy angular shapes. play with the shapes of their ears, give em tufts or give them no tufts. think about silhouettes if you're not going with realism! if you figure out what makes a cat look like a cat enough, you can warp that anatomy and keep them looking cattish 7. i do backgrounds!! i dabble, i partake, in the backgrounds. BUT UAA advice is hard there too. what kind of bgs do you wanna do? :( I'M SORRY I NEED VERY SPECIFIC QUESTIONS I'ASKDNLK I'M EASILY CONFUSED. general advice is again, look at ones you like! think about what you like about the bgs you see and HAVE AT EM. do studies :3 8. Pinterest is good for references. at least it was last i checked before the big AI boom.. bc it'll recommend you similar things. tho i find the layout pretty disorienting. IF YOU CAN GET USED TO IT, IT'S HELPFUL THO

[secretlysimpash]

MDNI

Werewolf (Milo) x Reader thing

Rough day at work? Have your werewolf bf eat you out. but maybe check the calendar first, idk

warning(s): afab fem reader, werewolf lover with human reader, cunnilingus, slight transformation at the end

MDNI

Werewolf boyfriend, Milo, who's nothing but a goddamn golden retriever, eager to please you however he can. A thick layer of coarse hair that covers his body when he's a human, dark curls against his olive skin.

The same werewolf boyfriend that eats like a garbage disposal whenever the full moon nears, shoving whatever he can into his mouth, from damn near raw meats to sweet, freshly picked berries...And if you're offering, then your cunt isn't off the table. Or your ass.

When you return home from a rough day at work its no different, he's leaning against the kitchen island and shoving handfuls of dry cereal into his mouth. The moment he sees you, his pupydog eyes brighten and if his tail was present it would be wagging at mach speed.

"Baby, hey!" He mumbles through a mouthful of maple pecan crunch before swallowing. "You have a rough day? Customers and coworkers being a pain? Anything I can do for you, dolly?"

"Shirt off." Comes your cave-dweller-esque demand. Without further instruction, you hoist yourself onto the island.

Already, he has abandoned the russet box on the counter behind him. The buttons of his red flannel nearly pop off from the force of him taking his shirt off, revealing the dark hairs that decorate his soft body. A body that's all soft pudge over his hard muscles. Those buttons were already close to popping anyway, straining against his pecs. His eyes, which are more amber in color due to the full moon only being one night away, drink in the sight of you hastily push your pants off.

With an exasperated sigh, you let them fall to the floor, eyes moving back to the expectant werewolf.

"Come here...Down." You instruct, gesturing for him to come over and kneel. Milo quickly takes a swig of some water, swishing it quickly before swallowing to clear his mouth of any remaining cereal bits on his tongue.

"So...Rough day?" He asks as he kneels down between your legs. His clawed hands come up to rest upon your thighs. "Lemme help take your mind off of it, dolly."

After your fingers thread through his dark umber curls, he slowly draws his face closer to the space between your legs. He trails kisses along your inner thighs, tip of his tongue tracing lines along stretch marks. As he nears his goal, in inhales deeply. Something that sounds like a growl and a moan rumbles in his chest, the pupils of his amber eyes dilating.

"Dammit, doll..." Milo grunts in a voice that's just a touch raspier now. He inhales again, deeper, as his nose nudges against your hardened bud...Taking in the heady scent of your arousal. "Gonna send me into a damn rut..."

You inhale sharply when his tongue licks a stripe up your slit through the thin cotton of your underwear. When he does it again you give his curls another tug. "Just...Take them off..."

This earls a growl before he snags the fabric on his claws, ripping them off in one swift movement. Cool air hits your now exposed core, but the cool sensation doesn't last long as his tongue slides between your folds. Another growl-moan emanates from his chest, but this time is doesn't stop as he laps at your core over and over again. It only gets louder as his eyes gaze up at you, watching as he dips his long tongue into your entrance as far as it can go, pulling a moan from you.

It's only when your eyes move from his amber eyes--which have somehow turned even more orange than they were moments ago--that you catch a glimpse of the window in the kitchen. The rising moon...Full and round as it makes itself known among the stars. Realization hits like a freight train.

The full moon isn't tomorrow.

The full moon is tonight.

And you demanded attention from your sweet werewolf boyfriend...While you're ovulating...Which can and will actually send him into a rut.

When your eyes move back down between your legs, you catch a glimpse of claws slowly biting into the soft flesh of your thighs...His hands seeming to be more beastly now with the thick fur that begins to cover them, tapering off at his slightly elongated digits. The thick beard of your boyfriend has become even thicker, his ears which were already slightly pointed becoming even more so. A snarl leaves him as he gazes up at you. The night has only begun...

"Mate..." Is all he can manage out through the discomfort of his transformation and his desire that shows as clear as day through his tearing joggers. "My mate...Breed...Need to..." Now its his turn to sound like a cave-dweller as his horny werewolf brain takes over, continuing to devour you as his fangs scrape your most sensitive parts.

Well...Shit.

[on-a-lucky-tide]

Just out of curiosity, how many WIPs are you working with right now? And what makes you abandon one? Do you write when the 'inspiration' hits or do you see it as a task to be done? It gets too much for me sometimes, I'm quick to abandon them.

You are such an inspiration though, keep sharing your brilliant mind!!

Not including the Witcher, which I now consider on "hiatus" with the potential of going back when/if the Witcher 4 and new book heal something in me - twenty-five. I have a bunch of prompts with semis (lol) where I have an idea but I haven't started it yet.

I write when inspiration hits and to relax. My job drifts between a 55 and 75 hour week, so I have my fill of tasks to be done. I will never really abandon anything, I'll keep it because sometimes I can repurpose a part of it for another project (like yanking out spare parts from a car for your current one). I'd really recommend doing the same, Non.

The only way I'll abandon something is if I am harassed on it, or the fandom does something that gives me the ick. I have one (1) officially abandoned piece of work on AO3 and it's on Anonymous.

And because you've been so bloody lovely, here's another for Red Leaf 🍁 Anon who asked for a Part 2 (official) of hair pulling Nikpriceghost (rough, unedited).

Simon drew in a shuddering breath and rich cigar smoke flooded his tongue, the warm familiarity of it settling his heart, the calm rolling through his muscles as he closed his eyes. Nik smoked Cohiba. Smooth, rich. Simon couldn't dissect the flavour profile, his palette blunted by cheap roll ups and scorching cups of tea, but he could pick out the familiar notes of coffee beans, cocoa and leather, with just a hint of sweetness at the back of his tongue, as curls of wispy grey drifted by his face. Price said Cohibas were a smooth smoke, with a nice draw. All Simon knew was that he only ever smoked them when Nik was over, and so Simon had come to associate that smell with the roiling desire in his gut as he watched Nik's hands circle a scotch glass.

What had started out as a mild fascination since Nik's fingers had slid into his hair was now an all out infatuation. The series of events that had led to this moment were a cacophony of noise and images fading slowly into the back of his mind. All that mattered was the now. The smell of expensive cigars, the slow, calm breaths of the man before him and the other somewhere in the shadows of his peripheral, and the feel of strong fingers stroking up and down his neck, urging his face close to the warmth of the solid body in front of it. 

Simon knelt at Nik's feet. They had taken his shirt and his pale nipples had peaked in the air conditioning. He could feel it prickle over the hairs on his arms, over the sensitive, bare skin of his face, so unused to being without his balaclava even at the height of summer. And yet, despite being so exposed, Simon felt utterly grounded. Safe. Nik wore a blindfold, unable to see the vacant, soft look on Simon's face as he gazed up at him, the slow way Simon blinked as he focused on Nik's fingers stroking his hairline, tracing the groove at the centre of his neck and the top vertebrae of his spine. 

Simon was desperate for Nik's touch, to feel his hands and body against every inch of his own. He ached, like he would crack open if Nik took his hands away. But showing his face had felt like a step too far in these early days when the connection was still new, untested; his desire like a raw nerve. Nik hadn't even questioned the insanity of Simon being more comfortable showing his dick than his damn face, standing calmly as Price had tied the blindfold behind his head. Simon had worried that it would diminish Nik in some way, make him uncertain, but the big Russian hadn't even broken his bloody stride. He oozed control in the same way he breathed oxygen; natural, unthinking, effortless.

[yoursinisforgiven]

HAZE ──

pairing: elias x reader (barista) 

cw: smut, afab reader, consensual drunk sex, messy sex, dry humping, drool (?), nipple play, reader is implied to only be in a bra and sweatpants, mentions of the incorrect usage of drugs.

you are responsible for your own media consumption.

The digital clock on the hotel’s nightstand blinks at you with an irritating rhythm, each flash of "2:37 AM" slicing through the heavy darkness like a taunt. 

You let out a low groan, furrowing your brows as you roll over in frustration. Sleep had become a stranger over the past two nights, an elusive thing that danced just beyond your grasp. Your body ached for rest, your mind teetering on the edge of exhaustion. Maybe it was time to concede defeat and down a couple of Benadryl, anything to silence the gnawing thought that sleep deprivation could spiral into something darker—psychosis wasn’t a risk you wanted to take.

The faint hum of the television filters through the quiet room, its noise more like a distant murmur, a jumble of voices overlapping in your foggy brain. You can barely make out the dialogue, but it doesn’t matter; you’re not listening. Your limbs feel heavy as you sit up, stretching in a half-hearted attempt to wake yourself fully. The moment you move, Elias’s hand slides down to your thigh, his touch warm and grounding.

“Good morning,” he murmurs, his voice laced with teasing amusement. His tone is far too chipper for the ungodly hour.

You roll your eyes, but there’s no heat in the gesture. A small smile pulls at your lips as you glance toward the TV. “The Hunger Games? Again?” you ask, your voice soft, tinged with a mix of disbelief and fond exasperation.

“How many times are you going to re-watch this?” you add as you lean into him, letting the solid warmth of his side draw you closer. The scent of his skin—clean, comforting, familiar—wraps around you like a blanket.

Elias chuckles, his fingers tracing absentminded circles against your thigh. “Until I stop noticing something new,” he replies simply, his tone casual, but there’s an undercurrent of thoughtfulness to it. “Every time, there’s a little detail I missed before.”

You nestle closer, resting your head against his shoulder, the exhaustion in your bones momentarily forgotten in the comfort of his presence. On the screen, Katniss stands defiant in the arena, her expression fierce and determined. The flickering light from the TV dances across Elias’s face, catching the angles of his cheekbones and the faint scruff along his jawline. His eyes stay fixed on the screen, but his free hand moves to drape around your shoulder, pulling you tighter against him.

The familiar weight of his arm feels like home, and for a moment, the chaos in your head quiets. Still, the buzzing edge of exhaustion lingers just beneath the surface, and you close your eyes, letting the sound of the movie and the steady rhythm of his breathing soothe you.

“You know,” you mumble, voice thick with sleep creeping back in, “I think I liked Peeta better the first time I watched this. Now... I’m not so sure.”

Elias tilts his head down to look at you, a small smirk playing on his lips. “Team Gale, huh?”

You hum noncommittally, a tired smile tugging at the corners of your mouth. The banter is easy, comforting, like slipping into a warm bath after a long day. For a moment, you let yourself believe that sleep will come soon, that the weight pressing down on your chest will lift, if only for a little while.

──

When the movie finally ends, the screen fades to black. Despite the late hour and your earlier exhaustion, neither of you feels tired. The tension and raw emotion of the movie seem to have seeped into your veins, leaving your mind buzzing. You and Elias sit silently for a moment, both staring at the screen as the credits roll, lost in the quiet aftermath of the story.

“That was... intense,” you finally mutter, your voice breaking the stillness.

Elias shifts beside you, his arm still draped over your shoulder. “It always is,” he says, his voice low and reflective. His hand moves idly, brushing a thumb against your upper arm as if grounding himself in the moment. “I think that’s why I keep coming back to it. It hits you in places you didn’t expect.”

You glance up at him, studying the way his eyes stay fixed on the screen, though it’s clear he’s not really looking at it anymore. There’s a weight in his expression, something thoughtful, and it makes you wonder where his mind has wandered.

“Want to talk about it?” you ask softly. Truthfully, you hadn't even been paying much attention to analyze the movie. 

He shakes his head, offering you a small smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “Nah. But I’ll tell you what I do want.”

You raise an eyebrow, waiting.

“A drink,” he says with a grin that’s suddenly mischievous, the shadow of his earlier mood lifting. 

You laugh, the sound light and a little incredulous. “At almost four in the morning? Are you serious?”

He’s already shifting off the bed, his hand leaving your shoulder as he stretches. “Completely. Come on, don’t tell me you’re not feeling it too. We’re wired.”

You can’t argue with that. The movie has left your nerves frayed and your thoughts swirling, and the idea of a drink—something to settle your mind or maybe amplify the buzzing energy—sounds strangely appealing.

With a sigh, you toss the blanket aside and stand, following him to the small minibar tucked against the corner of the hotel room. Elias is already rummaging through it, pulling out tiny bottles of liquor with a boyish enthusiasm that makes you chuckle.

“Classy,” you tease as he holds up a miniature bottle of whiskey.

“Hey, it’s not about the size. It’s about the effect,” he counters, unscrewing the cap and pouring the amber liquid into a pair of tumblers he’s found. He hands you one, the glass cold against your palm.

You lift it to your nose, the sharp scent of the whiskey cutting through the lingering haze of exhaustion. Elias raises his glass to you, his grin widening. “To late nights and bad decisions.”

You clink your glass against his, laughing softly as you take a sip. The whiskey burns as it slides down your throat, a welcome heat that settles in your chest.

Before long, the two of you are back on the bed, legs tangled as you lean against the headboard, trading stories and jokes that grow sillier with each sip. The tension from the movie melts away, replaced by the warm glow of the alcohol and the easy rhythm of your conversation.

Elias gestures animatedly as he talks, his laughter loud and infectious. His eyes light up in a way that makes your heart ache, though you can’t tell if it’s the whiskey or just him. You’re not sure when the room starts to spin just a little, or when the space between you shrinks.

Somewhere between the jokes and the laughter, the weight of exhaustion finally catches up with you. Your head dips against Elias’s shoulder, and his hand comes to rest against your back, steadying you.

This goes on for a while, drink after drink, sip after sip, until the alcohol works its magic, leaving you both effectively drunk. The whiskey burns less now, replaced by a soft, pleasant warmth that hums through your body, like a blanket wrapped around your senses. The world feels looser, lighter, and you catch yourself laughing at things that wouldn’t normally seem funny.

Elias is no better. His words are starting to slur, his usually quick wit replaced by a lazy charm that makes everything he says sound both ridiculous and endearing.

“And then—” he hiccups, laughing so hard he has to clutch his stomach, “then I told him, ‘Dude, if you’re gonna dive, at least aim for the water.’”

You’re doubled over beside him, laughing so hard your cheeks hurt, though the story probably wouldn’t have been nearly as funny if you were sober. “Y–you didn’t!” you manage to choke out between giggles, wiping a tear from the corner of your eye.

“I did,” Elias says, grinning at you, his eyes sparkling under the dim glow of the bedside lamp. “Right before he belly-flopped onto the dock.”

Your laughter dies down into soft chuckles, and you shake your head at him, the room spinning slightly as you do. “You’re terrible,” you mumble, slumping back against the headboard.

“Terribly charming,” he corrects, his voice dragging a little, as though even his tongue is drunk. He leans closer, his shoulder brushing against yours, the warmth of his body sinking into you.

“Sure,” you say with a grin, your voice dripping with playful sarcasm. But the teasing falters when his hand moves to your knee, his touch lingering longer than it should.

It’s subtle at first—his fingers resting there, his thumb brushing small, lazy circles against your skin. But as the alcohol works its way deeper into your system, every sensation feels amplified. The gentle pressure of his hand feels heavier, more deliberate, and your breath hitches without meaning to.

“You’re quiet all of a sudden,” Elias murmurs, his voice softer now, almost intimate. He shifts slightly, his body turning toward yours as his hand trails slowly, almost absentmindedly, up your thigh.

Your pulse quickens, and you glance at him, unsure whether it’s the alcohol making you hyperaware or if something unspoken has passed between you. “I—uh,” you start, but the words fumble in your mouth, clumsy and uncertain.

“See? Slurring already,” he teases, but there’s something different in his tone—something deeper, more loaded. His hand doesn’t move away, and you can feel the heat radiating from his palm through the thin fabric of your clothes.

Your heart thuds in your chest, and you wonder if he can feel it, if it’s loud enough to betray the thoughts racing through your head. “You’re one to talk,” you manage, though your voice comes out quieter than you intended, your words thick and a little uneven.

Elias leans in closer, close enough that you can smell the faint trace of whiskey on his breath, mingling with the scent of his skin. His hand drifts higher, his fingers grazing just above your knee now, and his eyes meet yours, heavy-lidded and dark with something that makes your stomach flip.

“Am I?” he whispers, his voice low and teasing, but there’s a seriousness lurking beneath it. His gaze flickers down to your lips for the briefest moment, and the room feels impossibly still, the air between you charged with a tension that’s impossible to ignore.

You swallow hard, your own hand twitching at your side before you finally let it move, resting it lightly on his arm. “Elias,” you murmur, his name falling from your lips like a question, like a warning, like something you’re not even sure how to finish.

He doesn’t answer right away, but his hand shifts again, his fingers brushing just a little higher, lingering in a way that sends a shiver racing down your spine. The room seems to shrink around you, the world outside disappearing until it’s just the two of you, caught in a moment that feels both inevitable and dangerous.

His hands slide down to your hips, his grip firm and decisive, and in one smooth motion, he hauls you onto his lap. The suddenness of it draws a sharp gasp from your lips—part surprise, part something deeper you can’t quite name. You weren’t expecting it, not really, and yet the ease with which he moves you makes it clear how strong he is, his hands anchoring you in place as though he’s been waiting for this moment.

Your knees fall to either side of him, and your hands instinctively press against his chest to steady yourself. His body is solid beneath your palms, the heat of his skin radiating through the thin fabric of his shirt, seeping into you like a flame. You feel the steady rise and fall of his breath, each exhale brushing faintly against your neck as you lean forward, your face closer to his than you’d intended.

Your heart races, pounding so hard it feels like it might burst. You can’t bring yourself to meet his gaze—too much intensity, too much vulnerability there. Instead, you let your eyes wander anywhere else, taking in the way his shirt clings to his shoulders, the faint stubble lining his jaw, the curve of his lips, soft but slightly parted, as though he’s waiting for you to speak.

But you don’t. The air between you is thick, heavy with unspoken words and something far more dangerous. His hands remain on your hips, thumbs brushing slow, deliberate circles against your sides, each touch sending a spark of heat spiraling through your body.

“Look at me,” Elias says softly, his voice low and rough, laced with something that makes your stomach twist.

You shake your head, a shaky laugh escaping you. “I can’t,” you whisper, your voice barely audible.

“Why not?” he murmurs, leaning in closer. You can feel the warmth of his breath against your cheek now, and the closeness makes it impossible to ignore the pull between you. 

Your fingers curl into his shirt, gripping the fabric as though it’s the only thing tethering you to reality. Slowly, reluctantly, you lift your gaze to meet his.

The intensity in his eyes is like a punch to the chest. Dark, smoldering, they hold you captive, drawing you in even as every instinct screams at you to look away. There’s no mistaking the desire there, raw and unfiltered, and it makes your breath hitch, your pulse quicken.

“Elias please…” you start, but his name catches in your throat, and you’re not sure if it’s meant to be a protest or an invitation.

“Shh,” he whispers, his hands sliding up from your hips to your waist, fingers splaying wide as though trying to memorize the shape of you. “You don’t have to say anything.”

He tilts his head slightly, his eyes dropping to your lips for the briefest moment before flicking back up to meet yours. The tension between you is unbearable, a magnetic pull that grows stronger with every passing second.

Your resolve falters, your body leaning into him before your mind can catch up. You can feel his heartbeat now, steady and strong beneath your hand, mirroring the chaotic rhythm of your own. The space between you shrinks, his hands tightening ever so slightly on your waist, grounding you and yet setting you alight all at once.

“Here—?” Your voice wavers, barely above a whisper, before it’s cut short by a hiccup that startles even you.

Elias chuckles softly, the sound low and warm, and it sends a shiver down your spine. His hands remain firm on your waist, his thumbs brushing gentle arcs against your sides, a touch that feels both comforting and charged. His eyes, heavy-lidded from the alcohol, meet yours with an intensity that makes it hard to breathe.

He nods slowly, the motion almost languid, the weight of the whiskey evident in the way his head tilts ever so slightly. “Yeah,” he murmurs, his voice husky, the single syllable carrying more meaning than it should.

The room feels impossibly still, the muffled hum of the TV in the background doing little to break the spell between you. Your heartbeat thunders in your ears, the steady drumbeat of nerves and anticipation.

“Do you—wanna?” His question is soft, hesitant, as though he’s testing the waters.

You swallow hard, your throat dry despite the warmth of the alcohol pooling in your veins. “Y... yeah,” you manage, the word shaky but genuine, tumbling from your lips before you can second-guess yourself.

His lips twitch into the faintest smile, a flicker of relief and something deeper flashing across his face. The hand on your waist shifts slightly, his fingers spreading wider, anchoring you to him.

“Okay,” he whispers, the word almost reverent, his gaze locked on yours. Slowly, he leans in, his movements unhurried, giving you all the time in the world to stop him. But you don’t.

The distance between you shrinks, the heat of his breath ghosting over your lips. Your hands, still pressed against his chest, curl slightly, fingers brushing over the soft fabric of his shirt. The air feels electric, charged with a tension that has been building for what feels like forever.

And then his lips meet yours.

The kiss is tentative at first, testing his movements gentle as though afraid you might pull away. But when you don’t—when instead you lean into him, your hands sliding up to his shoulders—he deepens it, his grip on your waist tightening to pull you closer.

You lose yourself in the sensation, the taste of whiskey lingering on his lips, the warmth of his hands, the way his body feels solid beneath yours. It’s intoxicating in a way that has nothing to do with the alcohol.

The kiss grows hungrier, more urgent, as though the dam holding back all the tension and desire has finally broken. His hands slide up your back, his fingers splaying wide as he presses you closer, leaving no space between you.

Your breath mingles with his, the world outside the two of you fading to nothing. Time feels irrelevant, and all that exists is the way he holds you, the way his lips move against yours, the way every touch feels like a promise and a question all at once.

When you finally break apart, gasping for air, his forehead rests against yours, his breath coming in short, ragged bursts. His hands remain on you, steadying you, anchoring you, as though he’s afraid to let go.

His eyes darkened with lust as he looked at you, taking in every detail of your face, the flush on your cheeks, the parted lips, the eyes wide with a mix of surprise and desire. His rough, calloused fingers brushed against your skin, tucking a stray lock of hair behind your ear with a tenderness that made your breath hitch. The texture of his touch, a contrast of rough and gentle, sent an unexpected shiver down your spine.

But he didn’t stop there. His fingers lingered, tracing a path along your jawline with maddening precision, the faint scratch of his callouses awakening nerves you didn’t know could feel so acutely. His touch slid lower, his fingertips grazing the delicate curve of your neck, warm against your skin. You could feel your pulse hammering beneath his touch, a frantic rhythm that betrayed the storm inside you.

And then his hand stilled, his fingers curling gently but firmly around your throat. The weight of his palm pressed into your skin, not enough to hurt, but enough to make you acutely aware of your vulnerability. Your breath caught in your chest as a thousand sensations collided—fear, excitement, a trembling anticipation that made you feel weak. The power he held in that moment, the way his presence dominated the space between you, left you utterly exposed, completely at his mercy.

The sensation of his grip—strong yet controlled—sent a cascade of shivers down your spine. You couldn’t help the way your body reacted, your skin tingling, your senses heightened. The air between you seemed to thicken, charged with an unspoken tension that made it hard to think, hard to breathe—all with the heavy smell of whisky and arousal in the air.

Elias's eyes raked over your body, his gaze heavy with lust and something darker, more primal. He could feel the heat of your skin, could see the way your chest rose and fell with each shaky breath. The sight of you, flushed and wanting, ignited a hunger in him that he couldn't quite control.

His hand still rested on your throat, his thumb brushing lightly over your racing pulse. He could feel it fluttering beneath his touch, could sense the way your body trembled slightly in his grasp. It thrilled him, knowing that he had this effect on you, that he could reduce you to this state with a single touch.

Slowly, deliberately, Elias began to slide his hand down the column of your throat, his fingers trailing over your collarbone before skating across the swell of your breasts. He paused there for a moment, his palm cupping the soft mound, feeling the weight of it fill his hand. His thumb circled your nipple through the thin fabric of your bra, the rough pad teasing the sensitive peak until it pebbled beneath his touch.

Elias leaned in closer, his breath hot against your ear, the scent of alcohol and desire heavy on his tongue. "I want to see all of you," he murmured, his voice a low, seductive rumble. 

With a deft flick of his fingers, he reached behind you and unhooked your bra with ease. The straps slid down your shoulders, baring your breasts to his hungry gaze. Elias took a moment to admire the sight of you, his eyes darkening with lust as he drank in the view of your naked flesh.

Unable to resist, he lowered his head and took one aching nipple into his mouth. He suckled greedily, his tongue swirling around the sensitive bud, teasing it relentlessly until you arched into him with a gasp. His hand came up to knead the soft globe of your breast, squeezing and caressing, his fingers sinking into the pliant flesh.

Elias's hand slid lower, his fingers curling around the waistband of your panties and sweatpants. With a sharp tug, he yanked them down, exposing your glistening sex to his heated gaze. He could see how swollen and ready you were, your folds slick with desire. The sight made his cock throb painfully against the confines of his sweatpants.

Unable to wait any longer, Elias pulled away from your nipple and hooked his thumbs into the waistband of his pants and swiftly pulled them down, leaving him in nothing but a pair of tight, black boxers. His erection strained against the fabric, the outline of his thick length clearly visible. Pre-cum stained the material at the tip, a testament to his arousal.

He pressed his hips flush against yours, the heat of his cock searing even through the thin barrier of his boxers. He rocked into you, the rough fabric of his underwear rubbing against your bare, sensitive sex. The friction sent jolts of pleasure shooting up your spine, making your back arch and your head fall back.

Elias took advantage of your exposed throat, his mouth latching onto your pulse point. He sucked hard, his teeth grazing your skin as he rutted against you with increasing desperation. One hand gripped your hip, fingers sinking into the flesh as he held you in place. His other hand slid around to grip your ass, kneading and squeezing the supple cheek.

The room spun around you, the alcohol in your system mingling with the haze of lust. Elias's touch was electric, setting your nerves alight with pleasure. You could feel the heat of his skin, the power of his body as he dominated you.

Your hands clawed at his back, nails digging into his skin as you clung to him. The movement made the sweat on his skin smear between your bodies, leaving a sheen of moisture on your skin. Your chests heaved together, slick with the combination of sweat and arousal.

Elias's thrusts grew more erratic, his hips rocking wildly as he chased his pleasure. The bed creaked and groaned beneath you, the headboard slamming against the wall. The obscene sound of your mixed fluids squelching and dripping filled the room, the evidence of your coupling painting the sheets beneath you.

Elias's hips bucked wildly as he rutted against you, his thick cock throbbing and leaking through the fabric of his boxers. The damp patch at the tip grew larger, the sticky precum soaking into the material and leaving a glistening trail on your bare sex each time he thrust forward. Your thighs were soon coated with his essence, the musky scent of his arousal heavy in the air.

Lost in a drunken stupor, you could only hold on for dear life as Elias used your body for his pleasure. Each drag of his clothed erection against your core sent bolts of electricity zipping up your spine, your hips bucking involuntarily to meet his rough thrusts.

Elias's breath came in ragged pants, his chest heaving against yours as he rutted into you with wild abandon. Drool dripped down his chin, his eyes glazed over with lust and intoxication. He was lost in his own world, chasing the high of his impending release.

"Mmmph... fuck..." Elias groaned, his hips stuttering as he fucked against you. His boxers clung to his cock, the damp fabric molding to every thick inch as it rubbed against your swollen sex. You were both so drunk, so far gone in the haze of liquor and lust that they could barely think straight.

Your nails raked down Elias's sweat-slicked back, leaving red welts in their wake. The heat of his skin, the obscene slap of his underwear against your bare sex—it was all too much. You could feel your climax building, your pussy clenching and fluttering wildly around nothing.

Elias's hips jerked erratically, his cock pulsing and throbbing almost painfully as he humped against you with desperate need. His boxers were soaked through, the fabric clinging obscenely to his shaft and leaving a sticky trail of precum each time he ground into your dripping sex. The room spun around him, the alcohol swirling in his veins as he lost himself in the hazy fog of lust.

Elias's breath came in harsh pants, his chest heaving and sweat-slicked as he rutted into you with wild abandon. Drool dripped down his chin, his eyes glazed and unfocused, completely consumed by the primal urge to find his release.

"Fuck... fuck... gonna..." Elias grunted and groaned, his hips stuttering as he fucked against you with increasingly desperate thrusts. The bed creaked and groaned beneath your writhing bodies, the headboard slamming against the wall with each rough grind of his hips.

Your bare breasts bounced and jiggled with the force of his movements, flushed and slick with sweat. Elias leaned in to capture one aching nipple in his mouth, sucking hard as he rutted into you. His tongue swirled around the sensitive peak, teasing it relentlessly until your back arched and you cried out your orgasm soon meeting you.

Elias could feel his climax approaching fast, his heavy balls drawing up tight to his body as he chased his pleasure. He was so close, teetering on the edge of a massive release. With a final, brutal thrust, Elias buried his face in your neck and let out a guttural roar as his cock jerked and pulsed, painting the inside of his boxers with thick ropes of hot, sticky cum.

Spent and panting, Elias leaned back against the headboard—his grip on you loosening up slightly. His hips continued to twitch and shudder as the last waves of his orgasm coursed through him, your joined sexes still grinding together in the aftermath of his intense climax. The room spun around him, the air thick with the scent of sex and alcohol as Elias struggled to catch his breath, drunk on the haze of his release.

His cock remained hard, trapped in the sticky confines of his cum-soaked boxers and grinding against your sensitive sex. He was lost in a drunken stupor, glazed eyes staring blankly ahead as he mumbled incoherently.

You collapsed onto his chest, your body spent and trembling, your breaths mingling in the stillness of the room. His skin was hot beneath you, slick with sweat, the faint, salty tang of it clinging to the air. Your own skin mirrored his, flushed and damp, the evidence of your shared exhaustion. The steady rise and fall of his chest was a comfort, a quiet rhythm that matched the pounding of your heart as it slowly began to steady.

His arm wrapped around you instinctively, pulling you closer against him, as though even in the haze of fatigue, he couldn’t bear the thought of letting you go. You pressed your ear to his chest, listening to the deep, steady thrum of his heartbeat, a grounding sound in the quiet aftermath. The warmth of his body enveloped you, a cocoon of safety and intimacy that made the world beyond this moment seem impossibly far away.

Then you heard it, soft and slurred, a mumble that barely broke the silence. “I love you,” he said, his voice rough with exhaustion. You weren’t sure if he was fully awake, his words teetering on the edge of consciousness, but the sincerity in his tone pierced through the haze in your mind. A part of you wondered if he would even remember saying it in the morning, but another part—one that felt so deeply connected to him in this moment—didn’t care.

Your lips curved into a small, tired smile, and you tilted your head just enough to press a feather-light kiss to his chest. “I love you too,” you whispered, your voice barely more than a breath, as if saying it too loudly might break the fragile beauty of this moment.

──

author's note: i've never seen hunger games, and had to google the names and plot of the characters and movie.

zaros is nextt!