#so it’s like a rough sketchy piece

[jae-in-a-trenchcoat]

@yasammyweek day 5: track meet!

Sammy’s only trying to cool Yaz down after all that hard work at the track meet ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

[crazymecjc]

shuake week day 2 - new game plus

plus, bonus!

[scarymath]

baby blue // born anew

[icicleteeth]

I find I enjoy my art a hell of a lot more the messier and scratcher the lines and colors are done, but I always have it in my head that like "Well Teeth only you think rougher drawings look better; you can't do that if it's for a comm or for someone else because it will come off as laziness"

[codtrashsammy]

This is... love? (Simon Riley x Reader)

- SMUT SMUT SMUT - MDNI MDNI MDNI -

First time writing smut in a loooong time, so bare with me. Had an idea and ran with it. I hope you like it tho!

Simon Riley can fuck. But what about the first time you make love? Word Count: 2.8K

Pairing: Simon Riley x Reader/You

Warnings: crying during sex (not the bad kind tho, promise), explicit sex, p in v, praise (heavy heavy like on god), gentle love making <3 bc our boy can fuck, but what about other stuff too?!

Of course, you’ve fucked. Simon has been your boyfriend for 3 years now, you’re definitely comfortable to explore that part of your relationship now.

Simon has had you bent over every piece of furniture in your flat, has had you in every bed in your house, in the shower, on the floor, a couple of times on the balcony even. He’s had you pinned to walls in sketchy bar bathrooms, he’s had you in the back of his nice looking truck, the bed of that same truck- fuckin’ everywhere. That’s all it’s been, it’s been fucking. Rough, fast- always fucking godly, of course, but it’s primal. Animalistic, and you love it- you truly do love it. But this time you want to do things different. You want to slow it down, you want to fucking relish in the man you’re lucky to call your own. You don’t want to fuck, you want to make love to him. Simon has always been… not exactly averse to your softer affections, as he’s always a very willing participant, but you sometimes notice he seems… overwhelmed. Like he can’t quite handle the raw, genuine emotion behind a soft, tender, lingering touch. His cheeks heat up, he gets this certain look in his eyes, and while he’s never been mean about it- he backs away from it. He shies away from it. 

You’ve tried talking to him about it- you’ve tried many, many times to bring it up to him. And yet the bastard always has a way to switch up the conversation, to change things around, to slip past the topic so easily- he can spin straw into gold with that mouth of his.

So, you’ve decided to take matters into your own hands.

You’re laying in bed, cuddled right up to him, your leg thrown over his hips and an arm thrown over his chest while you lay on your side, your head nestled perfectly in the crook of his arm. Simon’s hand idly plays with the ends of your hair, his arm wrapped around you, simply holding you to him as if to make sure you don’t slip away. 

Simon is seemingly lost in thought, eyes closed and body more or less relaxed- as relaxed as Simon can be when the man is always seemingly on alert to every little sound. 

“Hey, Si,” You murmur out, your fingers idly tracing random shapes against the fabric of his shirt. He hums to let you know he’s heard you, but otherwise doesn’t really react. Fuck, you love this man. You love every inch of him, everything about him. You even love that he always leaves the toilet seat up (you swear he does it out of spite) because you know you’d miss it if he wasn’t around to keep doing it.

“Can I try something?” You ask, tone soft and relaxed, casual. Not at all portraying the thoughts in your head, your secret little ‘mastermind’ plan. 

“Tha’s quite vague, ain’t it, love?” Simon grumbles out, voice low as if to match the atmosphere of simple peace and quiet. “Hmm…” You trail off, a playful smile growing on your face- not that he’s looking to see it, “I think it’s pretty simple. Either yes or no.” You quip with a nod, moving to lean up, resting your weight on your elbows so you can look down at him with a soft, gentle smile. And of course at feeling you move, his arm moves from around your shoulders to around your waist- always touching you, never wanting you far when he’s finally home. (You don’t realize home is you- but of course he’s never quite told you that). Simon’s eyes open at your movement, too. Pretty brown eyes, half lidded in his more-or-less relaxed state as he looks up to meet your gaze, his gaze soft in the way it only ever is for you- his mask resting along the nightstand by the bed. There if he needs it- but it’s rarely needed with you around. A warm light, easily able to lighten up even the darkest depths of his mind to keep his demons at bay.

“....yes?” Simon offers after a few moments of contemplation, a curious look in his own eyes as they scan over your face- looking for a hint of what possible fuckery you could be up to at this point. Your soft smile stretches out into a soft grin as you lean down, pressing your lips to Simon's and letting your eyes flutter shut. One of your hands come up, tracing softly up his chest, up his throat, along his jaw before settling to cup his cheek.

You can feel his breath hitch the slightest bit at the soft touch, the lingering touch. This is the kind of kiss that usually overwhelms him, but maybe he’s in a good mood tonight. Your thumb softly caresses his cheek while your tongues intertwine, and you can feel the moment Simon tries to speed it up.

You pull away, eyes still closed, your lips brushing against his as you speak, “No, no,”

And you promptly place your lips back against his own, not giving him time to start spitting his bullshit about how he’s going to make you see stars if you don’t stop teasing him- because that’s not the goal here. 

You shift your body, moving to straddle Simon's hips (a feat in its own right), keeping one hand cupping his cheek while the other moves to the hem of his shirt, slowly running over the skin above the waistband of his pajama pants, before delving under the fabric and feeling the softness of his tummy, touch so soft and gentle, so loving against his body.

Simon doesn’t know what to think, his own hands seeming to hesitate before they come to rest along your thighs, squeezing the fat there a bit roughly- but that’s okay, you can teach him. 

“Love your hands, Si,” You murmur as you finally pull away from the kiss, only to trail kisses down his jawline, slow and soft, occasionally nipping at the skin.

Simon let's out a grunt, his fingers digging into the meat of your thighs before moving to cup your ass, pushing your body to force your clothed cunt to grind against his already hard cock, and a breathy moan leaves your lips from the stimulation- but damn it, you’re doing this your way this time.

“I’ll stop,” You warn, voice still soft, but there's… an edge to it for once, one stating that you really will.

A soft groan leaves Simon's lips, along with a scoff at the absolute audacity of you, “Love,” Simon says, in warning more than anything. 

“I don’t wanna hear it,” You’re quick to say, before leaning back to meet his pretty, brown-eyed gaze, your hands moving to lift his shirt which he eagerly enough helps with, throwing the fabric away and down to the floor like it was the very thing that killed his family.

…a bit much, but you can understand his eagerness.

“You’re so beautiful, Simon,” You murmur out, eyes filled with nothing but adoration as you trail your hands across the familiar expanse of his chest, fingers running through his chest hair, thumbs brushing over his nipples before trailing down his sides. Your palms run over the subtle softness of his belly, where you know there is muscle hidden underneath.

A hiss leaves Simon's lips, and you can feel his cock twitch from where you’re perched in his lap. “Bloody ‘ell, love, the fuck ya doin?” Simon mutters, hands moving to grab your hips.

“Jus’ be good for me, yeah?” You murmur out, a soft, adoring smile on your face as you finally look up to meet his gaze.

The sight alone is enough to make you pause slightly. He’s not like this when you’re fucking- and you don’t even have his dick in you yet! His cheeks are flushed, not from exertion, he’s just flustered, his bottom lip between his teeth, brows pinched together with pretty glossy eyes. Almost like he could cry- but not quite. 

“You’re always so good for me, Si,” You murmur, grinding your hips against his own and letting out another breathy moan at the feeling, his hands tightening their grip of your hips in response. Just one look and you can tell he’s overwhelmed already- or at the very least getting there. But he hasn’t once told you to stop- he’s simply tried speeding you up, which you have no interest in. Not this time.

You grab his hands, kissing each of his knuckles before slowly dragging them underneath your own shirt, placing his palms against your breasts, his thumbs already swiping at your nipples, at the already peaked buds there. “Always takin’ such good care of me, my love,” You praise, and you reward him with another slow grind, beginning to set such a slow, but lovely pace, just enough friction to make you want more- but that’s the goal. A slow build, no rush, no desperation, just… slow. Loving. Gentle. Tender. Simon visibly gulps, his hands squeezing the flesh of your tits with a groan before he’s tugging your shirt off and adding it to the growing pile on the floor. He tries to buck his hips, tries to get your movements to speed up- but you simply lift up, ending the contact altogether, and send him a pointed look.

“Do ya not want me to fuck ya, love? What’s all this then?” Simon says with a huff, eyes narrowing slightly as they meet your own. Anyone else would say he’s frustrated- and yeah, partly he is. But you know your Simon, you can see that glossiness to his eyes, can see the slightest twitch of his brow- he’s overwhelmed- he’s not sure how to handle this, the softness, the gentleness. Simon likes to say he can’t be soft, can’t be gentle, can’t be loving. But it’s been 3 years with this man- you know he can. He just needs to be taught- it’s simply something he’s never had before, it’s not like he was born with the knowledge. “No,” You answer with a pleased, breathy sigh, resting your hips back against his own and beginning that slow grind once more, feeling his cock twitch at the action. “Don’t wanna fuck, Si. Jus’ be good for me, baby. Jus’ sit here, look pretty for me. Always so good for me. Jus’ let me love you, sweet boy,” You murmur out, eyes meeting his own and holding their gaze.

You trail your hands down his arms along his shoulders and collar bones, quite literally loving every inch of his skin.

Simon’s cheeks get hotter, the look he gives you is entirely overwhelmed, spooked even. Like the thought of being loved is absolutely horrifying alone.

“Be good? Kinda kinky, innit?” Simon mumbles out in response, looking at you with a quirked brow.

But you don’t stop. And he doesn’t stop you.

Clothes continue to fly off, positions change, but somehow you manage to remain in full control for once. And he lets you. Sure, you have to correct him at times, have to remind him to slow down, all with soft smiles and gentle praise- and he eats it up like a starving hound.

Even now, as moans and breathy praise leaves your lips, Simon being vocal, a rarity on it’s own, at least to this extent.

“Feel s’ good around me, love, fuck, so good,” He fucking babbles, his cock dragging along the walls of your drooling cunt at a slow, but steady pace. You’re underneath him now- stereotypical missionary- but it’s divine.

You pull Simon’s head down, pressing his forehead against your own, your legs wrapped loosely around his hips as his cock drags deliciously over all those sweet spots inside, the soft mound above his cock pressing against your clit with every. Single. Thrust.

It’s a slow build up, so slow, and while he focuses on clenching his fists into the sheets above your head, resting on his elbows on either side of it, you focus on touching him, praising him.

“Always so good to me, baby,” You practically purr the words.

“I love you so much, Si, so much,” You say, breathless as your back arches, forehead pressed to his and eyes closed in bliss of the slow building pleasure.

“Like you were made jus’ for me, sweet boy,” Your hands move to wrap around his shoulders, one of them tangling in his hair.

“Love how you make me feel, Simon,” You moan out, legs tightening their grip around his hips.

If your eyes weren’t closed, you’d see how Simon is looking at you right now. Simon is looking at you like you’re a fucking goddess… but the vision is blurry, from the pure overwhelming, unshed tears in his eyes. God, he’s pathetic, isn’t he? Crying? During sex? But he can’t even entertain the thought- thoughtful praise continuing to spill from your lips as he continues his slow, languid, deep thrusts. 

He focuses on the feeling, on the way your words are soothing parts of him he didn’t care to recognize were broken, he focuses on the way your hands trail across his skin so fucking lovingly- as if he’s actually worth something. As if he’s someone and not a monster. As if he doesn’t have hundreds of lives taken by the very hands you praise for touching you.

No- no, none of that matters right now, as for the first time in his fucking life Simon Riley doesn’t fuck- he makes love. 

“God- g-gonna make me cum, Simon- fuck- love the way you make me cum-” You whimper out, back arching into him and fuck, Simon can’t take it anymore.

Simon doesn’t know what to think. Sure, the pleasure is mind-numbing, your pussy always feels so fucking good when it’s wrapped around his cock like this, but it’s damn near tripled by the pure feelings you’re forcing him to feel. The way his chest burns, but it’s so good- he can fucking feel the love you have for him, the way you hold him in your heart, the way you think of him as though he put the very stars in the sky for you and you alone. And he would- fuck he absolutely would. He’d give you the world should you ask for it- fuck he loves you, he loves you, he loves you, he loves you.

He doesn’t speed up- he wants the slower build up, too, doesn’t want to rush it, but he’s going to shatter if more praise leaves your lips so he presses down, slotting his mouth against your own, a minor distraction really.

You can feel the wetness to his cheeks.

You know it’s not sweat.

Your hands move to cup his cheeks so softly, so lovingly, so gently. You moan into his mouth as the pleasure builds until that band finally fucking snaps, and you’re on cloud nine.

Simon buries his head in the crook of your neck, his hot, thick cum shooting ropes into you as your cunt squeezes his cock like a vice, truly milking him for all he’s worth.

You’re both panting, but Simon's head stays hidden- you know why, you can feel the tears against your neck, but you don’t say anything.

You wrap your arms around him, holding him close as you come down from your high, nuzzling your cheek against the top of his head.

“Love you so much,” You whisper out, running a hand through his hair, still slightly breathless.

You can feel Simon place the softest kiss to your neck, arms squeezing you almost too tightly, but you don’t say anything. 

You know your Simon. He’s not a monster. He’s not a killing machine. He’s a man- your man. Simon’s not unlovable, he’s not broken. He’s not stupid for simply not knowing. He’s not stupid for simply needing to be taught.

And you love him. Gods, do you love him. You’ll teach him. You’ll teach him it’s okay, he’s safe here, in your arms. He’s safe to love, to cry, to breakdown, he’s safe to get the very things he’s never had- and you’ll give them willingly.

You don’t know how long you stay like that. His now soft cock still buried in your cunt, his tears have subsided awhile ago, but he’s still unwilling to move from his spot- not that you’re complaining. 

It’s so quiet you barely even hear it, but fuck, you’re so glad you did.

“Love ya,” Simon mumbles against your skin, his voice so quiet, hoarse and rough. But so very soft, so very gentle. Yeah. Simon Riley can fuck like a god. But Simon Riley is learning how to love you fully, how to make love to you fully- and he wouldn’t change a thing. Neither would you.

[nyao-mi]

NOT MY ASTARION BRAIN ROT CONTINUING CUS LIKE i just got the scene where he literally says he misses seeing his face and that like he wishes he knew what he looked like and i??? WANTED SO BADLY FOR IT TO BE AN OPTION TO DRAW HIM

LIKE IMAGINE STARING AT HIM ACROSS THE BONFIRE, watching the way the light dances across his pale skin. youve been through hard times and one of the things you've learned to get through it was to draw

at first, you loathed the fact that you had to paint rich people for mere couple pieces of gold when you knew your art was worth more than that. you loathed even more that they'd upturn their posh noses at you and scoff when, truly, they knew what a treasure your art was.

now, seeing astarion, the way his white hair seemed to almost form a halo around his head, reflecting the moonbeams that graced his body, watching as he crossed his legs and meditated; you knew that you didn't regret a single second of the trials and tribulations that led you to this point.

you could finally put this agonizing skill to use. you could draw him.

and so you scrounged up some paper, an ink well, a quill; all things you'd pocketed during your adventures with the rather willful vampire.

you sat there, nib of the quill scratching against the parchment.

your art was nothing compared to the paintings you'd done before; these were mere lines and ink blots. you wished you could truly show him how beautiful he was through water color or pastels. instead, trapped in a land you barely knew, all you could do for him was this.

he had his eyes closed, of course, so you drew them from memory. strikingly red, like rubies, like blood. you didn't forget his crow's feet; you loved the way they wrinkled when he laughed. you shaped his lips, soft but rough from years of bite and chew, and formed it into his infamous mischievous grin.

his hair always seemed unruly but, drawing it now, it felt like drawing gorgeous chaos; there was an order to it, the way the bangs fell across his forehead, the way the sides feathered in front of his ears and curled behind them.

when you stopped, you realised you'd drawn him over and over, across several pieces of parchment.

the way he frowned and his fangs would glance across his lips. the way he'd look confused and his eyebrows would furrow. the way he'd look longingly at the stars, mind distant and eyes almost empty, like he'd made so many wishes that were never granted by the cosmos.

you never liked tooting your own horn but you felt like you truly captured him.

so, you took your pieces of paper, all drawings of him, dozens of them, small and sketchy; you took it all and you sat beside him and spread them out in front of you.

it took him a second to realise you were there. he'd been letting his guard down recently, especially when you were on watch duty, and it took you laying your head across his shoulder for his eyes to flutter open.

he opened his mouth, like there had almost been a retort slipping off his tongue, but the sight of your drawings stopped him.

he let out a ragged breath, eyes flickering across all of them. his clawed hands hovered in the air, trembling, as if taking a hold of the drawings would make them crumble under his touch.

and perhaps, in his head, he really believed they would.

'darling,' he'd call you, his voice wet with unshed tears 'what's all of this?'

of course he'd still joke. it was how he coped with things. he joked to hide how he truly felt and, of course, you were always there to understand.

'it's you,' you answered a matter-of-factly, as if you hadn't just turned this vampires world upside down 'its you the way i see you.'

and that's what makes him crack. because maybe, since you were the one that drew all of it, you hadn't noticed. but he noticed.

he noticed all the love and devotion you spilled across the page. every single detail, every single stroke, it was all from love.

and as someone who had never been on the receiving end of it, astarion cracked and he hid his face into your neck and he cried.

they were soft sobs, almost unnoticeable. but he cried nonetheless.

he cried for his past that he'd lost under his sadistic master, he cried for his difficult present that seemed impossible to escape, and he cried for this hopeful future you seemed to lay out in front of him.

he cried because he didn't realise that he had this much hope left inside of him. because he didn't know what else to do in the face of your devotion.

you just sat there, humming and rubbing his back, ignoring the way his arm wrapped around your waist, claws digging into your skin as if you'd disappear in front of him if he didn't hold on to you as tightly as possible.

[another-lost-mc]

Can you imagine the om! cast flirting with mc and thinking they're mc's only romantic interest when mc already has a booty call at RAD? There are no feelings involved, just intimacy, but still. I think the cast is too arrogant to ever think mc could be interested in anyone else.

(English is not my native language, so please excuse any possible mistakes)

a/n: that’s fair! I mean, mc has needs too, right? maybe trying to hook up with one of the avatars is daunting, but a hot lower-ranking demon lord who promises a good time every once in a while? that could be fun.

➤ when they find out you have a fwb | the demon brothers

0.9k words | nsfw | suggestive | gn!reader

c/w: jealousy and implied dark themes/sketchy behaviour squints at beel and belphie

read more: the dateables | when solomon is your fwb

Lucifer finds it hard to believe at first. Once he knows the demon’s name, he watches you two interact more closely. He picks up on the shared glances and flirtatious touches he somehow missed before. He’s been stewing in his own desires and feelings for you all this time because he wasn’t sure the best way to declare his intentions. He thought subtlety and patience would be best, but perhaps he can admit just this once that he was mistaken. Learning about your dalliances with someone else finally gives him the push to show you what a real demon lover can offer you. Once you have the Avatar of Pride to warm your bed, you'll be satisfied with no one else but him.

Mammon is one part incredulous, one part jealous, and just a teensy bit turned on. He can’t stop staring at the blurry photo Asmo managed to take of you sneaking out of a utility closet at RAD. His cock twitches when he takes in the image of your rumpled clothes and the way your forehead glistens from a light sheen of sweat. He wants to make you look like that, not some random nobody that doesn't deserve you. His mind races when he imagines his own fingers tugging your clothes aside for better access to your naked body. What did you sound like when you tried to muffle your moans so no one would hear you? Mammon would give anything to take that demon’s place. Y’know, both of you have a spare period after lunch—would you follow him into one of the dark corners of RAD for a little fun if he offered? Maybe it’s time for him to find out.

Levi is seething. Mostly he’s angry and jealous and he wants to tear the building to pieces. He’s also ashamed because the fantasy of you dragging him into an empty room at RAD for a midday fuck is hot as hell. He doesn’t think he deserves you, but he knows that the demon you’re fucking doesn’t either. What do they have that he doesn’t? He’s burning with curiosity about your little affair, but he’s incensed by the idea that he might not be good enough for you. Envy can make him a little desperate. He's tempted to beg you for even a morsel of your love and affection. If he's pathetic enough, maybe you'll even take pity on him and oblige.

Satan is furious because he should’ve realized something was going on. The signs are all there and he missed them somehow. It takes all his willpower not to hunt down your little demon friend for daring to touch you that way. Satan is well-versed in human world literature—maybe declaring his intentions with a romantic gesture would convince you to give him a chance instead? Or maybe sweet and romantic love isn’t what you crave. If fast and rough is more to your tastes, all you need to do is mention your friend’s name—you’ll be too fucked out of your mind to remember it by the time he’s finished with you.

Asmo’s reactions are all over the place: he’s giddy that you’re so daring (fucking at RAD of all places!); he’s devastated that you turned to someone else instead of coming to him; and he’s frustrated that he didn’t realize sooner this was even happening. He pays more attention after he catches you the first time, and it seems so obvious when the current of lust between you and your friend flickers with interest throughout the school day. He finds reasons to keep you two from sneaking off together and pretends he’s not jealous every time he interferes. Perhaps when you’re frustrated enough, he can finally entice you to join him for a little pampering session in his room. You seem so frustrated today! But don’t worry—he knows exactly what you need to loosen up.

Beel is one of the few demons that understands what hunger and starvation feels like. Sometimes you need to do whatever it takes to satisfy those cravings, even on a temporary basis. You’re important to him, and he cherishes your friendship. He’s hidden his true desires from you because he doesn’t want to risk losing control if he’s too hasty, too rough, or too demanding before you're ready to embrace being with someone like him. His love is all-consuming and you're a constant strain on his self-control. If you weren’t turning to someone else for affection, maybe he could be patient and satisfy his urges for you elsewhere. Now that he knows someone else has had a taste of you, he wants you even more. When he finally confesses his desire to be with you, he hopes for both your sakes that you feel the same.

Belphie lashes out with barbed insults and backhanded compliments to hide his own hurt and jealousy. You’re not that bad looking for a human, I guess it was only a matter of time before someone wanted to fuck you. Once he learns the truth about that demon you’ve been fooling around with, he’s suddenly glued to your hip like he can’t stand to be parted from you. He’s selfish with your time and clings to you in his bed during naps. He sneaks his way into your dreams because he wants to make sure you’re not dreaming of anyone else. He might even have a private chat with your little friend, but he doesn’t tell you since it’s nothing for you to worry about. It’s a shame that your fuck buddy suddenly decides to call things off between you after that. At least you still have Belphie to comfort you and wipe away your tears. He appreciates you, even if that random asshole doesn’t—the only demon you ever needed has been here for you all along.

[littlerequiem]

the hitchhiker's guide to isekai ˚⁎⁺ levi x gn!reader

CONTENT — Levi getting isekai'd into our world, (questionable) humor, slice of life, swearing, Levi is a boomer when it comes to technology, pop culture refs, suggestive, mentions of bondage (wc: 1.1k words). Written for Day 3 - Isekai, Levi Month 2024 - @levievent

For as long as you could remember, Levi Ackerman had always been your favorite fictional character. There was something about his strength, his empathy, and his kindness that drew you to him.

Then, one day, the universe delivered him on a silver platter.

It was midsummer night when you found him. There he was, lying in your new antique wardrobe, groggy and half asleep, dark hair tousled to the side. You couldn’t believe what you were seeing; was this really your favorite anime character, in the flesh?

Before you could think on the logistics of it all, however, Levi was already reaching for the small knife tucked in his boot.

And threatening you with it.

It all happened in a flash.

With your heart drumming in your chest, you remember fumbling for words, looking straight into those sharp, silver eyes you’d always imagined must shine like starlight (and gods, they truly did).

Looking back, your first words lacked a certain decorum. “Wh—who—is this some kind of skit, huh? Are you some kind of pervert?!?”

Levi looked at you then like you were a complete idiot.

As it turned out, Levi was not, in fact, a pervert, nor did he mean to end up here in the first place.

Instead, he told you the hard facts: that he was Levi Ackerman, Captain of the Survey Corps. That he owned the same closet in his office, only in his own world. That the last thing he remembers was falling asleep in this piece of furniture, an attempt to hide from Hange who’d been up in arms trying to convince him to help with an experiment.

Your reality, it seemed, was connected to the Attack on Titan universe through a mysterious wardrobe.

(Like fucking Narnia.)

It was then that it was decided that he would stay with you until he found a way home.

A month has passed since this first moment, and to say that your daily life has been altered would be an understatement. You’re living with one of your personal heroes, after all—not that you let him know you view him as such.

Levi is trying to get back to his world, and in the meantime, Levi gets to discover your world: the joys of washing machines, the taste of matcha tea, the ease of hoovers, rock music.

And today, he’s uncovering the mystery that is the internet.

“I don’t understand,” Levi grumbles, his voice rough like sandpaper. Lines of tension form across his pale forehead, his gaze fixed on your laptop propped on the kitchen table. “People spend their time looking at cat... paintings?”

He’s perusing your blog.

“These are actually photographs that you’re looking at, but I suppose people also love drawings of cats. Cats are a very popular topic, see,” you explain, coming closer as you stop him from clicking on a sketchy looking pop up: ‘Free iPhone 15! Claim Yours Now’.

Levi's charged gaze follows as he watches you go about it; you have the thought he smells nice, like fresh linen and tea.

You clear your throat, withdrawing from his personal space. “Um... anyway, that’s not all you can do with the internet. People use it for all sorts of things: you can look up the news, the weather, forums…”

He crosses his arms over his chest, leaning back in the chair. “What’s that? Sounds like a disease.”

Ah, where to start...

“Forums are online spaces where people can discuss things. You can host debates, provide instructions, and more. Personally, I use them to gush about things I love. Like books!”

Levi clicks his tongue. “So, a bookclub?”

“Mm, yes, and no. Like sure, on the forum I'm a mod for, I love to discuss the plot, the characters, and the writing, but I also just enjoy goofing around with my friends and sharing memes.”

“Me...mes.” Levi looks puzzled by this word.

You stifle a snort. “Memes are like... jokes. Only sometimes, they're also cultural staples.” At his skeptical expression, you shrug. “I guess this world is different from yours, in that respect. We have... less immediate dangers, more free time.”

“That's not a bad thing,” he mutters, tone oddly soft. He averts his tepid gaze, looking back to your blog as he exhales through his nose. “But your world still makes no sense to me. Especially all of this.”

He nods towards the web page.

“It’s okay, the internet takes a while to get used to," you say. "Even for me... I constantly feel like an old crone whenever I hear all the lingo kids are coming up with these days.”

“Hmph.”

Levi looks unimpressed. So, forums—and the internet, it seems—aren’t his thing. Probably for the better—the last thing you need right now is for him to realize there’s a whole fanbase devoted to discussing his character (not to mention the other, less PG-friendly aspects of the conversation).

“Hey, how about we take a break?" You tilt your head, flashing him an easy smile. "You’ve been staring at the screen all morning. It can be a strain on your eyesight.”

Levi’s half-lidded stare crinkles, his lips pursing into a thoughtful pout, the same look he gets whenever you throw him scraps of information about your world and its strange customs.

“I was planning to make some tea,” you add, “want a cup?”

“… if you're making one anyway,” he mumbles, scowling in a way that reminds you of a grumpy cat. Cute.

You head towards your small kitchen, grabbing Levi’s favorite tea bag and laying out clean cups. As the kettle groans alive and you eventually hear that familiar sizzling that tells you the water’s come to a boil, another noise coming from behind garners your attention.

“Oi, something happened to your cat photo-thing,” you overhear Levi drawl.

You turn with a raised brow.

That’s when you notice that Levi’s somehow ended up on your desktop page, the familiar sight of your screensaver (more cats!) appearing into view.

But that’s also when you notice the mouse is hovering dangerous close to one of your folders... your babygirl folder.

Oh, no.

Oh, no, no, no...

“DON’T CLICK THAT!” you plead, attempting to rush to his side to avoid the embarrassment of a lifetime.

Too late. Levi has entered the folder and somehow managed to click on one of the more scandalous pictures; your peripheral catches his expression, and it's the most stupor you've seen on his face yet... and is that pink dusting his cheeks?

Because Levi is looking straight at one of the fanarts you’d saved of him months ago.

Where his pixelated counterpart is tied up. Stark naked.

Well, shit.

— Masterlist / Join my taglist

[ohno-the-sun]

Oh uh forgot to ask in the previous ask (the one with the digital piece of candy and scurrying and stuff)

How do you draw art so good

Like

Is there a method you use or is that just the style you've gotten over time?

you've activated my trap card

I'm just gonna preface that this tutorial is from someone who was not professionally trained and didn't have a lot of free time for art, so a lot of the tips I have is short cuts I use to get the best results quickly

If you genuinely want to get better at art then please look at references and practice that is always the best

However if you are like me and only really do art for fun but want to go faster then these are for you pfppt

Overall I'd say my style is influenced by speedpaints I would watch when I was younger, I like analyzing how people do things and what makes something look "good" to me

I always recommend watching them because they will often have techniques you've never seen before or do things a certain way that you can try out yourself

I consume good art, it feeds me

but seriously it can be super helpful when developing your own methodology, or just generally trying something new

Usually it starts with me pulling some references from artists I really admire and sort of sketching out how they do the things I like

For example 8um8le has like super good anatomy and poses so I focused on trying to replicate how they do that

venemous-qwille is super good at color and pulling focus so that's what I focused on in my study of them

In general I'd say my process is sketch -> silhouette -> color -> shading -> render

I really don't like doing lineart lol

I'd say for the sketch the most important part is using references and just kind of fudging it until it looks correct anatomically/physically

General rule of thumb is spend time on areas of interest, and keep non important areas light (like the stitching on his pants)

I don't do lineart because I think its unnecessary for most paintings I do

I naturally tend to put more time and focus on areas of interest (like hands and feet) and if you use a brush with opacity for the sketch, those areas are naturally going to be darker in the final sketch

Of course this is gonna be different for everyone but it's what works for me

Sometimes I do a really really sketchy layer underneath my sketch/lineart, just so I know where everything is going

Use thumbnails! They are great to help figure out the general layout of things and what pose I wanna do

Next is what I call the "silhouette" layer

This is super important for me cause it helps me refine the figure and make sure the pose/anatomy looks correct, also depending on what color I choose for the silhouette helps guide what colors I'm going to use on top

This piece is a good example of how it works. The silhouette shows me how the figure interacts with the background, how the pose looks and if its any good

The silhouette layer doesn't have to be super clean, as long as it follows the sketch decently well and shows where the figure is then its fine

I also sometimes make the silhouette layer multiple colors to help guide shading and vibe

Next is the coloring layer. I usually make this a clipping layer on top of the silhouette layer, or I change the silhouette layer to alpha lock, either way it saves me time on coloring everything in

Sometimes I am super rough with the coloring too, using like an airbrush or my fav watercolor brush just to generically block in color where I want it

Works out cause most objects have like a bounce light to them from surrounding objects, so this is sort of a cheat I use to get that effect without all the work lol

Also don't be afraid to have the lower silhouette layer shining through, having multiple colors sort of subtly shining through the piece helps lots

Next is the shading layer, this is usually another clipping layer, usually set to "multiply"

The colors I pick here is usually within this range, any color works, just depends on the piece and vibes.

Since this piece is set in a sunset forest I choose a more desaturated orange for the shading layer

I know there's a whole thing about multiply layer being a crutch (and it kind of it) but it is a useful tool when you just want some darker values across the piece but don't want to go through the process of color picking every single darker shade

Also in my opinion it looks better than picking a darker color and setting it to a lower opacity, idk I just think the color has more "depth"

Next is the hardest to explain, sort of the vibes layer

Usually its just a layer of more concentrated color on top of the normal color and I fudge with the settings and values until I get a result I like

Next is the longest step, is the "extra" or the render stage.

Usually I add a background before this step so that if I need to merge the figure better with the background I can

If I render with a white background but he's supposed to be in a dark forest, its going to mess with the lighting severely

Also this is when I add more "vibe" layers on top to get the figure to match the background better

Backgrounds in general I recommend checking out @/derekdomnicdsouza on instagram he's got lots of great tutorials for breaking down backgrounds simply

I'd say general rule for the rendering layer is to focus on the areas of interest and spend less time on areas you don't care about

I even blur stuff out on the edges I don't want people to see, partially to save time on fixing mistakes in areas I dont care about (oop), but mainly to help draw the eye to the areas I do want people to focus on

Theoretically parts of the background should like mesh with the characters, parrallel lines are a no no unless they are directing a viewer to look somewhere, things that are perpendicular help bring things together

tbh I'm still not the best at layout and probably need more practice, but overall this is what I like doing

Overall this is what my layer set up ends up being

Sort of a sandwich with the lineart/sketch as the "meat" lol

Color and basic shading below the sketch, clean-up and rendering on top

I like this method cause it's super flexible if I ever want to try something different or try to replicate someone's style

I can make each step less or more messy depending on the end result and can add a lineart layer if need be. Also if there's a part that is straight up not working or needs to be removed its super easy to do cause I can just paint over it on the "extras" layer, color picking from the surrounding area to get the same vibe

Generally rule of thumb for my style is: get the initial layout of colors, form and shading to look good, then the rendering should be smooth sailing

Really the best advice I can give to get better at art is to enjoy what you're doing and become very very obsessed with drawing a silly little guy

You'll eventually get very good at drawing them pfptpf

[fairyysoup]

the devil i know

chapter six: i don't need to feel the sun, let me touch your skin

(repost)

fic tag | fic playlist | fic masterlist

pairing(s): crossroads demon!eddie munson x fem!reader

summary: Eddie's dumbassery brings the cops to… a door. Not exactly his, though.

cw: fem masturbation mention, demonic shenanigans, mean!eddie but not to reader, murder, there are multiple minor character deaths and death mentions, gore, blood, animal death mention, eddie says ACAB, smoking, implied bullying/harassment towards reader, deal with a demon, inspired by american and european folklore, sacrilegious themes, dead dove: do not eat

please check masterlist and individual parts for content warnings before reading. this fic contains dark themes. this entire work is explicit. your media consumption is your own responsibility.

ALL OF MY WORKS ARE 18+ MINORS DNI

Eddie steps– read: stumbles– through the dusty mirror on the back of the closet door. This house he picked is one grade A shithole, but it’ll work for his purposes.

Ohhh, he’s so fucking mad. So mad. He would have stayed with you all night. He would have been there to force you to drink some water, eat some chocolate. Now that you’ve given him a chance– now that you’ve decided you want him– he would have stayed with you until you were crying from pleasure. You’re so fucking precious when you beg, and he’s a creature of pride. And lust. And gluttony and all those other fucking sins– something about becoming a demon has made them all multiply within him. 

If he’d stayed with you, he would have taken you to pieces. Pulled you apart and molded you to his whim, given you anything you asked for and more. Maybe he’d even coax you to another orgasm in your dreams; who knows? The possibilities were literally endless. 

But he’s not there with you. 

He’s here in Fuckass, Nowhere, because the cops decided to dig into your so-called ‘high school sweetheart,’ Eddie Munson.

Why the fuck he gave you his real name, he doesn’t know. Maybe because he wanted you to know it, to have it in your mind the way yours is in his, constantly. But he didn’t imagine the cops would try to look into it. 

But, of course they would, because shit like this never goes easy for him. And, of course they would decide to do it the day that he’s got a hot date to take care of.

Fucking cock blocks.

He had to leave you in your post-orgasmic haze to cause a power outage at the department of investigation before he could construct a fictitious Eddie Munson, who’d grown up in or around Eastwick. Sketchy background, a few minor felonies that don’t add up to shit, but warrant at least an arrest record. Something believable without being too on the nose.

The lamp lights flicker on and off as he moves through the trailer. The TV switches on without any physical force directing it to. He picks up a yellowing, half empty box of Marlboro reds from the end of the kitchen counter, and pulls one out of it. 

The previous owner of this house rots in a lake a mile away, a few months too late for the party. One of the good things about being a demon is that you can construct an alibi so easily, change names on house deeds and pay stubs and tax forms with the flick of a wrist. Make it so that something you say happened actually did happen, on paper. Erase something you don’t want there. 

The rug beneath his bare feet is rough, indoor-outdoor carpeting that the poor idiot who owned this house didn’t bother to switch out. Eddie’s dark jeans hang low on his hips, his chest bare and his hip bones jutting out at odd angles. He looks down and all his old tattoos are there, just the way he likes them. Your taste is still on his tongue, in the corners of his mouth, behind his teeth, reminding him of where he’d rather be. 

Eddie lights himself the cigarette as he peeks out of the kitchen window. In the yard, the coppers are rounding the rust bucket of a Volkswagen bug sitting in the tall grass.

He sits on the rickety wooden dining chair beside the door, listening to their footsteps as they mount the porch, whispering to each other. He hates cops. Always did, for obvious reasons, when he was human– but now that he’s beyond worldly measures, all they do is stick their noses in where they don’t belong.

Normally, he wouldn’t do this. A normal demon would allow the consequences of the deal you’d made to catch up with you. A normal demon would let you swim or drown when it comes to dealing with the repercussions, take their share from the deal and run away, allowing the contract to claim your soul. Just like his own demon did to him.

The thing that Eddie failed to mention to you when you cut that deal with him is that he would steal the sun just to keep you warm. He had already decided that he was in love with you when he got your petition, and he doesn’t know how to love passively. 

So, this is a walk in the park for him, all things considered.

Three knocks against the door cut over the sound of Scarface on the TV. Eddie shakes his head in solidarity at the house ghost floating in the corner, watching him with hollow eyes and creating a black hole where a lamp is supposed to be.

“Watch me fuck this up,” he whispers to it.

“Edward Munson?” The small one, Officer Leony, peers up at him with a blank expression when he opens the door. 

“Uh… yeah?” 

He stares down at her, leaning a naked shoulder against the doorframe, not bothering to extinguish his cigarette. He sucks in a long drag.

Christ, this thing tastes like ass. They don’t make ‘em like they used to. Cigarettes taste better when he just conjures them himself.

Eddie exhales a cloud of tobacco, somehow without pulling a face or retching. He’ll smell like smoke no matter what, and he’s sure that the heat of his hellfire radiates from his bare skin into the muggy air. Best to pretend it’s because he’s nothing but a smoker. He can feign mortality up to a point, and that’s where the uncanny valley sits. 

Seemingly to support this, Leony rocks back on her heels, but doesn’t step back the way she wants to.

“I’m Officer Leony, this is Officer Casey–” she gestures to the taller man beside her. “There’s been a disturbance at a town upstate, and we’re here to ask you a few questions about it, if that’s all right.”

Eddie shifts in place. Oh, no, he couldn’t have predicted this. “Can’t see what I’d have to do with something upstate.”

“Y’ever been to a little town called Eastwick?” Casey asks mildly. 

“I grew up a town over. Across the river.” Eddie lies. It gives him a certain thrill to lie to the cops again. It’s like riding a bike– you never really forget how, but sometimes you miss it when the weather’s right.

“Ever met a man named Andrew Montgomery?”

That piece of shit motherfucker. “Never heard of him.”

“He’s dating– dated– someone we think you may know,” Leony begins.

“You’ve got her name on your chest,” blurts Casey, who seems to be having trouble keeping his eyes on Eddie’s face, in favor of the glaring mark. “Nice, uh. Nice scar.”  

“It’s a brand.” Eddie can’t help the smirk that comes to his face when he glances down to see the raised tissue on his own skin. You’d only said that he burned your name on his chest, but he took that a step further and placed it over his heart. Go big or go home, right? “Not as pretty as she was, but it’s not like I can remove it.”

“Right.”  

A few paces away, in the trees, a pack of hounds snarl and bark like they’re having a real field day. 

“What’s that?” Casey nearly yelps, peering into the trees. He sees nothing. “Wolves?”

“No, those are just my dogs.” Eddie shrugs at him. He fights off a nervous laugh. “They get a little rowdy sometimes, y’know. No worries.”

Leony clears her throat. “Mr. Munson, we’re sure that given your… history, you’re no stranger to automotive accidents.”

Eddie’s eyes flick to her. “Accidents?” Accidents, referring to the spontaneously combusting car that a certain Edward Munson was held in custody for perpetrating, but was acquitted for lack of evidence.

Or something. He doesn’t exactly remember the wording he used on the fake case file. Not too on the nose, right?

“See, Mr. Montgomery’s vehicle exploded earlier today.”

“Shit, is he all right?” Pfffft. 

“Why would you assume he was harmed?” Leony asks, looking like she’s just caught him in a lie.

Eddie’s eyes flutter in annoyance. “I know cops. You don’t drive into the middle of nowhere to question someone for a bit of damaged property.”

Leony huffs. “You’re right. Mr. Montgomery is in the ICU, unfortunately. Severe burns all over his body. We just want to rule out any foul play. If you know anything at all…”

“Like I said, I’ve never heard of the guy before now.”

Leony nods, sucking on her teeth. “And, when was the last time you spoke to your ex-girlfriend?”

Eddie puffs out his cheeks, overdramatizing it. “Probably, uh…” Could be talking to her right now. “Five, six years?” 

“And you haven’t been back to Eastwick since then?”

“Why would I want to go back to that fuckin’ place?” Eddie growls. His anger isn’t entirely fake– he hates small towns. 

“I can think of one reason.” Leony’s eyes fall to your name burned onto his heart. “Mr. Munson, I’m sure you’re… aware of your ex-girlfriend’s reputation within the town.”

“Reputation,” Eddie parrots.

“As a witch.” Casey says it so frankly, as if it holds some kind of merit.

Eddie bristles and looks back and forth between them. “R’you telling me that two cops actually believe in that kind of horseshit?”

“Witchcraft isn’t illegal, even if it… were real…” Leony explains hesitantly, while Eddie tries to keep smoke from blowing out of his ears. “But rumors like that don’t form in a vacuum. We have reason to believe she may have tried to harm Mr. Montgomery. If the rumors are true– which, usually they are in these cases, she has a bit of a reputation for being unusual. We just wondered if you can recall any sort of odd behavior… besides the obvious.”

Another pointed look at the brand on his chest.

EDDIE.

Eddie glances up at the moon in the evening sky, waxing its way to full. It’s a little more than halfway there.

EDDIE. EDDIE. EDDIE.

You’re calling him. He can sense the need in your body, sees flashes of your hands moving down your stomach and dipping beneath the fabric of your pajamas. You’re just lying there, focusing all your energy on him. 

Touching yourself to the thought of him.

Your voice is ringing in his ears, screaming for him to leave this place and go to you. He fights not to wince at the volume of it. 

EDDIE I NEED YOU RIGHT NOW RIGHT NOW RIGHT NOW–

Fuck, he wishes he didn’t have to do this shit. 

Eddie clenches his jaw, squeezing the door jamb so hard that he leaves scorch marks in the plaster in the shape of his fingerprints. He’s mad that he can’t be with you as soon as you call, and he hates that this is keeping him away from you.

He hates what they’ve done to you, ostracized you the way that his own small town did to him. Witchcraft. Devil worship. Unusual equals murder. Even if you are a witch, even if he is the closest thing to the devil you’ll know, he hates the way that these cops talk about you like they know you, or what you’ve been through. 

“Believe me,” he snaps, letting his temper get the better of him, “If she ever did anything unusual, it’s because she had a damn good reason to. Hell, I’d rather burn that whole fuckin’ town to the ground than see her suffer in it anymore.”

Leony’s mouth twitches up at the corners. “Is that so?”

Eddie blinks.

You fucked it up, comes the whispering voice of the ghost in the corner.

“Shit.” Eddie presses his lips together, and tosses his burning cigarette into the dead grass next to the porch. He lifts his two fingers to his lips and whistles loudly. 

Snarling and barking, a pack of shadowy dogs bound out of the trees. Red eyes glow from each smoky figure, varying in size and shape, but all made of the same infernal aether. 

Casey tries to run. Leony tries pulling her gun. The juxtaposition between the two officers is laughable, but ultimately, they both meet the same fate between the jaws of the hellhounds that swarm them. 

Eddie doesn’t see where Casey gets dragged off to– somewhere in the trees, the shouts take a little bit to die down. Leony’s throat gets ripped out first, so all he hears from her is a faint gurgling that slowly gets overshadowed by the sound of crackling as a fire catches on in the grass. 

“Never trust a demon to make things easy,” he sighs, and takes a seat on the porch. It’ll take a few minutes before the fire really gets going on the wood, and by that time he’ll be gone. 

He’ll make sure this doesn’t get back to you. It just means another trip into the computers at the department of investigation, and those wires are really fucking tight to squeeze into.

Eddie whistles shortly. “Cerberus. Stop it, you’re making a mess.” 

The Doberman spirit drops the decapitated head he’d been using as a chew toy, flinging blood all over the yellow grass. Instead, the German Shepherd spirit beside him immediately snatches it and throws it across the yard before chasing after it. 

Eddie glares. “Sauron. Bad dog.”

Out of the mix of shadowy dogs and flying body parts, a tinier hellhound than all the rest trundles up. It’s the newest of the bunch, still in need of training– but Eddie’s not entirely sure that he wants to train it to be like the rest. 

Dogs will be dogs, even in the afterlife. He chose the others for their ferocity. Most of them were the losers of dog fights; innocent animals that never asked to be put through the pain and torture that they got in life, but were trained to be killers nonetheless. They’re protective, loyal, and at times bloodthirsty.

This one is different. This dog has never killed, never maimed, never hurt anything in its little life. This one chose Eddie, sought him out, wandering through the Otherworld as a messenger with a piece of copper in its mouth.

Lacey crawls up into Eddie’s lap on her tiny legs, her little red eyes blinking slowly as she settles down onto his thighs, just like she did when she’d delivered your petition. She’d found him lounging against a tree, emerged from the mist and dropped the copper into his outstretched hand. Made a home for herself in his lap as the details of your petition rolled around in his mind, and all at once he decided you were beginning and end of everything for him. 

He would have given her back to you– she’s the one that you miss, but she’s too young of a spirit to be able to manifest as a physical dog yet. 

But she’s a cuddly thing. He can understand why you loved her so much. He feels a little bit of that love well up in his own heart, underneath your name branded across it.

His hand pets her smoky back as the fire in the grass reaches the porch. 

EDDIE WHERE THE FUCK ARE YOU EDDIE EDDIE EDDIE–

Shit, you’re persistent.

[saewokhrisz]

have u ever talked anywhere about your coloring or composition processes? u are honestly one of my favorite artists and i would love to hear any insight on how you make pieces 💓

wahh thank you TTT !!! I did sorta give a very simplistic answer here but it was more of my simpler sketchy style so lemme redo that, ill try to be consise and make this understandable ?? its a bit hard cuz it honest to god depends on what Kind of piece im even drawing, cuz for some i go the whole length of doing lineart flats and all that, others i just just fuck around untill it looks right?

i do usually start with a rough sketch or colour draft, especially with more compley pieces this helps with figuring out the feel, honestly i should spend more time drafting properly, figuring out poses and such but im so lazy i just go w the first thing that looks good

then just lines over the colour draft, fixing lots of anatomy and proportion stuff, and depending on how i wanna do the colours ill either keep the colour layers or merge them together and have the edited colours as the base colour (this might not even make sense help)

see this piece at the time gave me an insane ammount of trouble with lighting and colours, so after trying to render i ended up merging everything together....which i dont USUALLY do but the rendering is pretty similar except usually i have colours be seperated by layer,

ANYWAYS sadly i dont have a process on how it got from flats to this specific render for this piece...but i still followed my initial drafts/plans with vibe and colours and just painted over it, its why i make it after all!

but honestly a lot of times its just very simple colours and just trying to mainting good contrast and values !!!! and THEN fucking around with colours and rextures, for other pieces i kinda just paint as i go? i have this timelapse of my justice piece that may be a bit more help!

it includes the initial colour draft, the cleanup/lining process, flats, rendering, and all that so its probs the most accurate timelapse of my morecomplex work processes, with stuff that doesnt include heavier backgrounds, which is a whole OTHER topic honestly

im sorry if i cant explain it more cohesively, i genuinely barely know what im doing most times and go by muscle memory and stuff i Know but cant. Explain? like i know how light and folds work since i observed and studied them but i cannot put it into words at all )--)0

my brushes also contribute a lot to how i render and colour, depending on what i use, you can find the swatches for them here !

[megu-meow]

take my breath - sukuna

Part 4 of my Hockey Player Sukuna Series - Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3

Lmk if you want to be added to the tag list! :D

This part is shit, I'm sorry. After TTPD I found myself unable to write fluff, but I've kept people waiting, so I had to force myself to write this.

When Sukuna says soon, he means the next Thursday. He calls you on Wednesday after practice to ask you formally whether you could keep your schedule open for the next evening and you agree, because you have been waiting for your date for a few days now. However, you find yourself frustratedly trying on every piece of clothing you own, being indecisive about what to wear. You want to look good for him, because as you shyly admitted to your brother, you really like Sukuna. He's rough around the edges, but he seems like a good guy, unlike all the other people you've dated before. You contemplate calling one of the girls, but Senna and Akane love to gossip, and for the time being, you'd like to keep this little date with Sukuna a secret. So you call the only person you can trust in this situation.

Sophia arrives ten minutes after calling her saying you need help getting dressed for a date. She's the only one of the girls who knows that you have something going on with Sukuna, it makes total sense to reach out to her in your current circumstance. You already made her swear on your brother's life that she's not going to say anything about it to the girls, so you're safe in that regard. Plus, she has a keen sense of style, which comes in handy considering you want to impress the pink-haired centerman with your looks. You noticed already how many pretty girls were wearing his jersey to games, you know that he could have any of them at his disposal in a second. It still seems sketchy that he became so fond of you in such a short period of time, but you're not complaining.

"He was so nervous when I left, Kento thought he was going to explode." Sophia says as you try to put socks on, balancing on one foot.

"Who was?" you look at her and you nearly kiss the ground, regaining your balance at the last second.

"Sukuna, of course. He's been pacing around the apartment like a maniac all day."

"Really?" you ask timidly.

"Yeah. Kento said he had never seen him so stressed." for some reason hearing this makes you smile and your heart warm. Sukuna doesn't strike you as someone who would be nervous about dates, but you already learned not to assume anything about him, because he always surprises you with the way he acts.

"I'm kinda nervous too. I want this to go well." you explain and you try to put your earrings in. As you look at yourself in the mirror, wearing the outfit your sister-in-law put together, you're content with your reflection. You look amazing and you feel confident in the pieces you're wearing. Your makeup and hair are done in your usual way, you don't want to look like a completely different person. Apparently, Sukuna agrees that you look good. Because the moment you open your door for him, he freezes in place, with his eyes wide and glimmering. For a second you think something is wrong, but those thoughts are quickly dismissed as he speaks.

"You look beautiful, y/n." he states, his voice softer than you've ever heard. He is wearing a burgundy suit, one that complements his skin tone. His hair is sleeked back, but it still looks effortless in a way. You can smell his usual cologne, the musky scent that lingers. It suits him.

"Says you, handsome." you compliment him back and you swear a blush appears on his cheek. Suddenly, he remembers something, and he gives you the flowers he was hiding behind his back all this time. "Thank you! What happened to all flowers are stupid?" you ask as you smell the peonies in your hand.

"Well I got you some sunflowers, but your brother told me I was insane, so he dragged me to a florist to get 'ones that girls actually like'." he explains.

"He's right, you know? You made me wait four days for this date, the least you can do is give me some girly flowers." you joke and he rolls his eyes. Nonetheless, he reaches out for your hand. You slip it in his palm, which is calloused from holding a hockey stick most hours of a day, but very warm.

"Listen, woman, I made you wait because I wanted to take you to a 3 Michelin Star restaurant that specializes in your favorite food." he explains as he opens the door of his car for you to hop in.

"What?" you ask in shock before he closes the door after you. He leans down, looking into your eyes with a smirk across his face.

"You heard me, y/n. Now, don't be so shocked, I told you I would go all out for our date."

"You didn't have to though. You could have taken me to a hole-in-the-wall ramen place and I would have liked it." you say, slightly feeling bad "How did you manage to get a table anyway? These places are booked months ahead."

"The owner is a huge Wizards fan and apparently I'm his kid's favorite player. I had the team sign a jersey and got them season tickets, so they were glad to do me a small favor in return." he explains like it is nothing, but it means the world to you. No one has ever done something so grand for a date with you. It makes your heartbeat go nuts and you can't help but stare at him as he drives. You observe his tattooed hand that is on the armrest, shaking slightly. You smile and instinctively take it in yours, laying your intertwined hands in your lap. He turns his head towards you in shock, but he quickly looks back to the road. The blush from before returns, even his neck turns pink, and you smile, adoring his reactions.

The dinner goes by fast, despite lasting for hours. The food is exquisite, as expected. Most importantly, there's not one dull moment. You and Sukuna talk like you've known each other your whole lives. He asks about your interests, what you like to do in your free time, where you went to school, and about your friends. He seems interested in everything you talk about, he listens with an intensity you find rare. He drinks up every single word that leaves your mouth, he asks questions, and he's genuinely curious about how you perceive the world. You ask him plenty of questions yourself and he answers them gladly. He seems very fond of his brothers, he shows you pictures of them and you observe how Yuji has the same color hair as him and Choso has a very similar line tattooed on his nose as Sukuna's.

"They're coming to town soon, by the way." he comments and your eyes light up.

"How come?"

"It's Yuji's draft year and it's held here in Tokyo. Choso just tags along because he clings to that brat like a leech."

"That's so rude!" you exclaim, but you're smiling. You're aware that Sukuna probably shows his love towards his brothers a little bit peculiarly.

"Well, it's true."

"Do you see a chance of Yuji being drafted by the wizards?" you ask.

"Not really. He is prospected to be in the top three of the draft and we are clinching the playoffs this next game as number one in the league. We probably won't have a pick in the top ten."

"I'm sorry to hear that. It would have been cool for him to have you on the team he's drafted to."

"I don't think so. If I'm being honest, I'm glad there is little to no chance for that to happen as of now."

"Why is that?"

"He won't have a target on his back. Otherwise, people would be mean to him and would rough him up with the sole purpose of pissing me off. This way he can become a professional player without being concussed every game."

"You're very protective of your brothers, huh?" you ask and he smiles.

"You could say that." he smirks "I'm protective of everything I own, you know." he adds looking into your eyes deeply. You know there is a deeper meaning behind his words. He's implying that he would be just as safeguarding about you if you were his girlfriend. You find it hard to believe that a guy like him exists. He is so charming but respectful. He is attentive, you mentioned one time what your favorite food was and he remembered, moreover, he went out of his way to get you the best version available of it.

"Where were you my whole life?" you ask, not realizing that you blurted out your thoughts just like that. You feel embarrassed as your hands fly to your runny mouth, covering it. However, Sukuna just laughs. He rarely laughs like this. It comes deep from within, the type that shakes your whole body and you're sure you're red like a lobster as you observe him.

"Sweetheart, I've been asking that question about you since December." he answers, his charming smile never fading.

"December?" you question.

"Oh, I thought your brother told you about that too." he seems shocked, but he continues "I've spotted you in the crowd at the Family Game in Kyoto. I was mesmerized, I even ran into one of my teammates on accident, I was too preoccupied with looking at the angel in the Wizards jersey."

"Oh, I remember that. I was laughing about that with Akane." you recall and Sukuna frowns "So you've had your eyes sat on me since then?"

"Well, I didn't know I was going to meet you on my first day in Tokyo while I was shirtless, but destiny has its way, I guess."

"You believe we were destined to meet?"

"I told you before, sweetheart, I am superstitious. Take that as you want, but I do think we are here having dinner for a reason." he explains.

Your date ends when the restaurant staff asks you nicely to leave because they've been closed for two hours already. You didn't even realize that all the other customers had left and the staff was ready to close. Sukuna pays for the bill and he sends you a death glare when you offer to pay for your part. "Woman, you won't have to pay for anything while you are out with me." he states, irritation evident in his tone. He also drives you home and walks you to your door. You're wearing his suit jacket, because you were a bit cold, although he turned the heater on in the car.

"Thank you for tonight! I had a lot of fun." you smile up at him, as you're trying to say goodbye on your doorstep.

"There is nothing to be thankful for, you got what you deserve, princess." he says and he seems a little bit disappointed, but you're not able to determine why. Maybe the date didn't go as well in his perspective as you thought.

"Is something wrong? Did I say something to offend you?" you ask in panic and he quickly shakes his head, dismissing it. Suddenly the redness returns to hiss tattooed cheeks and he suddenly seems nervous.

"I just thought I deserved a kiss after that." he whispers shyly, his face down, gaze locked on the tip of his shoes.

It's your turn to laugh at his awkwardness, but you still cup his cheeks in your hands and pull him in for a kiss. You don't quite understand where all this fearlessness came into you from, but you're glad it did because the kiss is magical. It's soft but eager and you can feel him smiling into it as his large hands find their destined spot in your hips. You're the one to break the kiss, but Sukuna pulls you in closer, resting his forehead on yours, and looking deeply into your eyes. His smile reaches his ears and he whispers to you softly:

"I hate to break it to you princess, but I don't think I can go on with my life without doing that every day."

You smile, and respond with a smile just as wide as his "Good, because I don't think I can either."

The next day is game day and you arrive at your brother's apartment beforehand. You usually drive with them to the arena. Sukuna emerges from his room in his game-day suit, his eyes glowing up the moment he sees you there.

"We're gonna be down at the car, Bambi." Sophia says as she and Kento leave in a hurry.

Sukuna steps closer to you, embracing you, his muscular arms around your shoulders.

"Hello, princess! How are you?"

"I'm great, Sukuna. Thank you for asking! How are you?"

"Better now that I know you're coming to the game to cheer me on." you smile, stepping away from the embrace, and you look into his eyes. "Are you gonna give me a good luck kiss or what?"

You're surprised by his boldness, but you leave a peck on his lips nonetheless.

"If I do good today, you're gonna have to do that before every game." he states.

"Alright. You've got yourself a deal." you smile and you urge him out the door, before your brother and his wife could start thinking that you're doing something inappropriate in their home.

Good does not describe the way Sukuna plays that night. He has one of the best games of his life and after the first goal, as his celebration, he looks towards where you're standing and points at you with a wide smile on his face. This is your sign that from now on, you're gonna have to keep your promise of giving him a good luck kiss before every game.

🩵 Tag list: @ichorstainedskin @ureuphoriasworld @new-weather47 @deepchromatose @cvr2mya @janrcrosssing @bakuhoes-bxtch @deluluforcarlos55 @stainednailpolishremover @thejujvtsupost @bleachisfood @dorck26 @chilichopsticks @when-worlds-end 🩵

[cirilla-fiona-riannon]

The Day We Learned to Argue ~Part 1~

This is simply a fan translation and is not intended as a replacement for the game. Expect grammatical errors.

This is just a rough translation.

One sunny afternoon, away from the bustling city, two men with strikingly similar eyes crossed paths.

Rio & Silvio: "Ah."

They both murmured and grimaced simultaneously.

Rio: "......."

Silvio: "Why are you here?"

Rio: "It's none of your business! Ow, ow, ow! Let go!"

Rio: "Fine, I'll talk, just let me go!"

Rio: "Lately, the kids have been spreading a rumor that a monster haunts this place."

Rio: "I had a bad feeling after hearing that, so I came to check the situation."

Rio: "It's close to Emma's walking path, so I wouldn't want her to be in danger."

Silvio furrowed his eyebrows in confusion as he gazed at Rio, who smiled happily at the memory of his master.

Silvio: "........."

Rio: "What's with that face? Kids have this incredible knack for sniffing sketchy places, you know?"

Rio: "Even if the rumors seem far-fetched, there could be unexpected incidents hidden behind them."

Silvio: "Did you remember一"

Rio: "Are you curious, by any chance?"

Rio: "My master, who is popular with people of all ages, heard a story before."

Rio: "The Great Fairy Incident: The Story of a Beautiful and Miracleous Encounter between an Unexpected Fairy and一"**

Silvio: "Shut up. If you don't shut your mouth right now, I'll shove those mushrooms growing over there in your mouth."

Rio: "That's a poisonous mushroom. Are you trying to kill me!?"

Rio: "Anyway, why are you here? I told you my story, so tell me yours."

Silvio: "Hah! I heard a rumor about a giant monster that likes jewels."

Rio: "So you're the same as me, huh?"

As Rio mumbled and Silvio smirked, a rustling sound echoed, and then several rough-looking men emerged from the bushes.

Silvio: "Looks like your bad feeling was right."

Rio: "Seems like it."

Rio: "But with this, I can keep Emma out of danger. I can handle them easily."

Silvio: "........."

Rio: "What's wrong?"

Silvio: "I was just thinking of testing your skills."

Rio: "Sure, go ahead. Watch, and I'll finish this quickly."

A man with a lewd grin drew his sword, and at the same time, Rio pulled out a knife from his pocket.

Silvio: "Watching from the sidelines doesn't suit me. I'll help you, so be grateful."

Silvio also drew his sword, pointing it at the men.

The men momentarily faltered in the face of the duo's determination. However, they quickly remembered their advantage and regained their composure, launching an attack.

Easily dodging the simple and uncoordinated attacks, Silvio and Rio found themselves back-to-back, effortlessly fending off their opponents.

Rio: "They outnumber us, but this is a piece of cake."

Silvio: "I agree. I don't feel like losing."

Silvio: "This time, it's easier since you're not dragging me down."

Rio: "What do you mean, 'this time'?"

Silvio: "Nothing."

------------Flashback-----------

When the two were still children, under the dazzling sunlight on the shores of the Benitoite sea一

Valerio & Silvio: "Ah."

Valerio: "........."

Silvio: "What are you doing here?"

Valerio: "It's none of your business."

Silvio: "Shut up. Talk, or I'll stuff this shellfish in your mouth!"

Valerio: "Ugh, it definitely looks poisonous. If I eat it, I'll die."

Silvio: "If you don't wanna die, then say it already."

Valerio: "I heard there's a monster here, so I came to check it out."

Valerio: "That rumor has been going around among the local kids."

Valerio: "One of the noble kids heard it from a servant's child and told me secretly."

Valerio: "What about you, big brother?"

Silvio: "I'm here for an inspection."

Part 1 ╎ Part 2 ╎ Part 3 ╎ Part 4

[kyluxpostitproject]

Hey, hey! There's a new Kylux Event Under Construction here!

Kylux Fandom has had a lot of glorious creative works produced over the years and we, the fans past and present, all appreciate them a lot! For every finished work that sees the light of public posting, though, there are many more WIPS and sketches that do not. Not everything must be shared, of course; not everything is meant to be.

That said... There is great beauty, too, in that which is unfinished, rough around the edges, incomplete. Many of us are susceptible to thinking we must achieve perfection before we post; polishing a work a little more, and little more, forever unsure if it is 'good enough' or 'done enough'. Often we never get around to sharing it at all. Or maybe we have a project that goes unfinished as we move on to other ideas that inspire us - that sort of piece has it's own kind of inherent beauty, too! And there is a saying that goes something like this: "Perfect is the enemy of Done." There are plenty of wonderful fandom events, past and present, that spark the creation of new works and the sharing of finished pieces....we hope to also make an event that encourages all the fans who wish to share and appreciate the many creations that are in-progress or permanently-unfinished, draft-stage or sketchy! So that's what the Kylux Post-It Project aims to celebrate: the beauty of that which is partially-formed, the glory of the WIP! Get ready to post your unfinished business this May 13-19! (more details to come)

[marble-anime]

Toxic Fan Culture

Pairing: Isaac Foster x Reader

Summary: The infamous serial killer, Isaac Foster, meets someone akin to a fan that would love nothing more than to please their idol.

Disclaimer: Minors DNI

Warnings: mentions of violence, cursing, blowjob, unprotected sex, rough sex, creampie

Word Count: 2.4k

You’ve been down here for days. Weeks? Maybe even months. You weren’t sure. Not getting a beam of sunlight or a breath of fresh air made the days blur together. You didn’t mind though. As long as you were with him it didn’t bother you. You’d heard of him before, everyone had. The rumors of the laughing reaper spread like wildfire. The infamous Isaac Foster. It came as a shock to everyone when the killings ceased, it seemed like he had just up and vanished. Who would’ve thought that all this time he was hiding in the basement of a chapel?

You always wondered what happened to him. You’d walk down dark sketchy alleyways just to see if he’d pop out and grab you. Ever since you were a child you knew to keep your morbid fascinations to yourself. Having been on the receiving end of many distasteful stares as you shared your analyses about different serial killers and what went on in their minds. That paired with your constant, abnormal, state of arousal branded you as a ‘freak’.

Personally, you thought you were completely normal. After all, you’d been this way for as long as you could remember. What else were you supposed to think? Perhaps you watched one too many horror movies as a kid. Or maybe you were just born with a few screws loose. The only downside was that he found you as off-putting and disturbing as everyone else did.

Zack thought you were insane. Normally the sacrifices were terrified from the moment they stepped a foot onto his floor. And rightfully so, being abducted and waking up in an elevator lowering down to a basement that looked like an escape room brought to life.

You were the one exception. Either you were good at hiding your terror or you truly weren’t afraid in the slightest, waltzing out of the elevator as calm and collected as you could be. But that was about to change.

Unbeknownst to you he’d been stalking you as you made your way through his killing grounds, waiting for the right moment to reveal himself. He quickly grew bored of your blank face and hid inside a boarded-up alleyway, listening to the sound of your footsteps getting louder the closer you got. When he heard you on the other side he swung his scythe. Cutting through the boards and almost killing you right then and there.

Your eyes were wide, mouth agape, as you watched the bandaged monster step out of the alley, wooden shards crunching beneath his boots. It was the way he psychotically laughed at your shocked expression that tipped you off.

In your starstruck daze, you reached out to touch him, asking, “You’re Isaac Foster right?”

He pushed you away, suddenly being reminded of an encounter he had similar to this one. A woman reaching out a shaky hand, trying to seduce him into letting her go. Her facade crumbled to dust immediately when he rejected her advances. Although being lied to left a sour taste in his mouth, he couldn’t deny how gratifying it was to cut her up into pieces. And soon your body would be sliced open as you cry and scream for him to stop just like she did.

“I’ll give you till the count of three to run,” he started his usual spiel, holding up three fingers for emphasis. “One.” You just stared at him. Poor thing, he thought sadistically, you must be frozen in fear. “Two.” He raised his scythe. “Three.” You were hit by a gust of wind as the blade cut through the air, stopping only millimeters away from your neck.

“Huh?” His excitement vanished, replaced by confusion. “Why the hell aren’t you runnin’?”

“Hey.” Your fingers grazed the blade, lowering it from your neck as you stared at the man in front of you in awe, “How long have you been hiding down here? And what exactly is this place? Are there more serial killers in this building or just you?”

Frustrated by your curiosity, he threatened to hurt you. Unfortunately for him, it didn’t deter you from asking him anything and everything you could think of. His first instinct was to kill you, especially with that giddy look on your face, but the way you looked at him gave him the creeps.

So he ended up letting you live. It was the same old song and dance every day since then. He would distance himself from you while you constantly pursued him, sometimes even romantically. God, the thought made him want to vomit. How sick in the head were you to want to have a fling with a literal serial killer? Regardless, he had to get rid of you soon or he was gonna lose his mind even more than he already had.

He was lounging on the couch in his room, trying to get some rest when he heard the door open. He groaned, “What now?”

When you didn’t answer he turned his head to look at you. His body went stiff at the sight of you. You hid behind the doorway as you peeked inside the room. Your body was trembling, short breaths escaping your parted lips. You looked terrified. You gasped as your eyes met his and you took off. Almost as if he was possessed, he quickly grabbed his scythe and ran after you.

Adrenaline pumping through his veins, his laugh bouncing off the walls, as he chased you through his floor. You disappeared into the room at the end of the hall and closed the door behind you. Zack slammed his shoulder into the door, nearly knocking it off the hinges. He paused as he entered the room. You didn’t try to run or hide. You just stood there with that fearful expression, batting your eyelashes as you spoke, “Please don’t kill me, sir. I’ll do anything.”

“What the hell are you talking about?” As his head cleared, he realized what you were doing. He gripped the handle of his scythe in anger. “You were faking it?”

“It was the only way to get you to pay attention to me,” you said.

He was seething as you approached him. You shoved him, catching him off guard as his back hit the wall. “Hey!”

“You have a scythe,” you pointed out, pressing your body up against his. “You can stop me if you really want to.”

Zack’s eyes never left you as you leaned in to kiss his lips. He watched you for a moment, not moving a muscle. He didn’t know why he was letting this happen, anyone else would be a red splatter on the pavement. If it weren’t for his pride he might’ve been able to entertain the idea that maybe he enjoyed the way you looked at him. Your eyes filled with adoration like he was your idol, desperate for his attention. Even now, when you touched him you were as gentle as could be, not wanting to hurt him.

Lids fluttering shut, he began to move his lips against yours. Butterflies erupted in your stomach as he kissed back. You hummed in contentment and stood on your toes. The kiss heated up quickly with both of you releasing your pent-up tension. He craned his neck, trying to keep up with you. His hood fell to his shoulders as you ran your hands through his hair. You gasped into each other's mouths for oxygen. He flinched away when he felt your tongue graze his lips.

Looking up at him, you could see the hint of arousal in his heterochromia eyes. Being desired by him made you feel like you were on top of the world. You dropped to your knees and began undoing his pants.

“What are you doing?” he asked, not bothering to stop you.

“Sucking your dick.” You pulled his pants down just enough for his hard cock to spring out. You teased, “Are you always hard when you kill or is this just for me?”

“Shut up,” he spat through gritted teeth as he anxiously awaited your next move.

You kissed from the base of his cock to the tip before taking it into your mouth. “Shit!” The loud clang of the scythe hitting the ground echoed through the room. He fought off a moan, your mouth felt so good. Hollowing your cheeks, you bobbed your head, stroking what you couldn’t fit in your mouth with your hand.

You felt him brush his fingers against your shoulder, not sure where to put his hands. You halted your movements and swirled your tongue around the tip as you grabbed his wrist. You placed his hand on the back of your head, helping him nudge you forward. He quickly picked up on what you were trying to tell him and pushed your head down his cock. He tried to get your lips all the way down to the base, relishing in the sound of you gagging on his dick.

“Fuck.” The tears pooling in your eyes as he violated your throat was doing more for him than it should have. You held eye contact with him as tears ran down your cheeks. You reached a hand up to grab his hip, trying to pull him towards you. He thrusted into your mouth, tangling his bandaged fingers in your hair to get better control of your head. You allowed him to go as fast as he wanted, taking all he had to give. Of course, with Zack being Zack, he set a brutal pace.

Saliva ran down your chin as he violently fucked your face, aggressive grunts and groans leaving his mouth. You gripped his thigh when he shoved his entire cock down your throat, breathing through your nose so you didn’t suffocate. You went to touch his balls but it wasn’t needed, the vibrations from you choking on his cock was enough. Both of his hands held you in place as his salty cum flooded your mouth.

You slurped it down and pulled off his cock, noticing that it was still hard. When you got back on your feet he beat you to the punch. With his hand cradling your face, he pulled you into a deep kiss that had your knees going weak. He lifted you by your thighs and you wrapped your legs around his waist. Without breaking the kiss he walked back to his room and threw you down on the couch.

As you both quickly undressed he warned, “I’ve never really…”

“It’s fine.” You threw your clothes on the ground and stood up. “Just lay down and I’ll guide you through it.”

Zack laid on the couch, completely bare except for the bandages wrapped around his body, and you climbed on top of him. You grabbed his cock, rubbing the tip against your slick pussy. “Ready?”

“Yeah,” he nodded.

You slowly sunk down on his cock until every inch of his was inside you. The air left Zack’s lungs, his jaw dropping at the sensation of your pussy sucking him in. A stunned expression adorning his face, you asked, “You okay?”

He squirmed beneath you, adjusting to the new feeling. “It’s so warm.”

You smiled, placing your hands on his chest and rolling your hips. Zack tried to hold back from cumming right then. In an attempt to distract himself from your velvety walls massaging him, he teased you just as you had done to him, “Do you fuck all serial killers you come across or is it just me?”

Knowing what he was doing, you answered, “Just you,” and began to bounce on his cock. “Damn it.” He knew he wasn't going to last long. Throwing his head back, he tried not to watch your boobs bounce as you fucked yourself on his cock. But you weren’t gonna make it easy for him. “You wanna feel ‘em?” You placed his hand on your breast and, unable to resist, he groped and kneaded your boob. His other hand traced up your voluptuous curves, taking note of how soft your skin was compared to his burned flesh.

“Ah, Zack!” you moaned, reaching down to rub your clit. Your walls clenched around him as his hips bucked into you, hitting your sweet spot. “Keep doing that.”

His hands found their way to your waist, helping you rock back and form as he thrusted up into your warm, wet, cunt. “Just like that.” Feeling his cock twitch inside you and the growls that left his throat, you knew he was close. So you raced to get yourself to the edge before he reached it himself. But honestly, it wasn’t all that hard. As inexperienced as he was, he was still so fucking sexy. And the way he manhandled you earlier left your skin burning with desire.

“Harder.” His nails dug into your flesh, bracing you for what was to come. He pounded his cock into you, leaving you breathless as he used you for his own pleasure. Your moans became irregular and choked up at the feel of his erratic thrust hitting deep inside you. You gasped, body convulsing as your orgasm rippled through you. He gave you one last powerful thrust before emptying his balls deep inside you.

As he lowered his hips, you kept yourself steady by leaning your hands on his torso. “That was amazing.” Zack hummed in response, trying to catch his breath. He was shocked by your next words, “You wanna go another round?”

“You can’t wait five minutes before your tryin’ to bang me again?!” he asked, his cock was still sensitive from your previous activities.

“I just love sex,” you shrugged. “If you could kill people all day then wouldn’t you?”

“Duh,” he said as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“Well that's what it's like with me,” you explained, “just with sex instead of murder.”

He frowned at your flushed face as he contemplated it in his head. Damn you, he thought, you were still looking at him with that loving expression. Sighing, he said, “Give me ten minutes and we can go again.”

“Yay!” you cheered.

You grabbed a blanket that was hanging off of the armrest and used it to cover you both. Zack grimaced when you placed sweet kisses on his chest. “The hell are you doing that for?”

“I’m giving you affection.” You cuddled into him, looking up at him with big doe eyes.

“Gross.” He closed his eyes, letting you hold him close as you both rested. Maybe keeping you around for a while wouldn’t be such a bad idea. “Do it again.”

[seraphimcollections]

drunk daze | NSFW Price/Reader | +18

warnings: MINORS DNI !!!! P?rn with plot, slight size kink, rough, club sex, sex pollen, multiple orgasms, sex with a superior, mutual pining, allusions to masturbation, NSFW FOR GOD'S SAKE!! Pure filth. No mention of Y/N but readers codename is "Kit"

...I regret nothing.

summary: you, Gaz and Price are all on a mission to locate a mysterious bio-weapon, the likes of you and your dear captain get an acquaintance with ;)

words: 5k <.<

a/n: ...just gonna leave this here...

______________________________________________________________

You could barely raise your chest to bring in breath. You felt like you were on fire, every inch of you covered in a thin film of sweat glimmering in the dingy lights of the cramped restroom. You sat on the toilet lid, your back arched and your head leaned over so that your hair could pool at the bottom of the basin. Cool running water ran over your locks in an attempt to increase your rising temperature. Little to say, it wasn’t working.

Oh, that’s right, you were on a mission, the objective completely forgotten at this point. You’re mind a haze, all you could think about was trying to hang on to the last piece of sanity holding you back from making a stupid decision. Your lips parted, you let out a strangled moan, trying your best to focus your gaze.

“Love,” his voice alone was able to cut through all the noise.

You looked up into his honeyed gaze, finding salvation. You smiled at him, hand reaching to catch on his tee.

“I really fucked us didn’t I,” you eyes swirled with lust staring up to the bearded man, “Captain.”

Four hours earlier, Gaz and Captain Price touched down in Tokyo, assigned to a special mission to retrieve a rumored bio-weapon.

“And we don’t have any other intel on this, Laswell?” You ask, all three of you standing around the laptop.

“All we know is that it's highly effective and mind-altering, but we’ll get the information we need once we’ve retrieved it,” Laswell said over the call.

“And this supposed bio-weapon is hidden inside this club?” Gaz said skeptically.

“Well, if I were an evil mastermind trying to hide the next hottest bio-weapon, I’d want to hide it in plain sight,” you shrugged.

“Alright, all that’s left is to get ready,” Price said, standing to his feet, “Gaz will be positioned in the building across from the club while you and I infiltrate and attempt to locate the weapon. Boots on the ground by 19:00 hours.”

You turned and waved over your shoulder as you walked toward your separate room, “can’t rush beauty, Cap!”

Gaz rolled his eyes with a chuckle, hearing the door click shut.

“Not going to lie, Captain,” Gaz smiled, “I’d kill to be in your position. Respectfully, of course.”

“Right,” Price smirked, slapping a hand on Gaz’ shoulder, “stay sharp, Gaz.”

Thirty minutes before departure time, Price sat in one of the hotel armchairs, helping himself to a cool glass of Scotch. Of course it wasn’t even close to being as good as his regular, but it would definitely be better than the drinks they’d be serving at the sketchy club he was heading to.

Instead of wearing his usual uniform, he had changed into something a bit more colloquial, a simple pair of jeans and a gray tee underneath his bomber. A beanie had replaced his trusty bucket hat. Sighing, he flicked his wrist to look at the time before his eyes shot to your door for what felt like the 10th time in 20 minutes. What was taking you so long, he thought. He had massively underestimated what went into making you look presentable, that much was apparent.

Finally, he heard your door open before the clacking of your heels on the hardwood. John felt his mouth go dry as his gaze climbed up your long legs, up to the short hemline of your skimpy reflective dress, over the canyon of your breasts -- no bra to be seen, until finally settling on your sultry gaze. He could feel his face become harder, his lips parted in awe.

“You look strapping, Cap,” you smiled.

Price gulped and tried to put on the best smile to hide his nerves. Nerves? He would’ve scoffed at the idea, but it would be a lie that he wasn’t seduced by the pure image of you. The way the dress hugged every curve, the way your skin glistened in the light, the subtle makeup on your eyelids that made your eyes pop even more than John thought possible. A goddess stood in front of him, and he hardly felt worthy.

“You look…stunning, love,” Price said.

You felt your stomach twist in a knot as you quickly averted your gaze. Love, a term of endearment, but from a friend. A superior. Your boss. Of course your Captain’s attractiveness was not lost on you, spending nights hot and out of breath as your sheets clung to your sweat body, one hand clamped over your mouth and the other slid between your legs. The image of your Captain’s bruising grip holding tightly on your hips while he-

“Should we head out then?” Price snapped you out of your thoughts as he stood to his feet.

You nodded in an attempt to be stoic and focused on the mission, despite the pure filth going on in her head, and between your legs. Price gestured for you to go first through the door, where he then realized the dress exposed the entirety of your back. He noted how your shoulder blades peaked from your skin, how the line of your back ran all the way down to the plump of your ass. Price nearly had to slap himself to get himself to stop looking, a near impossible feat. Get it together, idiot, he thought.

The ride to the club was quiet, both you and Price keeping your attention to anything and everything passing by as Gaz drove. Your leg crossed one over the other, you leaned your chin on your palm, your expression showing boredom. Gaz looked into the rearview toward your relaxed figure.

“You clean up pretty nice,” he said jokingly.

You smirked, playfully kicking his seat, “eyes on the road, casanova.”

Gaz chuckled before throwing his hands up in defeat, “just stating the obvious. Oh, you don’t look too bad yourself, Captain.”

Price rolled his eyes, looking at his watch again, “anyway, you know your positions. Gaz, keep an eye to see if any of our targets come in the vicinity. Kit and I will make our way in and locate the weapon-”

“And make our grand escape into the sunset. Mission accomplished,” you looked to him with a comforting smile, “don’t worry Cap, this will be a cake walk.”

Price sighed almost in relief as he stared into eyes. You often had the tendency to be optimistic, sometimes to a fault, but it helped with the nerves. Something Price had a feeling you knew well.

Finally the car came to a slow around the corner of the club, eventually coming to a stop underneath a street lamp.

“Alright, let’s get this over with,” Gaz said, twisting to look back at you two, “good luck in there, try not to die.”

“And prolong my amazing funeral? Wouldn’t dream of it,” you clapped Gaz on the shoulder before stepping out, Price following you out.

Gaz didn’t wait, immediately pulling off to dump the car in an unmarked alleyway before making his way to his rooftop position. The chill of the night air sent gooseflesh over your arms as you stood next to Price. You blinked in shock as he held out his arm to you, looking up at him. John gave you a small smile.

“Better make it look believable, right?” He said.

You smiled before snaking your arm in between his, maybe a little too eagerly.

“Who knew you were such a gentleman,” you smiled.

“Of course, you think I’m some sorry sod who doesn’t know how to treat a fine woman like you?” He said, “fine” slipping out before he could do anything about it.

This slip wasn’t lost on you, bringing a blush to your cheeks.

“You’re right, that's more of Gaz’s deal isn’t it,” you smirked.

“I can hear you, you know that right?” Gaz sounded unimpressed over the earpiece.

“Just checking if the ear piece was working,” you said coyly. 

“Right,” Gaz said.

The two of you turned the corner, making your way to the growing line outside the club door. The building itself wasn’t anything to write home about, but the growing line waiting outside the door was enough to prove otherwise. By looking at the serious demeanor of the bouncer, who was obviously armed, you knew your were going to play this up a bit more. A sultry smile grew on your glossed lips, pulling gently on Price’s arm to bring him to your level. You pressed yourself closer to his side, molding into him. To anyone else, you were a young couple completely infatuated with each other, whispering sweet nothings into his ear.

“He’s armed,” you whispered, your lips brushing against his ear.

Price went rigid feeling your sudden warmth, one of your arms wrapped his arm, the other on his chest. He quickly had to refocus, realizing the weight in your words as he looked over the bouncer at the door.

“Got it,” his voice rumbled.

It wasn't long before the two of you reached the door and the bouncer held up his hand.

“トラを食べちゃう車ってなぁに？” the large man said deeply.

Without skipping a beat, you answered, “トラック.”

The man nodded and stepped aside, letting the two of you pass by, his stoic gaze never leaving Price until they passed through the door. They walked down a short hallway that vibrated with the music until they reached the main floor. The place was packed wall to wall, on the dance floor and the terrace above where the bar was located. Price’s eyes squinted at the violent flashing lights as he looked over the room. You still had a grip on his arm. He leaned down your ear.

“How’d you know how to get in?” Price said.

You shrugged, “it’s an old riddle, my grandma taught to us as a kid.”

Price nodded, “alright, let’s split up. Keep an eye out for anything interesting, stay frosty.”

“Copy that,” with that you released his arm, much to his disappointment.

You turned and looked over your shoulder with a grin, “and loosen up, old man! You’ll blow our cover before we ever get the chance!”

Price nearly choked on his breath, “not so loud!”

You waved dismissively over your shoulder, “no one can hear us, it’s too loud!”

You continued your way down to the dance floor, your heartbeat picking up as you sunk into the waves of dancing bodies lost in the music. Yes, you were on a mission, but that didn’t mean you couldn’t have a bit of fun, right? Letting yourself be taken by the beats shaking the ground underneath your heels, you began to sway your hips. No one could wipe the smile away from your lips if they tried. You couldn’t remember the last time you actually went dancing, it had been way too long, forgetting how releasing it could be. The months of rough missions and being shot at had even your light-hearted jokes coming on a bit thick. So yes, you needed this. You need a release.

You ran your hands over your curves, swaying foot to foot, your hips in circles. In the same moment, you could feel eyes on you, and you knew damn well who it was. Price found you so easily in that crowd. He leaned over the railing, a glass of whiskey in his hand as he looked down at you from the terrace. His eyes never left your form, noting every way your body rolled, watching as your growing sweat began to glisten across your skin. God, you were perfect, and you knew it which made you all the more dangerous to him. A forbidden fruit.

Now, now you are going to put on a show. It was just too easy and too tempting not to. Maybe it would’ve landed you in a world of hurt later, but for now, you were going to wring every drop out of this moment. You flipped hair, your hands moving to hold your neck as you swing your hips in a circle, rolling your body in waves. You look up at Price, that smug grin never leaving.

“You little minx,” Price mumbled, taking a deep swig of his whiskey.

You had to have known what you were doing to him, this little game you were playing was slowly unraveling his resolve with each move. Not even a second later, you feel hands smooth over your waist and the warmth of someone behind you. You immediately tear your eyes away from Price and look at the man behind you.

“Haven’t seen you around here before, stranger,” the man said into your ear.

You didn’t slip, laying on the bimbo act on thick, “I’m from out of town, heard this place was a must see. Can’t see why though, am I missing something?”

The man chuckled, twirling you around before holding you tight to his chest shown brazenly through his unbuttoned shirt.

“You made it just in time for the grand finale,” the man said, his hand sliding down to your ass before squeezing.

It took everything in you to not slice his hand off right then and there, hiding your maliciousness behind a close-lipped smile.

“Oh, is that so?” You say.

The music began to reach its peak, the crowd becoming rowdier by the second. It felt like the dance floor had become even more packed, people closing you in completely. You looked over the man’s shoulder and up to Price, your gaze saying it all. Something was about to go down.

“Everyone’s storming the floor -- Kit time to go,” Price said to the ear piece to no response, “Kit, you read?”

But you couldn’t hear him over the loudness of the music shaking your bones. The air felt thinner and the heat was nearly unbearable when your dancing partner suddenly pulled you even closer to him to whisper in your ear.

“Here it comes, don’t waste a single drop,” he snickered.

Your eyes narrowed in confusion before hearing a large pop. Your head shot up to the blinding light above, seeing confetti raining down. But it wasn’t just confetti, there was a fine dust that glittered in the light and completely dominated what little air there was. The man took in a deep whiff, letting out a groan before sticking out his tongue. Before you could turn away, the cloud was upon you, blinding you while the room erupted into cheers. You shoved the man away from you, not that he seemed to mind, his attention drawn to the showering cloud of powder above.

Price instantly lept into action, abandoning his drink at a nearby table and shoving past the troves of people to get to you. You coughed and stumbled through the bodies, bumping into everyone as you passed, desperately rubbing the powder from your eyes to the best of your ability.

“John, s-shit, J-John!” You shouted in panic, hands over your eyes.

Soon enough you felt his warm hands take you by your arms.

“I’m here, you’re okay, you’re okay,” he said.

He guided away from the floor and you followed blindly. You could feel the two of you pushing through, John not even bothering with manners until you could hear the opening of a door. You stumbled through and John hurriedly locked it behind you. You swayed, letting out a groan as you felt a throbbing headache coming on. You outstretched your arms, your hands laid flat against the walls casing you in.

“Fuck, I can’t see,” you whimpered, keeping your eyes squinted.

Without as much as a word, John turned you around and forced you to sit on what you assumed was the toilet.

“Here, lean back,” Price said, his voice laced with worry.

You did as he said, leaning back far enough that your back was supported by the sink basin attached to the tank. You could feel John’s hulking frame lean over you, adding his own heat to your unbearable temperature, turning on the faucet. Gently, he took your locks and laid underneath the cool water. You couldn’t quite place it, but you felt like your skin was crawling. Was it always like that? Your blood must have been boiling in your veins, centralizing lower, causing you to clench your thighs together. This feeling, it couldn’t be…

Your head began to turn into mush, you hadn’t even realized your tight grip on John’s shirt.

“Hold on, Kit, stay with me,” John’s voice sounded too good right, too good.

You flinched as he gently poured water over your closed eyes, the liquid feeling as if it was evaporating off your skin instantly. The world sounded underwater, like this small room was all that was left in the world. Leaving only you and John. You couldn’t hear Gaz calling over the earpiece, it having fallen out of your ear in your scuffle through the crowd, but John was talking to him.

That powder, it tasted sweet like sugar and coated everything. Everyone seemed to have been expecting it, everyone except you two. Shit, it all made sense.

“F-fuck, John, the weapon,” you gritted out, “that’s what it was. It’s some kind of, s-shit, I don’t know - an aphrodisiac, maybe? Fuck it’s so hot.”

John’s eyes widened in shock and realization. You groaned, cracking your eyes open to look up at him. If you didn’t think he was a giant (compared to you) you definitely thought so now seeing him in such a cramped space. He looked over you with that piercing blue gaze, the one that sent fear into the heart of many, but now only set you ablaze. Your gaze spilled over him, over his well-kept beard and mustache -- how desperately you wanted to ride them.

You clenched your legs tighter, trying but obviously failing to hang on to any ounce of sanity. He was your Captain. The man that made sure the job got done and that everyone came back. That’s all it was supposed to be. But you knew damn well it hadn’t just been that for a long time. You found yourself staring at the man for longer, sometimes he’d catch you and return a smile. That damned smile gifted by the mischievous gods themselves, sent to destroy you. And gods, it was working. Soon everything became engraved in your mind, the way his hips winded when he walked, the way he’d chew into his cigars when he was stressed. How he would bark orders to the time, watching them fall in line so easily, wishing, begging that he’d one day turn those orders on you and you alone. How you’d pray for them in your bed, your fingers desperately rubbing circles on your overstimulated clit in hopes of even coming close to what impossible pleasure he’d give you.

All such feelings were just that, feelings, and thus had no room in the real world. But now, such feelings roared like a furnace in your belly and you feared they’d overflow.

“I’ve really fucked us, didn’t I, Captain?” You said, your voice weak.

John couldn’t tear his eyes away from you, leaning closer to look into your blown eyes. He gently tilted your head to get a better look at you.

“Kit, report,” he said gently.

You didn’t respond, your words tangled in bliss. John frowned, running a thumb over your plump lips.

“Come on, stay with me,” he whispered.

Your brow furrowed and you gulped, your mouth a desert.

“I-It’s…hot, so hot, I feel like I’m hot spring on top of fucking volcano,” your words slurred, “my head feels light, I can’t think straight…and my heart, it’s beating so fast. It hurts, John…”

John frowned, finding the odds even worse than he thought. In only a few moments, you wouldn’t be able to move let alone respond if he didn’t do something. He felt his heart in his throat. If you died on his watch, right in front of him, he wouldn’t be able to live with himself. He knew then, he felt more for you than a superior should ever feel. He now understood the anxiety he felt when he’d send on missions without him, and the immeasurable relief you brought when you came back to him. How he’d crack a smile at your bad jokes, so bad that they could even make Ghost chuckle. Remembering your divine image when you’d come out of a training session, covered in sweat to the point that it soaked through that little tank you called a shirt, eyeing how it clings to you, showing him everything but not enough at the same time.

John felt his mouth run dry as he pressed the earpiece.

“Gaz, keep an eye on the perimeter,” John said gruffly, “going dark.”

He didn’t even wait for Gaz to answer before dropping the earpiece and stomping it underneath his boot. John looked over your limp body, hunger clawing at him as he took in every inch of you.

“Kit, I need you to listen to me,” he said, both hands cradling your face.

You tried your best to give him your attention but you were slipping by the second.

“I need you to tell me you want this,” he said, still trying to find restraint. “Or else tell me to stop this and I will.”

You didn’t think your heart could beat any faster than it did but you couldn’t put it past John. All sense of restraint snapped like a twig. Your hands wrapped around his neck, pulling him close until your lips clashed together. Teeth clashed as you held him tight. You expected him to push you away, you expected to have read the situation wrong, but you didn’t. He didn’t.

John nearly lost it when you moaned needily into the kiss. He tried his best not to crush you under his weight, one hand supporting himself against the wall behind you, the other tangling in your damp hair, pulling you impossibly closer. You kept your hands busy too, sliding down to his shirt and belt, yanking at the fabric. By the time the two of you separated, John was out of breath as he looked down at you with an unquenchable thirst.

“I want you to know,” his words rumbled in his chest, “if I could, I’d take you out to dinner, get you flowers, I wouldn’t, I mean-”

You giggled, “I know, but that doesn’t mean we can’t do all that later.”

John smiled, his hands squeezing under your thighs before hauling you up, allowing you to wrap your legs around his waist. The wall felt like ice against your back, but he felt like fire against you. His warm hands slither up your thighs and under dress, fingers curling around the band of your thong.

John groaned, “what you do to me…”

His fingers moved the fabric clothing your heat, swiping up the slit and gathering your juices on his fingertips. 

“God, how are you this wet already?” He mumbled against your lips.

You could only answer  with a strangled mewl as he slid two fingers inside with ease. Working them, you struggled to contain your moans as his thumb circled your clit relentlessly.  Your vision was blurring by the second as you clawed at his shirt, moaning into his neck. You squealed, feeling John add another finger and when he curled them, spots of your vision completely disappeared.

“S-shit, John, right there, g-god!” You gasped.

John pumped his fingers faster, his mouth covering yours as an attempt to quiet you despite craving to hear you more. He watched as you fell apart in front of him, and he hungered for more. He kept his pace until your eyes flitted to the back of your head, your legs shaking around him. You came violently around his fingers, clawing at John’s muscular arms as he continued to pump them into your sensitive cunt. He only slowed when your fingers wrapped around his wrist, causing him to look up into you fucked out gaze.

Your eyes said it all. Your lips were parted and glossy with his and your own saliva.

“John, please…” you whispered airlessly.

He didn’t hold back, letting your legs fall as you tried your best to lean into the wall so as not to fall. He pulled hastily at his leather belt, peeling back the layers until he cock was finally free. You felt your mouth water seeing it slap up against his abdomen, its head red and angry. John stroked it a few times, squeezing the tip tightly. He took your left thigh, propping your heel on the toilet, spreading you and slipping between your legs. Now you could truly feel all of him. You slithered your fingers underneath John’s shirt, lifting it up to his firm pecs that you more than once caught yourself staring at during workout. Your hands felt so hot against him, he wanted more, needed more. His steely blue eyes connected with yours, looking for any hesitance, anything that would call him off. 

 “Tell me to stop,” his accent sounded rough, showing how much he was actually holding back. “Tell me-”

 You silenced him with a kiss, softer and gentler than the last. This was true, a promise. You broke from him and smiled warmly.

 “You are all I want,” you whispered.

 John groaned, swiping his tip along your slit, pulling a moan from you before knocking the air out of you as he began to sink into you. He was big, the was obvious. The tip alone made you stretch uncomfortably but you craved it, longed for it. He was being careful, your cautious captain. You could see it in his face, his brow scrunched up as he sunk further and further until he reached the hilt. Your mouth hung open in pleasure, your brow knitted.

 He waited for a moment before gently thrusting, kissing your velvety walls. You let out mewls, your fingers clawing against his arms.

 “J-John,” you whimpered.

 “Yea love?” he said, his words beginning to slur from the pleasure.

 “It’s okay,” you smiled, “let go.”

 John’s eyes widened a centimeter, fully blown. By a flip of a switch, he wrapped your wrists with a single hand and pinned them above you. His lips found sanctuary in your shoulder and neck, leaving smoldering kisses. His hips snapped against you and breath-taking pace, hitting deep with each thrust. You felt your mind fully melt, stars blinding your vision.

 “F-fuck, how are you this tight, love?” He groaned against your ear.

 All you could now was whimper pathetically in response, your hands clawing at his back as he ravished you over and over. Both your slick stuck to his abdomen and your thighs, his balls slapping against you every time he’d bury his cock into your cunt. You couldn’t control your moans, and John wouldn’t have wanted you to. He as lost in them as you were, groaning into your ear.

 The way he pounded into you, kissing your cervix, it was no wonder how you were so quickly returned to the edge. Your felt your stomach tighten as slapped your hands against his chest as another orgasm came over you in a unforgiving wave. You were dripping now, juices beginning to pool at your feet.

 For a moment you thought John had relented, letting out a pitiful whine as he pulled out of your puffy cunt. This thought was dashed when he dragged you over to the sink, your hands holding yourself up against the porcelain. John ruffled your dress over your ass, slapping a hand against it before tightly squeezing.

 “Look at you, you’re a sight,” John mumbled, “it was pure torture watching you out there. Almost like this was what you’ve always wanted. Needed a good fuck, didn’t you Kit?”

 You let out a moan, feeling John slide a hand up your back to tangle into your locks before pulling. You looked up lazily into the reflection, finding him staring back at you.

 “Answer me, soldier,” he said, a smug smirk on his lips.

 In any other circumstance you would want to whip that prideful smirk off his face, but right now all you wanted to do was worship him.

 “Yes, sir.”

 You let out a moan as he slid back into you so easily, falling back into his brutal pace. Your head rocked back as you bit you lip, your eyes rolling to the back your head. He kissed your sweet spot repeatedly, bruising it but you loved it. God you loved it.

 “Good fucking girl,” he cursed, his fingers digging into the plush of your hips, “doing so well for me.”

 You yelped as he picked up the pace, something you didn’t think was possible. John watched with pride as your ass slapped against his thighs with ever thrust, echoing against the concrete walls along with the pornstar moans he was dragging out of you so easily. He could feel your walls tightening around him as he rammed your womb, inching him closer to his climax.

 “Where do you want it, love?” He said, his breath labored.

 You didn’t even think, your mouth did all the work.

 “F-fuck, fuck cum, cum inside me- fuck, John!” You cried.

 “Fuuck, love, you’re dangerous,” John groaned, his grip on your waist tightening, his head dipped to your back.

 His breaths left his lungs in huffs each thrust, matching your moans until you both unraveled like paper dolls. You let out a long moan, feeling his seed paint your womb and warm you from the inside out.

 The two of you refused to move, both gasping for air. It wasn’t until his soft dick was forced out by your tight cunt did John look up into the mirror.

 “You alright, love?” He said.

 All you could do was nod, still trying to catch your breath. John stood straight, hands gently rubbing your back as he looked down at the mess he made of you. His seed dripped out lazily from you and before he could even think, he took his index, catching some before stuffing it back in. You let out a small whimper, looking over your shoulder to him.

 “Can’t waste a drop, love,” he said with a tired smirk.

 You shakily pushed yourself off the sink, your dress falling back over thighs. Legs feeling like jello, you stumbled to sit down on the toilet. You hung your head as you tried your best to catch your breath. Much to your dismay, the high began to subside and the regret began to set in.

 As if sensing your anxiety, John gently cradled your face, guiding you to look up at him. He placed a gentle kiss on your swollen lips before pulling away with a smile.

 “I meant what I said,” he said. “I want to take you out. Somewhere you nice. Treat you like you deserve, that is, if you’ll have me?”

 You looked up at him in disbelief before grinning, “I’ll go anywhere you are, Captain.”

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*leaps into escape vehicle*: I REGRET NOTHING!!

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