#sometimes I love a piece of art just for that alone

[zeroducks-2]

I am conflicted. Your SlaDick art makes me go hnngg, but I've never found Slade to be a particularly interesting character. A good 80% of what I see about him on here is just discourse, which usually points towards a character being super intriguing, but most of what I've read in the comics he just seems like 'Generic Assassin Character With Bonus Divorced Dad Elements' What am I missing out on???

(Also, can I have a link to your header image? I need to reblog that asap)

Hey Tiger! How are you doing? Unfortunately I can't give you a tumblr link to my header image because tumblr's puritan ass considers it too much and took the post down LOL (it is literally just a guy in lingerie so idk what they're on about). You can have the Bluesky link instead.

Okay so about Slade. I honestly don't get the whole, uhh... "it's funny cause he's divorced" thing going on in the Slade fanbase. Like yeah he used to be a military man, he got married and had kids, but because he secretly became a mercenary and made lots of enemies, one of his sons very nearly died and his wife (understandably!) divorced him for it. I don't get what's funny about it, I don't get why people go "LOLOL he's a divorced guy!" like where's the punchline exactly? Lots of people get divorced is that a funny thing...?

Well but anyway. He used to be a very complex, very gray character in the 80s, when he was written by Wolfman and Perez. Initially he was not exactly a bad guy despite acting in the role of an antagonist, he was going against the Titans to honor the memory of his dead eldest son. Of course being a mercenary with little qualms about killing people put him in the gray area by default, but he was nice with the kids when the situation allowed it, very loving towards his middle child (Joseph, who also was a Titan), and he and Dick held mutual respect for each other (to the point that Dick convinced Bruce that Slade was actually a good man, and a honorable man who would never break his word. Which tbf was true).

The run Deathstroke The Terminator which ran from 1991 to 1996 is interesting and complex, selling itself like a Macho Man Thing! With Guns! And Explosions!, while it's actually tackling delicate themes such as parental grief, loss, CPTSD, the horrors of war and such. Slade's incrollable friendship and loyalty towards William "Billy" Randolph Wintergreen (former comrade in arms) is a very important and fairly touching aspect of it, and Slade's struggle to just Be A Good Person despite everything (and failing) is imo very compelling.

Over the years (and at this point irremediably), Slade has veered from being a gray, complex and multidimensional character into being only a villain. He stopped being caring towards his family (or he's directly manipulative and abusive especially towards Rose, youngest child born from adultery), he stopped being "fatherly" towards the Titans, and lost complexity overall. What he gained were impeccable Daddy Dom vibes, also thanks to the cartoon (Teen Titans 2003), where a Slade Wilson inspired character (called only "Slade" and voiced by Ron Perlman) is the embodiment of evil and has a fixation on young Robin Dick Grayson.

There are more "modern" moments in which Slade is still an interesting character. Like when he tried to steal the speed force from Wally (and eventually got it from Ace) to go back in time and save his eldest son's life (and failed miserably, but managed to change the fact that Grant, his boy, had died alone, because he held him through his last moments). The Slade you see being shipped with Dick is sort of an amalgam of all that... sometimes he's the sharp, wicked monster of the tt03 cartoon, sometimes he's a more gentle elder man who genuinely grew fond of Dick, sometimes he's a piece of garbage who's toying with a kid, and most of the times he's a ruthless mercenary who will stop for nothing and no one to fulfill his contracts... but he has a soft spot for Dick.

This last bit of characterization comes from the most iconic Nightwing run (1996 by Devin Grayson), and it's where Dick and Slade have some of their most interesting interactions since the New Teen Titans run of the 80s. There Slade acts like a lazy but dangerous big cat, and Dick has his carefully studied methods of dealing with him, which work because Slade is very fond of him basically.

There are more things to say but this post is long enough already! I feel Slade is one of the characters who have been done dirty by DC executives, because they have a hard time dealing with gray characters overall. He's versatile when it comes to fanworks because his characterization is all over the place (except a couple core concepts he's a different character in each media he appears in, basically), and Sladick is ridiculously hot and works imo very well in lots of different circumstances.

[foodsies4me]

Saw a parent drawing with their two kids while walking the dog and they all looked so happy drawing together outside despite it being chilly. And somehow I feel that a family creating art together is art in and of itself.

[problemswithbooks]

BNHA 423

So, I can't say I feel much of anything reading this weeks leaks.

I'm not shocked that Shigaraki died, nor would I be surprised if his death is taken back next chapter and he gets brought back to life in some way.

The thing is despite people saying Shigaraki dying messes with the themes of the story the themes have always been more then a little shaky. IDK if it's just a difference in culture, but Hori has a way of setting something up as being a big deal/theme and then doing something that completely contradicts it.

It's really no surprise he might have killed off most of the villains including Shigaraki despite setting the story up in a way where saving villains seemed to be a theme. He did the same thing with self-sacrifice being portrayed as bad, but later showing it as good.

I will say I don't necessarily agree with how some people are framing Shigaraki's death as throwing abuse victims under the bus. I do get the frustration because Hori did focus a lot of how Shigaraki was used by AfO and in a lot of stories that would be used to absolve him of guilt for all the destruction he caused. But Hori never had Shigaraki change his mind. His last words are him continuing to wish he could have destroyed more and wanting Izuku to relay to Spinner he never stopped fighting for destruction.

I think if this had been a more thought out and focused story you really could make it a great tragedy. It feels unfair that he couldn't be saved, that despite Izuku's effort, at the end of the day Shigaraki wasn't able to break away from the destruction he was manipulated and groomed into believing.

In that way I can understand the anger of some fans, because the story is essentially a tragedy framed as a simply triumphant narrative. It always felt like it wanted to have some deep meaning, and always seemed on the verge of it, but never stuck the landing. The one thing I've always been left wondering is: what is Hori trying to say with this story?, and IDK if the ending, given what's on the page right now will really give me an answer.

If anything I think perhaps Hori was trying to say to much at once. I'm sure a lot of it gets lost in translation and cultural differences, still part of me thinks he bit off more then he could reasonably flesh out. Thinking back many writing choices feel like he had an idea or passing thought and added it because it was cool or thought he'd have time to do more with it latter but due to shitty writing conditions couldn't implement properly.

[shithowdy]

this is your periodic reminder that for all the artifacts and errors and "tells" one could possibly list, the only reliable way to actually determine if an image is ai generated is to investigate the source. it is becoming increasingly common for "fake classical paintings" to circulate around curative aesthetic blogs, and everyone should be using this as an opportunity to not only exercise their investigative skills but also appreciate art more in general. you're all checking out the artists you reblog, right? 🫣

so what are some signs to look for? let's use this very good example.

what a lovely late-impressionist piece blended with evocative leyendecker-esque themes! why haven't you ever heard of this artist before? surely tumblr would be all over an artist like this. who is justin brown?

your two options from here are to do a search for the name, or a reverse image search. i prefer reverse image searching, particularly when it comes to a common name like "justin brown". so what does that net?

Immediately, without looking at any text, something is wrong: it barely exists. an actual historical piece would turn up numerous results from websites individually discussing the piece, but no such discussions are taking place. Looking at the text, though, does show the source-- and at least in this case, the creator was honest about their medium.

But let's also look at the "exact matches", in case a source doesn't make itself apparent in the initial sidebar results like this.

This section will often tell you post dates of images, and here it can be seen that the very first iteration of the image was posted 15 days ago. It did not exist online prior to that.

Seeing how long an unsourced image has been floating around is a skill applicable to more than just generative images! See a cool image of an artifact or other intriguing item with a vivid caption? Reverse search it! If all the results are paired with that caption and only go back a few months, you might just have viral facebook spam.

Sometimes generative creators are dishonest about their medium and do not tag it like in the example, so that's when establishing "jpeg provenance" becomes important. While it can be a little trickier to determine if someone is using generative images and not admitting to it if they aren't trying to pass it off as a classic, something to consider is the age of their account and the frequency with which they post. Here are some account red flags:

-Did they only start posting art after 2022, or if they did before, did their style/skill level WILDLY change? Not gradual improvement-- I'm talking amateur graphite portraits straight into complex digital renders. Everyone starts somewhere, newness is not a red flag alone; it's newness combined with existing in a vacuum away from any community.

-Do they post fully-finished paintings several times a week? -Do many of these paintings seem iterative of a similar theme or subject matter ("three well-dressed young men face each other under shade and dappled sunlight")?

-Does their style change in inconsistent ways? An artist that can swap between painting like Drew Struzan and Hokusai should be pretty well known, right? Why is no one hyping this guy?!

-Do they have social media besides the source instagram? If so, what are they posting about? Are there any WIPs? Doodles? Interactions with other artists? Gallery dates? 3am self-doubt posts? Or is it all self-promo? Crypto? Seemingly nothing art-related at all for someone pushing out 3 weekly paintings?

Basically, if it's important to you to omit this stuff when you curate, please don't just smash reblog if the source doesn't seem to be the OP themselves. Seeking out sources was important even before this became an issue, now it is more than ever.

peace n love

[monstersflashlight]

Hello! I love your work and I admit it's really fun to read! Besides the spicy parts I love it has a story! Speaking of a story, I really liked your reblog about the plant(venus?) and the girl with short hair and I was wondering if you could tell us their story? Spiciness included ❤️

Not sure if you wanna hear my ideas about it but I'll just mention that smell is a powerful weapon and once the bud closes, the plant won't let you go easily without showing you the ultimate gratitude for your planter skills in the arboretum (I hope that's the right word for tree crown center area. Or plant center if trees are off the options)

Hi there! Thank you so much, means a lot! <3 For everyone wondering, she means this art piece.

Plant-trapped

Plant-monster x witch fem!reader || sex pollen, smell kink (?), tentacles (vines)

You had what witches called green aura, but humans simply referred to green thumb. You had your way with plants and that’s why you were the one in charge of taking care of the coven’s botanic garden. You loved your job there, you spent most of the time alone, surrounded by plants, and you could just enjoy the quiet and the nice smell of all the flowers. It was amazing.

But sometimes you forgot not all plants in the garden were harmless. Not all of them were non-sentient… Some of them had a bit of a thing for witches like yourself…

And you fell right into its trap.

You thought you knew everything you needed to know about the plant and its properties, but at that moment, you couldn’t remember any of it. You couldn’t remember how to get out, what did it take to get it to release you. It was like your brain turned into a white space and you couldn’t remember your own name.

You leaned in to smell its intoxicating smell and that’s how it got you. And the smell only became more and more mind blowing the longer you breathed it in. Your brain was fuzzy and your body became hotter and hotter, your insides trembling as your pussy started to tingle. You groaned as the big monstrous petals closed around your body like an embrace. And when the vines reached your body, you didn’t even care.

Your clothes disappeared with the secretions of the monster-plant, destroying the fibers and leaving an oily feel on your skin that only amplified the overstimulation of your senses. You couldn’t smell anything that wasn’t the monster. You couldn’t touch anything that wasn’t part of its body and its vines were caressing and touching every part of you accessible. You were groaning and moaning, your body pliant under its ministrations as your juices ran down your legs.

It was intoxicating and exciting, and when the first vine probed your hole, you cried out in pleasure when the most intense wave of desire ran through your body. You were drenched in your own juices, but the monster-plant added some of its salve to lubricate you further, making you slippery as the vine entered your dripping cunt. You moaned, and you felt like something broke inside your brain, like a dam was destroyed.

“Such a good witch,” a voice spoke right inside your brain.

Deep down you knew the plant talking to you was unlikely, but at that moment you couldn’t figure out if it was real or just part of the illusion created by the sex pollen. But you didn’t care. You only cared about the vines groping your body and the ones inside of you, touching and reaching parts you didn’t know could even feel that good.

It fucked in and out of you, the vines latching to your G-spot like suckers as little tentacle-like vines rubbed your thighs and clit. It was like the best enchanted sex toy you ever tried, and it was driving you insane with pleasure. You cried and moaned, you screamed and groaned… It was ecstasy in its purest form, and you couldn’t form coherent thoughts outside more.

Your orgasm hit you like a tidal wave, and your eyes were blinded for half a second, the pleasure so bright and high you couldn’t see. Couldn’t hear. Couldn’t feel anything apart from the brain melting pleasure running down your body as the plant took all you had and some more.

“You did good, little witch. Your offering was accepted,” the voice inside your head said as the monster-plant released your body to the ground, completely sated.

[aces-and-angels]

artwork by raghad qanou follow: @rhq2744 verified ✔: no. 221 on el-shab-hussein/nabulsi's sheet

dear moots/lovely lurkers- please read 🖤

raghad has finally reached the very first milestone in her fundraiser! that's right gang, thanks to the continuous support of friends/strangers alike, raghad's family has raised a whopping ✨£5,095✨as promised, here is another beautiful original by miss raghad herself 🖤

for those who haven't gotten a chance to meet her yet, please allow raghad to introduce herself in her own words:

Hello everyone, I am Raghad Qanou, a second-year human medicine student at Al-Azhar University in Gaza, or rather, I was like that, before I lost everything, literally everything... Before the 7th of October, me and my family [8 members] were living in our cute house in the Shujaiya neighborhood in Gaza, after huge suffering to repair it and return to living in it after it was destroyed in the 2014 war on Gaza. My family and I were forced to leave our home and forcibly move under fire 7 times so far! All this to escape death and hold on to the last shred of hope for a decent life! excerpt from raghad's gfm campaign page (read full story here)

i first met raghad sometime in june after she messaged me here on tumblr. one of the first things she shared with me (besides her name lol) was this piece:

title: waiting for a ceasefire "only hope and art keep us alive here in gaza ...." -raghad qanou

since then, we've been able to chat a handful of times-- i told her how much i loved her artwork and she excitedly shared even more of her work with me

raghad is a talented artist- a loving sister- a diligent student- a wonderful daughter- and someone who deserves a chance to live a life worth living. her whole family does

they continue to suffer through horrific living conditions and rely on y'all to help carry their burden. to reveal yourself so vulnerably to the world is far from easy. so often, we are told to grit our teeth and push through whatever ails us in silence. but this is a type of pain that cannot and should not be felt alone. and it will take everyone to band together so we can begin to heal

raghad's campaign still has a long way to go. to help things move along, i am proposing another art reveal ✨

if we can get raghad to £15K- i will unveil another beautiful piece from her collection of artwork!

as of posting, raghad's family has raised £5,095 / £55,000.

for those able, please consider donating by clicking the link below + share this post so others may get the chance to help out too 🖤

tags for reach below cut (note: sorry gang, ik we're not really moots. if you're here- it's cause i pulled people from a post that promoted a gfm in the past. please let me know if you do not wish to be tagged in future posts. no hard feelings, truly 🖤)

@juneybug @kodigobacktosleep @apocalyptic-dancehall @imnotthepersonyouseek @toonirl 

@kingofthebookcase @kazehita @yonch @pinkdreamscape1 

@king-dail @caseys-soup-corner @shoogachi @killy @missusmousse 

@j0ckhead @whoopsiedaisy20 @squidie-tittie @dreamingamongthestars @trexpel 

@mischief16 @foulharbor @draginfyre16 @tangerinesteve @3amsnow 

@fruitpuddle @wallsong @selkiesmile @suzakus-canon-wife @turquoisewavesstitch

@loutrem @thatlethalsoul @visemes @orange-coloredsky @dweamdoodles

@just-a-girl-0001 @samrobotize @aunty-matter @gamelpar 

@roachie-paradise @queruloustea @ehjane @firebird963 @butchdykekondraki 

@dinofur @cthulhu-with-a-fez @purplenickel @ysngie @paper-mario-wiki

[spencahreadreid]

Anyone else but you

fluffy, night in with spencer, he's absolutely SMITTEN with you. no y/n, no gender specifics! (i imagine spencer in the gif attached but any is fine)

Face to face in bed, his hand on your cheek, caressing the smooth skin, eyes wandering over your face as if you were a piece of Roman art. The short glances, smiles, were nothing compared to the way his clear admiration in this form made you feel.

Spencer could feel the warmth of your cheek in his hand, a pink blush covering both of them when his thumb brushes just below your bottom lip. Stifling a laugh, he takes his hand away, slotting it under his own head, between him and the pillow.

"You look beautiful tonight, sweetie.." the tone is doting and warm, as always. He couldn't take his brown doe eyes away from you. From any of you.

If his eyes left your face they would slowly trace down your exposed neck, collarbone, the shirt you wore for bed. Or they would travel up, your messy hair, the way it splayed out against the pillow so elegantly, as if you were painted by Da Vinci. Maybe they'd go both ways, up and then down.

You were silent, but the smile that mirrored his, suddenly plastered on your face after his small but meaningful compliment showed him your appreciation enough. Sometimes you two wouldn't talk, instead, bodies tangled, taking each other in.

Comforted by the sheets, covering both of you, the small gap between you making it dip. Spencer had chosen them when you first moved in together, he knew you loved the stars, and how much you hated white sheets. Stains would show too easily, of course he agreed. So black sheets, it had to be, adorned with small illustrated sparkles, stars and one image of the moon in the top right corner.

They fit you perfectly, that's what he thought at least, as if all of his thoughts were never about you. They were.

He would never admit it, but you knew, maybe you had never known love before him. Maybe you were delusional, reading into the delicate man's looks far too much, constantly reminding yourself: 'hes the profiler here, not me!'. But it was so clear, so obvious in everything he did. Anything he brought home; flowers, jewelry, clothes, usually just a small pastry from down the road.

Every. Single. Last. Gift. Every interaction, already planned out in his head, he knows what you like, what you want, what makes you happy. He feels as though he's made for it, put on this earth just to make you feel good, feel safe.

You wouldn't have it any other way, neither would Spencer. Even when he came home to music he'd never listen to if he was alone, allowing you to take 'selfies' with him although he hates modern technology.

Then of course, letting you hold his hand, even when it's safer to kiss. But you do both anyway, so why does that matter?

[frantic-fiction]

Shattered Glass 18+

(Gif: leopardmuffinxo)

Astarion x f!reader

Summary: Astarion finally makes do on a promise.

This is part 2 of Secluded Evening. (Could be read as a stand alone)

Warnings: Smut, MDNI, oral fem receiving, PnV sex, unprotected sex, biting (of course) Astarion being a lovesick fool

Word count: 2.6k

Astarion threw another log on the fire; a flurry of embers took flight, dancing in the cold night air. The rest of the camp had already settled in their tents. You were nestled between his knees about five feet away from the flames. A throw blanket cascaded down your shoulders—a notebook on your lap. 

He studies the rapid strokes of your hand from over your shoulder. The rough lines of charcoal were blooming into an identical copy of Laz'eal. Astarion pulled a strand of hair away from your eyes and began to weave your locks into a simple braid. He doesn't have a hair tie, and knowing you, you've lost yours. So, he twists the pieces, and once done let's go, kissing the crown of your head. 

You barely acknowledge him, and when you suddenly shove the pencil over your shoulder, Astarion chuckles, taking it from you. He watches you begin smudging the charcoal with the pad of your finger. You're adorable when your art consumes you. Every time, it captivates Astarion.

This was how most of your nights were spent. Not always precisely like this; sometimes Astarion brought a book, and sometimes your hand got too sore to draw, so Astarion read to you as you curled on his lap. But as long as it was spent in each other's company neither of you cared much for the activity.

Astarion adored these nights the most, primarily because he could feast his eyes on your beauty without you shying away or throwing a stupid joke at him to break the tension. You were perfect in every way, and when he opened his heart briefly and confessed the broken pieces of himself and the motivations that led him to you. All you did was look at him with unspoken love and hugged him. 

Your relationship became something more after that. Sex was not what drew the two of you together. For the first time in 200 years, Astarion had someone he trusted with his every sense of the word. Someone who wanted more than his body and showed their love for him without words. Someone he wanted to spend every moment of his life with despite the fear that thought causes him. 

Astarion thinks he loves you but can't find the words when his mouth opens. He's always struggled with expressing his true feelings, but he wants to try with you. He wants to bear his heart to you and show you all that you mean to him. And with all the trust you and Astarion have established, one thing has become a very big problem. 

You have begun to treat Astarion like glass, as if one sexual touch will break him. And frankly, it's pissing him off. Astarion finally has complete control over his body and a partner who he trusts. A partner that can bring him to his knees with a simple giggle and to put it bluntly, gods you were fucking sexy. 

He's frustrated, horny, and has no idea how to ask for anything he wants. And for fucks sake, if he wakes from a meditation to have you grinding against his erection again, he just might explode.

In his frustrated musing, he didn't notice that you had placed your sketch pad away. He only noticed when you cupped his jaw and moved his eyes to meet yours. "What are you thinking about, handsome?"

It takes a moment for Astarion to collect himself as he stares at your soft smile. "I was thinking it's about time we get you, my sweet, to bed," he pecks your lips before grabbing your wrist and entwining your fingers. You nod and press a gentle kiss to his knuckles.

Astarion holds the flap open, and you duck inside. Kicking your pants off and into the corner, you unceremoniously plop down into the pile of cushions. You began sharing a tent in the shadow curse lands. Astarion found out pretty early on that nightmares of Cazador were less likely when you were in his arms. And thankfully, you slept better, too. 

You prop yourself on your elbows and silently watch Astarion move about the small space, removing his outer clothing. He seemed to be stalling, almost like he was silently debating with himself. Astarion is in his underwear when he seems to come to a conclusion. He takes a deep breath and moves towards you. Kneeling by your feet, you watch as Astarion hesitates, his hand resting softly on your shin. Hesitation is soon replaced with a devilish smirk that stretches across his lips.

"Whatcha thinking about pretty boy?" 

Astarion doesn't say anything, just slowly begins to crawl up your body before capturing you in a breathtaking kiss. His knee is between your legs; your hands are around his neck, pulling him flush against your body. You sigh softly into his mouth, moving your hands to caress his cheekbone.

He tongues the seam of your lips, and you are quick to gasp, giving him access to lick deeper. Astarion's hands are caressing up and down your curves, cupping your breast and tugging the metal bars of your nipple rings. His mouth moves to your throat, sucking hard at your jugular. 

"W-wait!" You choke out, causing the elf above you to freeze. He's quick to remove himself from you, putting some distance between your bodies. 

"Shit, did…did I do something wrong?" Astarion's voice cracks; you've never heard him so unsure of himself. You pant hard but are quick to sit up and fall into Astarion's lap, his arms instinctually wrapping around your waist.

"No, gods no," you sigh, cupping his jaw and pressing your forehead against his. The tension in Astarion's shoulders drops, and he squeezes you a bit harder.

"Then what is it, my sweet?"

That has you pausing to figure out the best way to say this. "What was your plan?" Shit, that didn't sound good

"My plan! Are you serious?" He's already pulling away, shutting off completely when you pull him back tightly.

"No! Th-that's fuck, that's not what I meant, Star," at least he's not trying to run, but he's as stiff as ever. "Astarion, I will be as blunt as possible because I care about you. Were you trying to have sex with me because you felt obligated?"

This isn't what Astarion expected you to say because he can't mask the look of surprise. He opens his mouth to speak before clamping it shut. He does this twice more, but you don't rush him, you push stray curls behind his ear and wait. 

"No." His voice is small. He clears his throat before speaking again, stronger this time. "No, I want this, and I would appreciate you stop treating me like fucking glass."

“What?”

You're flipped over, and suddenly, on your back, Astarion's body pressed closely against yours. He ruts against you. His cock was hard, feeling painfully constricted in his underwear. "I appreciate your patience with me, darling, but I need to clarify one thing to you right now."

Astarion licks a long stripe up your collarbone, ending just under your ear. You moan softly, trying desperately to roll your hips up into Astarion. "I have never wanted someone more than I wanted you. So, if it's okay with you, my sweet, I'm going to take the rest of our clothes off, and you're going to finally let me feast upon the sweetness between your legs."

You whine and buck, trying to get anything from Astarion's unmoving body. "Tsk, no, no, my sweet. Use your words." He purred, nipping your ear.

"Please! Yes! Oh gods, Astarion," 

Once the words leave your lips, you're tearing at each other's clothes in desperation. After you are both fully undressed, Astarion shoves you back onto the cushions. You expect him to pounce but he hovers staring down at your naked body.

Astarion's deft fingers grab your foot, and he presses a soft kiss to your inner ankle. A pang of heat flared through your lower abdomen. He kisses up to the top of your calf before giving a playful bite. You release a soft yelp, and Astarions lavishes the bite with his tongue. He slowly moves up to your inner thigh, leaving various bruises in his wake.

 You're gasping as he ghosted over the spot you wanted him most. His breath fans over your dripping cunt, and you swear he's about to give you what you want. Then he kisses you. Just one small peck on the public area just above your clit, before he retreats. You cry, and one of your hands card into Astarion's white locks. 

“No! Please!”

 He begins the same slow ascent up your other leg, paying just as much attention. "Now, as much as I love those beautiful noises you make for me. Remember that our camp members are trying to sleep; you can be a good girl for me, right?" He gazes up between your parted legs, and you nod and swear if he asked at this moment, you would have given him anything.

"I thought so," Astarion purred before licking up the entire length of your pussy. You moan out and swiftly clap your hand over your mouth. Then suddenly Astarion is a man starved.

His hand grips the underside of your thighs hard and pulls you down the bed as close as physically possible. He sucks, and licks, piercing his tongue sloppily at your dripping cunt, and you're a mess of pleasure. Your grind against Astarion's face, his nose rubbing beautifully against your clit. If it weren't for Astarion's hands keeping your thighs parted, you probably would be crushing his head in your desperation.

A low groan rumbles from Astarion's chest, and he focuses his attention, sucking tightly on the bundle of nerves. He slips his first and middle finger into your cunt and curls up, causing you to gasp for air. 

"S-star…oh gods!" You cried, and he was ruthless with his assault. Astarion pumped his fingers quickly, the sloppy sounds of his mouth mixed with your muffled moan. Your stomach was coiling with pleasure, and you were embarrassed with how fast Astarion was picking you apart. "I'm close." you whimper, rolling your hips against his face. 

Astarion, after a moment, releases your clit. Still pumping you with his fingers, he looks up at you, chin glistening with your arousal, a smug grin lazily plaster on his lips. "Come for me, love, be a good girl."

With the last few slips of his fingers, the coil snaps, and you're falling apart. Eyes unfocused, muscled tight, the silent gasp of ecstasy stuck in your throat. Astarion watches in amazement and arousal as you come apart so thoroughly with just his mouth and fingers. His cock is aching pre, now dribbling down the shaft. 

Once your orgasm slows, you feel the immense need for more. And with Astarion still nestled between your legs, it has you moving without thought. You push Astarion back and plant yourself on his lap. You mash your mouth against him, chasing the taste of yourself on his tongue. 

Astarion groans and cups the back of your head, deepening the kiss. Your palms roam down his chest, smoothing down his abs until you come to his neglected cock. It's swollen and red, and when you grip it softly, Astarions hisses into your mouth, bucking into your palm. 

Smearing the pre-come around, you slowly work your hand up and down Astarion's dick in long, languid strokes. His eyes glaze over, and he moans, head dropping to your shoulder. Astarion's cold hands fondled your breast, and he leaned down to suck one of your nipples into his mouth. He pulls the metal piercing softly with his teeth. 

You whine and tug on a fist full of Astarion's hair, rubbing your thumb over the head of his cock. "Fuck, darling." Astarion moans, moving to give your other breast equal attention. Your positive marks will be littering your body for days following. And the thought alone causes you to clench your thighs. 

You pump your hand faster, and Astarion meets everyone with thrusts of his hips. He claims your lips again in a sloppy dance of wet tongues. Then suddenly Astarion stills your hand.

"If you keep this up, I'm not going to last much longer." Astarion's pants, nudging your nose with his.

"Isn't that kinda the point, handsome?"

"Not if I want to come apart feeling you clenching around me," Astarion's voice is breathless, and you moan at the thought. He kisses your cheek, then your jaw. Trailing his way to your neck. "Would you like that, my sweet," 

Whatever power you had over Astarion had just turned to dust. You bite your lip and nod quickly, letting Astarion push you on to your back. You part your hips, and Astarion slots right in. 

"Words, my love. You do know how much I love your voice." Such a fucking tease.

Linking your arms around his neck, you pull him down, hitching one of your legs over Astarion's hips. "Please…I need you to fuck me." 

"Shit…" Astarion groans. Taking himself in hand, he smears his dick with your arousal before filling you agonizing inch by inch. 

The two of you let out a collective cry of pleasure, and you feel complete. Astarion pulls out and slams his hips back, ripping the oxygen from your lungs, and sets a steady pace. You clutch at his shoulders, digging your nails into exposed skin. The slick sounds of Astarions pumping in and out of you were depraved and did nothing but fill your lower abdomen with molten lava. Astarion wholly consumed your senses. 

The coolness of his lips left lingering kisses on your arched neck. The smell of bergamot and rosemary flooded your nose with each shaky inhale. The saltiness of any skin you could taste. It was too much and not enough all at once. 

The scrape of Astarion's fangs graze his favorite feeding spot, and you grab the back of his head. "Yes! P-please…" and soon, the icy pierce of his teeth is followed by the cool tingle of pleasure that flows through your body. 

Astarion grunts as soon as the blood touches his tongue. He ruts faster against you, grinding you into the blankets. He has to clamp a hand over your mouth to keep your voice from waking the whole camp. 

But what can you do? Nothing. Not when his other hand begins to roll your clit in tight circles matching his thrusts. Your hands trail down his back, legs hooking tightly around his torso. The angle of your hips changes, and Astarion is pounding into the spot that has you seeing stars. You're close, and you try to say so, but Astarion hand is still tight around your mouth. 

After a last mouthful of blood, Astarions peppers kisses over the bite. "I know, my sweet, I'm…fuck I'm close to." 

His fingers are rubbing your clit faster, and his hips aren't letting up the brutal pace. Your legs are quaking, and you feel like you might faint. You clench tightly around him, and then you fall apart. Suddenly, Astarion's hand is gone, and his tongue is in your mouth, capturing every whimper of pleasure you give. And with a few more swallow sloppy thrusts, Astarion falls over the edge with you, filling you with his spent.

Astarion continue to languidly kiss you, both hands cupping your face like you are the most precious creature on the plane. He barely grinds his hips, feeling the last of your orgasms fade until you are both too sensitive. 

And it's like someone cut the puppet strings. Astarion falls limply onto you, blanketing your body with his. You comb softly through his hair, gently pulling out any knots. Astarion kisses your shoulder before rolling off of you. 

It is silent for a while as you stare into each other's eyes. Astarions is the first to speak. "I love you," His words were barely above the whisper, and if you weren't staring intently at the man, you might have missed it. 

You're speechless. Were you dreaming?

"I still believe you deserve more than the broken man before you. But you've chosen me, and I have felt true happiness for the first time since waking up in my grave. And well-"

You don't give him a moment to finish before you're in his lap and tackling him into an embrace. "I love you, Astarion." 

The dopey grin on his face has you breaking into your own. You press your forehead to his, and he hugs you tightly. You don't know what tomorrow brings. But being here, seeing Astarion's smile, and knowing he loves you just as much as you love him. It feels like you can do anything. 

Okay, friends, this was just so fun to write. Let me know what ya thought. I swear all the love and support I've received from my last few posts have been so amazing. I'm so excited to show you more!!!

If you liked this, maybe you'll like one of these?

Happy Birthday (fluffy)

Reoccurring Nightmares (hurt/comfort)

Tag list?: @heartfully10

[fruitjoos]

★ NSFW, 18+ MDNI | ART DONALDSON, PATRICK ZWEIG

Be a good girlfriend.

part one, part two

—

you and patrick were spending the weekend in art's dorm for a much anticipated movie night.

patrick had excitedly brought back a supernatural film he'd been raving about, and the plan was simple: you'd handle the popcorn, and art was supposed to get the drinks. of course, art had grumbled about this arrangement. "why do i have to do anything when it’s my room and my tv we’re using?" he'd complained, rolling his eyes.

as art flicked the light switch off, signaling the start of the movie, you resolved not to nag him about neglecting the drink duty. however, the popcorn quickly turned into a dry, choking hazard. barely able to swallow, you coughed and spluttered, forcing art to pause the movie before the production company logo even appeared.

“babe,” you whined, your voice rasping, “i’m so thirsty! the popcorn is killing me. please, i'm begging you.” you clutched at art’s shoulder with desperation.

patrick groaned dramatically from the other side of art. “we’re never gonna watch the fucking movie,” he muttered.

“shut up,” you snapped, turning your pleading eyes back to art.

art sighed theatrically and rose from the bed. “fine, i’ll go get some drinks from the vending machine,” he conceded, grabbing some bills from his wallet and tossing it onto his desk.

“i love you!” you yelled as he closed the door, mumbling a yeah, yeah in response.

“okay, we’re alone,” patrick said, turning to face you with wide eyes and raised brows, “let’s make out.” he smirked.

“no, you freak. he's right outside the door,” you tossed a few pieces of popcorn at him. undeterred, he crawled toward you on his hands and knees, his eyes smoldering with desire. “like that’s ever stopped us,” he murmured, kissing your lips. “you’ve jerked me off while we were sleeping in the same bed,” he mumbled against your mouth, the heat of his breath mingling with yours. “so stop pretending to be the good girlfriend you’re not.” his words stung, a sharp contrast to the softness of his touch.

“what?” you retorted, stopping his chest before he could lean in again, momentarily stunned by his brutal honesty. the weight of his accusation hanging heavily in the air between you.

he quickly retracted to his original spot, your heart pounding as the door creaked open. glancing over at you, he saw the confusion in your eyes as art spoke. what had he said wrong? his mind raced, replaying the words he thought were witty, the ones he was sure would make you smile and call him stupid, maybe even laugh. but now, doubt gnawed at him, a sinking feeling settling in his chest.

"okay, blue gatorade," he said, forcing a smile as he tossed the bottle to patrick, who caught it effortlessly. "and water for my sweet girl," he added, his voice softer. he leaned in, pressing a gentle kiss to your lips before placing the cold bottle in your lap.

"thank you," you mumbled, barely audible, your eyes avoiding his as you leaned back against his pillow.

as the movie flickered across the screen, you shifted, trying to find the most comfortable position on his full-size bed. finally, you settled on laying flat on your stomach, your legs lightly kicking against the headboard. your head rested in art’s lap, as he sat in the space between you and patrick leaned against the wall. the blanket sprawled across them.

you were a good girlfriend, you kept reminding yourself, the thought looping in your mind like a mantra. he’s just a bad friend. okay, maybe you had jerked him off that one time, but it was just once. a mistake. girls make mistakes sometimes. who was patrick to tell you what kind of person you were? the irritation flared within you; patrick, who could barely tell his left from his right, had no right to judge you.

the movie’s dialogue faded into the background as your thoughts consumed you. you could feel the warmth of art’s body, his fingers absentmindedly tracing patterns on your shoulder.

you are a good girlfriend.

you slipped your hand underneath the blanket covering art's lower half, your fingers tracing a delicate path up his thigh. the warmth of his skin sent a shiver through you, a thrill that made your heart race. art cleared his throat, the sound almost imperceptible over the movie's dialogue, but you felt the tension in his body.

he grabbed a pillow, placing it strategically between himself and patrick, creating a makeshift barrier to shield your actions from view. the intimacy of the moment was intensified by the secrecy, a silent agreement hanging in the air between you and art. his leg muscles tensed under your touch, and you could sense his effort to remain composed.

he tried to make sliding down his gym shorts appear casual, making it seem like he was smoothing out the perfectly unwrinkled blanket. you pulled your hand back out, and brought it up to your lips, spitting out a gob of your sticky saliva right into your palm, cuffing your hand to be sure you don’t spill any of it.

your hand found its way back to his shaft. he jumped at your cold touch as you pumped his dick at a steady pace. the thick meat warming up between your fingers. you gazed up at him, his eyes glued to the screen. “you like the movie?” you whisper. “mhmm,” he gulped. you squeezed him in your palm, “fu–yeah, i love the movie.”

patrick's attention was abruptly drawn to the weird exchange unfolding beside him. his gaze drifting towards the subtle, yet unmistakable, rustling beneath the blanket. as he cautiously lifted his eyes, they collided with yours. you were already staring at him, a mischievous smirk plucked at the corners of your mouth.

he silently scoffed, turning back to the movie. small whimpers left art’s throat as you tugged on his now rock solid cock. up and down. shlick, shlick, shlick. now that patrick knew what was going on, you could be as wild as you wanted to be, making it known that he wasn’t apart of the fun.

you ducked your head under the comforter, slapping his thick, hot cock on the heart of your tongue. spit drooled from your mouth as you swallowed him through your supple lips. art’s mouth hung open with his eyes closed, not caring how crazy he looked to anybody else watching. his brows furrowed from the pleasure of your warm, velvety tongue slurping him up. you licked and slobbed, making a popping noise as you came up for air.

you pushed the blanket from both you and art. exposing his glistening boner, covered in spit. he scolded you, shouting your name, embarrassed as if neither of the people in the room haven’t already seen it.

“what the fuck?” patrick said, shaking his head. irritation rather than confusion etched across his face. he wasn’t confused at all. “shut up,” you straddled art’s waist, kissing and rocking your clothed pussy against his bare cock, “i need to fuck you so bad,” you breathed out, tilting his head back to kiss his lips.

“patrick’s in here,” he clenched his teeth, pressing down your hips to stop your movement. “he can join if he wants,” you smirked, leaning back on the bed to pull off your shorts and underwear, giving patrick a clear shot of your sopping cunt. “or he can sit there and watch. like the good friend i know he’s not.” you said, mocking his words from earlier, climbing back on top of art.

you and art both waited on his response, breathing heavily.

[digitalgirlguide]

WHY AREN'T YOU DATING YOURSELF TOO?

As I sat sipping my morning coffee, I couldn't help but wonder: why do we often wait for someone else to take us on a romantic date when the perfect partner has been there all along—ourselves?

We get so caught up in chasing love from others we often forget that sometimes that you can give yourself the love you need too.

There’s something soooo empowering about falling in love with your own presence. I mean why wouldn't I want to hangout with myself? I'm amazing, fun and smell good too.

When you take yourself out, you're not just spending time alone— you're setting the standard for yourself everytime you get dressed up and go to that fancy restaurant, everytime you grab your tote bag and favourite runners and go exploring in your city, or even monthly spa visits to pamper yourself. make your solo dates pop so you don't settle for less when it comes to romantic partners and platonic friendships

Physical Solo Date Ideas

Sunset Beach Walk: Slip into your cutest sundress and wander along the beach as the sun sets. You could even pack yourself some of your fave sparkling drinks and some fruits! and everybody always feels better after they spend some time by the water.

Picnic in the Park: Pack a basket with your favorite snacks, a cozy blanket, and a good book. Find a shady spot under a tree 🍓📖

Yoga in the Garden: Roll out your mat in your backyard or a nearby garden. Breathe in the fresh air and stretch your body 🧘‍♀️🌸

Gallery Hopping: Spend an afternoon exploring local art galleries. Take your time admiring each piece and journal about it after 🖼️

Stargazing Night: On a clear night, lay out a blanket in your backyard or a quiet park and look up at the stars ✨

Food Solo Date Ideas

Café Hopping: Spend a day exploring cafés in your city and act like the main character in a sitcom or romcom. My fave thing about cafe's is people watching and making up storylines about people. ☕️

Gourmet Dinner for One: Dress up and take yourself to that fancy restaurant you’ve been eyeing. Put on that dress you've been "saving for a special occasion" and order yourself the whole bottle! 🍷

Baking Adventure: Try out a new baking recipe and create some new sweet treats, whatever you have leftover you can share with your girls 🥮🍪🍰

Farmers’ Market Feast: Visit a local farmers’ market and pick out fresh, seasonal ingredients. Then, head home and cook a delicious, wholesome meal just for you.

Ice Cream Parlor Indulgence: Treat yourself to a visit to an ice cream parlor.

Remember, darling, you're the star of your own show. Every moment spent with yourself is a chance to fall head over heels for the fabulous person you are. So, slip into that cute outfit, step out with all the confidence of a city girl in stilettos, and let the world bask in your glow.

After all, the greatest romance you'll ever have is the one you create within yourself.

[bear-remn]

—shu headcanon's!

hi! I've been thinking a lot lately about the Sakamaki brothers and I came up with some headcanons that maybe you guys can enjoy too, the first one in this series is shu so enjoy! also a little art piece i make during maing this post.

tw: there are some nsfw headcanons!!! if you dont like that content dont read it!

his looks and selfcare

i do think that shuu is very, good looking, shu has that kind of elegant beauty, with his fine face and a straight nose, clearly his eyes are what attract the most attention when you see him for the first time, also shu has a very penetrating and fixed gaze, in addition to the fact that his blue color makes him have a captivating look and sometimes makes people nervous without realizing it, just because of his natural gaze.

even so, shu does not realize how attractive he is, at least not entirely, mostly bc he doesnt take care of his face, like he dont put any cream or special soap on his skin, he is totally the guy that barely wash his face and has a perfect skin.

but i do think that when he wants to, he definetly put sunscreen bc thats what he thinks is makeup for men.

and maybe this is a little... dirty? but i truly belive shu does'nt shower too often, maybe three times a week? or sometimes two, and he does not smell, like too bad, bc he dont sweat for some reason, but does sometimes stink with that smell, when somebody is for too long in a bed... that kind of smell.

and the times he showers he truly takes that shower like if it was his last, ofc is a bubble bath and he puts some candles and music while he just rest in hot water. is shu's private moment with himself. and he loves vanilla and chocolate candles.

and about shaving, he has a happy trail, but cant grow a hole beard, for some reason it just grow under his chin and it bothers him so he shave it right away. and about his body hair it is very thin and not so visible.

talking about skin, something shu needs, is to feel soft things to the touch, like his sheets, he makes his bed all the time and loves the smell of vanila or lavanda the bed has when its recently done, and its the same with his clothes, he needs cotton clothes, if shu feel something that is minimally rough or that makes his skin itchy, he never wears it again or throw it away.

shu does not brush his hair too often, mostly bc its not hard to control and he likes how he looks with messy hair.

i like to think that shu has a wide body, big shoulders and a thick waist, he has a prominent v line, his arms are a little thick too, and his hands are big, but his fingers are more thin and long, as he use to play piano. and he takes care of his nails, doesnt put nail polish but do cuts them and keep them clean.

random stuff

sometimes shu doesnt realize his shirt is inside out, and he realize just when somebody else point it out. but shu dont care.

shu is actually a goosip, so he puts one of his earphones bad just so he can hear what people are talking even if it had nothing to do with him.

and a little secret of him, when shu cant sleep and is alone, he looks at cute/funny (mostly shitpost) videos, memes and photos of animals, shu is totally an animal lover.

on his vacations shu loves to watch a reallity shows, he loves drama of famous people, but ofc shu doesnt talk about this with anyone. and definetly watch them when he eats. not too often tho, it has to be a really good show.

shu has a record collection in his room, next to a wall full of vinyls of his favorite music, he doesn't use them much but enjoys collecting them.

and bc of his childhood he is actually really smart but bc he is miserable and lazy he just dont show it nor in his life or in the academy. and also as a little revenge to his father (who punish him by sending shu to alaska lol).

shu actually dont like human food, he find it boring, but do enjoy eating meat, almost raw, but not too much, bc after that his stomach hurt a little. he does like coffe or hot chocolate sometimes and better when it has milk.

and my favorite little thing about shu, i think shu dont play in consoles, not play station, not xbox, not nintendo, nothing like that. so he only play games in his phone, but not anygame. shu either playes puzzles games or play subway surfers, or both, who knows. and he loves the music of that game, it always stick into his mind when he hears it.

NSFW

so, shus dick... is great, maybe too dirty of me to say but u truly belive that shu has a pretty dick, like maybe more thick than normal, with two prominent veins and heavy balls. and its a little biger than average, probably like 19 cm. i had to say it.

also, i belive shu is a switch, ofc loves to be dominant but also enjoys being dominated, with a limit.

shu loves to tease people in any chance he gets, like, when someone (specially a girl) find out that he likes to hear woman moans as music, he tease them to make them nervous like "what? would you prefer me to just hear you? want me to make you moan? hehe". or when a girl is wearing something too revealing too close to him, like he sees someone underwear or a little peak of her chest shu be such an ass "wanting to show me something? how lewd of a woman you are huh" all of that with his sly smirk.

he flirts in a very... one of a kind, like he teases but also like to make physical contact, at firts he just do it in a way to make the other person nervous but with the time he craves the physical contact, he loves feeling his skin touch another skin, what makes him sleep naked.

shu is more perverted than laito canonically, but i think that shu is more romantic about it, like put passion in it, you can feel the conection with him when having sex. specially bc he loves making eye contact and touch everything he can. he craves to melt into your skin and its really intense. he holds you with possessiveness, hard and intense. almost needy, but shu isnt like quick and fast or desesperate. he is more the kind of sloow and deep, nice and steady. kind of guy.

and bc of his intense desire, he loves foreplay, and best of it, he knows how to do it right, i just know he can read people to know what someone like to make them weak. he also loves kissing, tongue. theeth and lips, he have to kiss at every moment, and if you moan into his mouth he just gets worked up. he would definetly make you grind on his leg while kissing. clearly he does the leg thing, he know things.

shu is a big fan of 69, like he loves to get sofocated while you suck him, and he does it right, loves to play with your clit like crazy, but he isnt rough, but if you ask for him to be more rough he get into it, until youre fucking trembling. and he expect you to cum in his face, afterwards he is happy just to be there.

and his favorite position in bed is either cowgirl or spoonign, firts bc he like when you take control, and seconds, he gets to hold you and be close to you and not making too much effort.

in the case of cowgirl, he loves pushing up to go deeper, and all of that while watching you face, damn he loves it. also likes to hold you waist, and watch you support your body with your hands on his legs, that way he can see better your boobs as you move. when he is close he bites his bottom lip so hard just bc he wants to see you how you cum as well, literally make you look into his eyes while doing it. and if he can, shu will sit up just to kiss you and and look into your eyes up close. he loves to intimidate you with his gaze.

"cmon... keep looking at me... dont take your pretty eyes off mine..."

and if you refuse to lok at him, shu would hold you face to make your eyes meet his.

and in the case of spooning, he grabs you close, like if shu wants to get into your skin, would hold onto your tits or your belly with one hand while he other is in your neck, making you look back at him while he trust into you deep and nice. would kiss your shoulder, your neck, your back, any little part of your skin that is close to him, he would kiss it gently, and if shu speed up a little, you would hear his hot breaths in your ear, occacionally biting it.

"fuck... you're mine, you know that?... only mine.. say it..."

"you're my woman... hear it?... say it... i want to hear you..."

the aftercare is another story to tell, basically he would be either too lazy to get up or just by luck he has something to clean up in his drawyer. he is the kind of men, that would prefer to stay dirty for a while just to hold you a little longer, definetly tease you for another round or just kiss you softly as he carees you hair or skin.

this man craves you with passion, and its touch starved.

── more of my content here!

[onlyangel4]

unexpected. SMAU. LH44. part one.

lewis hamilton x tattoo artist! reader

in which reader is the last person someone you expect to find in the paddock and that is what makes him drawn to you. or lando's tattoo artist friend visits the paddock to tattoo zak brown after the miami gp win and the internet goes mad.

warnings- cursing

part 2

main faceclaim is ryan ashley malarkey

y/ntattoos posted two stories

story one written: lando keeps on trying to get me to wear papaya.

story two written: because apparently my current outfit is not "race ready"

f1wags

liked by user 4, f1fan7, landofan3 and 52,318 others

f1wags: a new face was spotted in the mclaren hospitality suite. admin snapped this picture and then watched as the woman took a picture. admin asked the other woman in the picture who the girl was she explained it was y/n y/ln and then rushed off. who is this girl?

landofan3: admin i would have expected you to know that. this is@.y/ntattoos she is best friends with lando's cousin jenna and has known lando since he was born. her being in the paddock makes me think that zak is getting that tattoo.

user4: whoever she is i hope she isn't a wag, the face tattoos are a bit much

user7: she is just a tattoo artist not a wag don't worry

f1fan7: omg y/n is in the paddock, zak brown better run

user10: who is she?

f1fan7: one of the best tattoo artists in the uk, celebrities fly to london just to get tattooed by her. she is the artist behind harry styles' fern tattoos and she did rhianna's hand tattoos.

user23: so idk really know who she is but did you guys see the video of the other drivers when she walked past with lando. i stg lewis almost broke is neck and daniel's jaw dropped.

mclaren posted two stories tagging y/ntattoos

story one written: the artist

story two written: the art

y/ntattoos

liked by landonorris, danielricciardo, lewishamilton and 923,459 others

y/ntattoos: so i have noticed that since i was pictured in the paddock and posted on mclaren socials i have gained a lot of followers so i thought i should introduce myself to all the new people on my page.

hi! i'm y/n, i have been tattooing since i was eighteen (seventeen years). i specialize in ornate jewelry pieces but i do love all aspects of tattooing. i am a dog mum to a five year old pomeranian called lilith.

i know the question on all of your minds is "why the fuck was she in the paddock", the simple answer is that i have known lando since the day he was born as i am best friends with his cousin @.jennanorris and when he won in miami he called me and asked me to do the honors of tattooing one zak brown (who didn't cry like i thought he would)

anyways it is lovely to make your acquaintance and remember to congratulate lando on his podium.

view all 52,392 comments

user12: she really said, if you are going to talk shit about me online then at least get to know me first

user32: shit she is talented

lewishamilton: roscoe would love to meet lilith sometime

y/ntattoos: i'm sure that could be arranged

user16: go on lewis get yourself a hot tattooed girlfriend. we believe in you.

user29: idk still don't like the idea of her being around the drivers. she has bad influence written all over her.

user16:she is 35 you teenagers need to leave this grown woman alone

mclaren: we expect to see you back in the paddock when oscar takes his first win

y/ntattoos: yes boss

landonorris: i was dissapointed, wanted to see zak cry like a baby

y/ntattoos: well you won't even let me tattoo you. so maybe you are the baby

user4: i love her already

[hwallazia]

OCEAN, BED, TATTOO – 정우영

synopsis . in which wooyoung tattoos your skin with ink... and with his lips.

pairing . jung wooyoung & fem! reader

genre . smut (mdni!), fluff & comfort, established relationship, tattoo artist! wooyoung

taglist . @bro-atz @purplenimsicle @vampzity @iykyunho | comment your username if you wanna be added to my permanent taglist! ♡

word count . 2,1k

DISCLAIMER! dom! wooyoung (he’s a teasing menace here) sub! (and very whiny) reader, fingering, clit play, light scratches, unprotected sex (boooo👎), tattoos involved, overstimulation, dirty talk, praise, petnames (my love, sweetheart, youngie & more). lmk if i missed anything.

NIC’S NOTES hey, i’m back at the game again after a long month full of exams !! i’m soo glad, i missed writing so much ♡ well, enjoy <3

tattoos aren’t as bad as people say. they look cool on your skin and they are aesthetically gorgeous. when you were about nine years old, your older sister, a few months after she came of age, got a tattoo of a beautiful, fine mandala on her right leg, and from that moment on, you were committed to tattooing your skin—probably the forearm, you often thought.

and you finally did it when you turned 20. with your sister’s company, you arrived at the tattoo parlor in search of a certain “wooyoung”, who would be the artist who would draw the permanent (and hopefully pretty) lines on your skin.

“excuse me. um, we’re looking for wooyoung? he’s supposed to be the tattoo artist for my sister.” your sister said to the man behind an old oak desk that seemed to be some kind of reception, her body leaning against the wood, elbows resting on it. 

“guess you’re looking for me then” a voice not participating in the conversation intervened. since you heard it coming from behind you, you turned around. just to meet the most good-looking, jaw-dropping, mouth-watering man you’ve ever seen, his figure leaning against the door’s frame that seemed to lead to his studio with his arms crossed in front of his chest, his notoriously pump chest.

“you must be yn.” he continued as he approached you and your sister’s position. “hi. i’m wooyoung.” he extended his right arm, placing his left hand under it. oh, he looks like a prince, a tattooed prince, but hush. “well, do you want to come in alone or do you want your sister to accompany you?”

fortunately, your sister could read you like a book. so when she saw your momentary inability to formulate coherent sentences —she’d later study the reasons why you suddenly were flabbergasted— and before you could say whatever thought your short-circuited mind processed, she answered for you. “go on. i’ll wait here. sometimes you gotta face situations without your dear older sister’s help, right?” she said as she ruffled your hair playfully, slightly messing up your hairstyle. an annoyed huff escaped from your lips with a small pout in reply. 

a cute, quiet snort came from wooyoung, your embarrassed heart racing a little at the sound of it. “come on, then” he tilted his head sharply indicating you to enter his studio. you walked side by side towards its door and before you both could pass the threshold, he stepped aside the door’s frame and extended his arm, his fingertips pointing to the inside of the room.

“ladies first” he uttered in a honey-dripping tone that made your heart skip a beat. and the warm smile he gave you after you locked gazes? double kill. heat flushed through your cheeks, now turning into a more reddened hue. when wooyoung saw your adorable, bashful face turning into a cute tomato, his eyes closed even more. two beautiful, heartwarming crescent moons decorating his eyes. you bowed your head slightly at the embarrassment and entered the studio. abstract art pieces hanging on the wall; a melting-type clock on the side of one of them; a few framed diplomas embellishing a narrow decorative table located below a large window, which gave the most beautiful view of the busy downtown of seoul and, at the same time, allowed the entry of divine natural light, changing the ambience completely. he also had some plants here and there.

“so, what did you have in mind for today?” he spoke as he reached for his chair, grabbing it by its back and pulling it to him so he could sit on it. his arms finding support on the top of the chair as his upper body vaguely leaned against it. “is it your first time?” he asked and turned around to prepare the tattoo machine by grabbing the black ink he’d possibly need.

“yes, um. it is, actually” you stuttered, trying to sound as clear and understandable as possible. “i thought about tattooing the word ‘resilience’ on my forearm. is that okay?” your eyes wondered between wooyoung’s fingers and the veins that came from them, a bottle of isopropyl alcohol in his right hand. 

“of course it’s okay. you’re the boss in here.” he chuckled a little at your stammering tone. ‘well of course it is, you’re the one getting the tattoo and paying for it anyway, so duh’ a bothering voice in your head replied to you, a soft huff from you was heard. “so, do you have an idea of how you want it to look?” he continued while he stretched the latex glove on his left hand and then replicating the action on his right.

“yeah, let me get my ph-” you started to say as you touched your upper body, and then your hips, and then your pockets, and then your pants... you had totally forgotten your phone, in which you kept the idea you saw on pinterest the other day of the tattoo you wanted to get. a murmured curse coming off your lips when you realized. “i, uh. i don’t have my phone with me right now. i... forgot it at home.”

“oh. well don’t worry! it happens to me more times than i’d like.” he laughed not too exaggeratedly. he wasn’t trying to piss you off by giggling at your disgraceful situation; he was comforting you in the best way he could because, after all, you were strangers. “hm. so do you wanna reschedule or-”

you didn’t think twice before responding by shaking your hands in front of you. “no! i trust you with it! it’s just a word anyway.” the words easily slipped out of your tongue, not a hint of doubt in the spark that glimmered in your orbs.

“but it’s your first tattoo-” wooyoung replied with notorious insecureness in his tone and you, unbothered, interrupted him.

“come on!” you spoke as you lifted your dark purple oversized sweater’s sleeve, revealing your soft skin to his fox-like eyes which doubted for a second before resting his slim, latex-covered fingers on your exposed skin. you were able to see a very close-up of the touch of his fingers against your skin, your hair standing on end as a result. his fingers sent shivers and sparks down your whole anatomy, a weird feeling forming in your belly and chest. you felt how his touch dragging flowers through the meadow of your complexion, creating the most beautiful garden.

who would say that that boy who marked your skin for life with his art would now be the one with whom you wake up every day, the one to whom you trust your most intimate secrets, the one whom you love and kiss every day. the one that makes you see stars.

like now, fucking his fingers sloppily from all the right angles into your wet cunt.

“youngie, wait i- hgh- i don’t wanna cum yet.” you whine as you grip the silk, champagne-colored sheets underneath you. he has spent a generous amount of time prepping you, playing way too much with your sensitive clit. and that has brought you to the brink of abyss. you want to cum when he finally fills you with his rock-hardened cock, but wooyoung seems to have no intention of stopping. he is a hundred-percent committed in making you cum as much as you physically can.

“huh? what’s that, sweetheart? didn’t quite catch that.” he mocks at you, deepening his index and middle fingers inside you and putting his thumb to work on your bud’s stimulation. a desperate cry bubbling out your throat. “but stop crying, baby. so you can respond.” his non-working hand releases its firm grip on your hip and moves up to your cheek to stroke it in the most gently way.

your voice lets you down, your tone drowning in the blubber that erupts from your lips once your body feels the consequences of wooyoung’s incessant thumb swaying over your clit. the palms of your hands sheltering your reddened cheeks.

he chuckles at the sight of you, “covering your face when you’re dripping all over my fingers?” he withdraws his fingers from your warm interior, your walls clenching around nothing due to the nostalgia of being satisfyingly full. he then covers your hands with his and takes them away from your blissed expression and pecks your lips briefly. “shameless.” 

he gets on his knees in between your legs, his hands pushing them apart before he bends over your figure, trapping you between his strong, tattooed arms. you have tried in the past putting your legs on his shoulder; and yes, he does push further than usual, but it was an uncomfortable and painful position for you. so you opted for simpler things, nothing so difficult so that it replaces pleasure with pain. wooyoung always puts your satisfaction over his, doing everything he can to give you the most toe-curling orgasm every time. and he never fails. 

your hands instinctively find comfort on his back, your fingers mindlessly stroking his back tattoo. “i’m putting it in, love.” he murmurs against the crook of your neck as he pushes in further and further, your nails digging onto his bare back. the combination of a masculine grunt and a whimper floats in the air, which is getting heavier and heavier. 

“holy shit- ah, wooyoung. you’re so.. fucking deep.” you blubber as you feel his cockhead faintly rubbing your g-spot. his thrusts are precise and strong, driving you quickly over the edge. his sighs blowing on your face as almost invisible clouds because of the humidity generated by the situation. 

“fuck baby. you feel so soft and warm. and tight” he exhals, some strands of hair sticking to his sweaty forehead. he does some kind of push-up to come down your face and kiss your swollen, red lips frantically. your tongues fighting and his winning over yours. “wanna stay inside you forever. ah.” wooyoung pants out his words, hips still going and knocking a little more roughly against your cunt with every push.

“i know you can give me a little more, though” he pants raspily, totally out of breath. your fucked-out mind can only process something about ‘wanting more’ or something like that, you don’t know, way too gone to even say your name without stumbling with your own words. you can only understand what he says when his very familiar touch lingers strokes on your clit, so swollen and tired of overstimulation. the cute, pleasured sounds coming out of you only encouraged him to speed up his fingers and his hips as well. he practically is wanting to break you completely until you aren’t able to even recognize where you are, your name or how much is two plus two. and wooyoung finds your current state quite amusing, so he starts to imitate you, mocking your broken sobs and pathetic mewls exaggeratedly. 

“if only you could listen to you right now. but you aren’t even listening to me, are you, doll?” he teases, enjoying a bit too much the tears that pitifully stream down your face profusely. your eyebrows furrow together, your thighs shake more than usual and you start feeling lightheaded; you’re about to fall into the abyss of pleasure and wooyoung is more than happy to receive your warm, dripping juices. 

“oh fuck, youngie. ’m gonna cum. you’re gonna make me cum. please let me... fuck... please, i—” you give up on the rambling begging and let yourself just helplessly whine and mewl.

“i know, my love. go on, cum for your youngie. make me proud, angel.” he encourages you, his fingers keeping a steady pace on your bud as well as his thrusts. three or four more are more than enough to melt you under his divine touch as your throat lets out the very last shriek of the night. “ah you’re so good, so fucking tight for your youngie, aren’t you? ugh” he shakes above you as he lets out a moan that sounded more like a cry. he quickly, but carefully pulls out, your body shuddering at the sudden emptiness, releasing hot shots of cum over your belly, painting your navel’s surroundings with pearl-like spurts.

he finally lets his body surrender to the overwhelming tiredness, collapsing above you.

“wooyoung. love. get off of me, i can’t breathe.” you speak, receiving a drowned and unbothered ‘mm’ as a response. you chuckle with the little strength you have left, “at least get off of my arm?” you try to negotiate with him the dumbest thing ever. but he finally does as told and moves a little to the side, releasing your right arm from his weight, “there you go. see? it wasn’t that hard.”

“hush. i’m sleepy. and tired” he mentions separately in a grumpy tone. of course, how could you forget the grumpiness that wraps your boyfriend when he runs out of energy?

“fine, babygirl.”

“don’t call me that!”

| masterlist

[luneariaa]

ᯓ★٠ ࣪⭑ PIECE OF ART. ✧ KENJI S.

✰ — you and kenji being at the museum for plot reasons, kenji being sweet, pure fluff, might be ooc kenji, not much proof-read.

tagging : @xxladyballadxx @jinwoosungs @madeimoisellesoleil 💕

— ✩ m. list.

. dividers by @/strangergraphics 📜 !!

A LIGHT grin is present upon your features, further observing the scattered paper arts close by— passing it in an unhurried pace. Dressed ever so casually, to say the least, yet perfectly fitting to the current location you were in. A sight to behold that still manages to go unnoticed within the sea of people.

It is just the beginning of the eventide, and the museum still continues to open and welcome new visitors as always. Your sole figure remains there, blending in with the several other people with dexterity.

The romantic time of the day, some may say. The mere location itself has given it away fully.

Due to the amount of passing minutes that you've been inside, you started to feel quite chilly all over— causing yourself to mentally curse for not bringing a coat along with you, blaming yourself for your small mistake.

It doesn't take long for you to endure with a slight shiver, when a certain someone suddenly covers your form up with a rather sizeable coat; warming you up almost instantly without fail.

Admittedly, you got startled from the gesture and the sudden appearance, before deciding to turn around to face the said person.

And of course, it didn't take long for you to be able to fully register upon the familiar sight altogether— eyes instantly widening with a beaming smile.

"Ken, you actually came!" Without wasting any second of hesitation, you pulled him into an embrace— burying your face onto his chest with pure joy.

"Mmhm," Kenji hums, adding more to his words further with an equally happy expression, along with a mellow tone. "Of course I do."

He gradually encircles his arms around you, returning the embrace with equal fervor. Lowering his head ever so slightly, he silently allows you to burrow your face further against his chest for the time being— relishing within one another's mere presence.

Everything about him screams security, allowing yourself to drown into him without any worries; starting to feel more addicted as if he's some sort of a drug that made you hold onto life itself.

He's a famous person that is loved by many, and you're almost.. Nothing, like him. It's what keeps you questioning sometimes, and the way you're able to establish a rather special connection with him.

The difference between you two is like day and night itself; one that is vast and perceptible. Yet if only you knew— that Kenji never once is bothered by any of those existing statuses, not even the slightest. He appreciates you for being who you truly are.

"I figured that you'd be quite busy. I mean, I understand if you're unable to stop by earlier, y'know."

"Hey, don't worry about it." Just like that— he's able to dispel the existing anxiousness within you effortlessly so, still keeping his hold around you with just the right amount of force; not too assertive, and it just felt right.

"I'll always make time for you, my love."

His simple response made you beam in delight; noting the truth of his words alone.

No one is around the area that you both are in, does it-? It's as if nothing much mattered at this present moment, shielding yourselves with the makeshift reality that you both have unconsciously created— lost within your own little world without a care.

The stillness around the both of you, except for the occasional breathing sounds, makes the moment special somehow. You could clearly feel the heat radiating off from him and his coat alone; his warm breath brushes past your ear.

"Feeling any better now?"

"Yeah," you nodded with a grateful smile of your own. "Thank you, Ken."

Has he ever told you on how much he loves it whenever you call him Ken? It just hits different whenever you call him like that. He would lose his damn mind if he wants to.

"I appreciate you a whole lot," you added. "You don't usually go to places like this, that is."

"I just can't help myself but to come and see you.." A velvety chuckle slips past through his lips— planting a small kiss upon your forehead before gently pushing you away for a bit, just so that he could gaze at you.

"Honestly, I just— yeah, I missed you, a lot. I know I've been busy lately, but still.."

Kenji is speaking nothing short of pure honesty lacing his words. He misses the feeling of your frame against his own; letting his thumb tracing the contours of your face with such delicacy— every detail of your features none left untouched.

"What if I told you that I feel the same way too?" A cliche answer, but it works every single time.

Your gaze now darted towards the large painting ahead, which ostensively have shown a pair of lovers— holding onto one another as the life of the other gradually withers away.

He simply chuckled over your statement, immediately taking notice of the shift of your gaze; following your line of sight after.

"The painting looks a bit depressing, to say the least," he remarks, paying close attention about what the artist is trying to convey through the art.

"Yeah." You approached closer to the aforementioned painting, and the coat— his coat, still settled snuggly around your figure, trying your best to discern the details as well.

"I wonder what goes through the artists' mind while making this."

Kenji now stood beside you; the height difference very much noticeable. His eyes seemed to be observing it in every angle possible as well, placing his chin atop of your head from behind— no longer standing beside you.

"I'm curious about it too."

"Maybe it was meant to portray, you know— some tragedy?"

"Well, that definitely worked." He agreed along with your words, accompanied with a quick nod.

When he's sure that you're not looking at anywhere else but the painting alone, Kenji took the opportunity to glance down at you, secretly— or not-so-secretly, admiring the way his coat hangs around you almost loosely; yet fittingly so. You looked so beautiful to him like this, and he didn't dare to let his mind wander too far.

At this point, you didn't have to bring him along to the museum to see the arts, when you are the whole art itself.

A precious piece of art that he would love to keep with him for as long as he's breathing— if you would let him.

Every single part of you screams divine perfection to him. The way your eyes would light up whenever you see anything that interests you, or the way you would bite your lip in pure concentration unknowingly.

The way you speak, and the way you walk— God, don't get him started on the way he would always, successfully so, getting any sort of reaction out of you. The list is endless, and it felt like a personal reward, one that he's not-so-willingly share with anyone else.

No one can truly blame him for doing so, honestly. Kenji couldn't help it— he cherishes you so much that it almost hurts so good. Not out of obsession, but damn, that man loves you a little too much.

Nevertheless, nothing is truly too much for him to love you just the way you are.

Yet rightfully so, you never minded even the slightest. Kenji could never get enough of you; his love for you is always, and somehow, endless.

You smiled lovingly underneath his soft gaze, rubbing his own arm that's currently encircling around you so tenderly. You know that stare, but you just didn't want to point it out and simply wanted to relish within that feeling.

The people might see him as the arrogant, boastful person in the public eye— a mere facade that he puts up every so often when it deems necessary. But he acts so differently whenever he's around you, daring himself to let his walls down and be completely vulnerable with you.

With you, he has nothing to hide, shamelessly showing and proving his devotion to you alone; showing you a side that only you get the privilege of seeing it.

Kenji Sato will never cease to treasure you.

@luneariaa. do not repost; reblogs are welcomed. all rights reserved.

[charliedawn]

Heyyy :) glad your back 🖤🖤🖤 I don’t know if your doing requests or not but if you are could you do, how would the slashers flirt with nurse? (Particularly five since he is like a old man I thought that would be funny) no worries if you can’t, I love your work ❣️❣️❣️

Warning: Highly suggestive.

Bo Sinclair :

"Well…Hello there, sugar pie. Ya lookin’ mighty alone. Mind if I change that fer ya ?"

Captain Smooth and Sailing. Bo knows how to be charming and he’d just waltz in with the biggest grin on his face and lean back before shooting you a smouldering gaze.

He knows what he wants and will go to any means to get it. And I mean any…

Bo *sneaking up on you from behind and wrapping his arms around you before giving you a kiss on the shoulder* "…Good mornin’, sunflower…How ya doin’ ? Good ? That’s great…" *whispers in your ear* "Bet I could make it better fer ya though."

He can be smooth, but also filthy. Depends on the day. One day he’ll be whispering sweet nothings into your ear, the next he’ll be slapping your ass and calling it a day.

Pennywise:

Pennywise doesn’t touch. And doesn’t like being touched. His flirtation will be very limited and subtle. It’ll mostly be grins and cackles and mocking huffs…

Pennywise: "Well…Hello there, beautiful. Do you know that your hair is a mess and you look more like an asylum patient than a nurse today ?"

You *roll your eyes and start walking away* "Good morning to you too, Pennywise."

Him *snickers behind you* "Good morning indeed. If I still had to spook children to get my food, I’d certainly take your morning face…That’d do the trick."

Yeah…That’s Pennywise flirting. He wouldn’t flirt with you face to face…but he’d still do some things from time to time.

For example, you may find breakfast magically appearing on your desk, or a cup of (h/d) next to you when you finally sit and take a break.

Penny :

Penny *hugs you tightly and refuses to let you go*

You : "…Penny. I need to work."

Penny *squeezes you harder*

Yeah…You won’t get any work done. That’s for sure. Penny is stubborn. He will not leave you alone and will keep holding you until he has enough.

That’s his way of flirting.

But…He has another side to him.

He bites. He can use it to show affection. He does it sometimes with his brother and the other slashers, but he’d be extra gentle with you and be careful not to hurt you.

He’d bite your wrist, your neck, your cheek…Just to say that he appreciates you. And even if it’s just to say hello. That’s Penny flirting. He doesn’t use words, but actions.

Vincent :

He takes pictures of you. They were pretty innocent at first. He’d take pictures of you walking around the hospital and taking care of the patients. The staff even used his photographs to advertise the hospital.

But quickly…the photographs became recurrent and more intimate. He’d follow you around and almost beg you to pose for him.

He’d become obsessed and bring you some of his morbid art pieces for you two to simply talk and be close to you.

And you try to deny him attention ?

The man knows how to get what he wants. He’s similar to Bo in that way, but where Bo is demanding ? Vincent is all about begging and whining.

He’d go down on his knees and grab the hem of your shirt to pull you towards him and beg you to let him take photographs of you and keep them. Take some for his…personal use.

Vincent flirting is desperation.

He’d beg you until you give him the time of day.

Michael Myers :

Michael *wordlessly pats his thigh*

The seat is all yours if you want it.

Kidding. Or not.

*cough cough*

Michael likes to cook and he’d fix you meals to cheer you up and listen to you if you need to. He’d be the perfect gentleman and even though he can’t talk, he’d make it obvious that he likes you through other means.

He’d protect you and make sure you are happy.

Unfortunately, because he can’t help bu want to kill you all the time, it’d be very difficult for the both of you to actually go on a date or go more than flirting basis. But, he’d still try to let you know that he likes you sometimes.

Michael *takes your hand and pulls you into a tight hug*

Michael may look or sound unapproachable at first, but it is because he is afraid of giving into hate and just lose control over the little humanity he has left…

Freddy Krueger :

"Yo. Wanna bang ?"

Freddy is NOT subtle. He’s a slimy and sleazy little goblin who loves nothing more than touch, grab, grope and squeeze.

He’d follow you around like your personal horny demon.

"Coooome on ! I know ya wanna see what’s in my pants ! Just say yes, sweetheart ! See how daddy does it !"

Filthy language and sleazy smirks all the way. He’d be whistling after you and tip his fedora at you or lick his lips while looking you up and down.

To make it short: Flirty is his middle name and he’d just make sure to let you know that he is ALWAYS available and ready.

Freddy *smirks and takes your hand before dancing with you* "COME ON ! Move those curves, lovely !" *cackles*

Freddy may look and sound like a scumbag most of the time, but he is capable of being romantic. He only lets special people see it.

Jason :

Jason is shy and will never be confrontational when it comes to flirting.

He maybe waves at you and hugs you sometimes, but not enough for you to understand what he means.

But, he is good with his hands and soon enough, goes to work.

Jason leaves you gifts. On your desk, on your nightstand, or any place he thinks you and only you would find them.

He carves little wooden figurines, mostly of frogs that he leaves around for you to find. And you always do. You then put then on a special shelf in the living room for everyone to see and admire.

It may not have been the initial goal, but he is happy to see you smile. And that is all he needs…

Norman Bates :

"My darling…Would you…Would you do me the honour of going on a special outing with me ? Just the two of us ?"

Norman was an anxious wreck. He had sweaty hands and an nervous smile on his face. He wanted you to say yes. He had been thinking about a way to approach the matter with you for weeks…

You smiled back and when you accepted…he was overjoyed.

Norman is rather old-fashioned. His way of flirting is asking you out and treating you like a princess (or a prince)

He’d be more than happy to compliment you all day long and simply brush his fingers against yours while you stare deeply into each other’s eyes.

Five Hargreeves :

"Tell me, Y/N. Are you alright ?"

You glanced back at him and blinked twice at the child who just asked you that question.

"…Last time I checked. Yes."

You then focused back on your work and tried to forget about it, but then Five sat down on your desk to look at the papers you were signing.

You didn’t think much of it until he rested his hand on the back of your neck and his thumb traced circles there.

You looked up at him, and he stared right back. You knew he was technically older inside but…You still swapped his hand away.

"Okay. What do you want ?"

"You. Me. Drink."

Your eyes widened and you looked around.

"How about you come back to me when you are…say…15 years older ?"

Yeah. He may be older in his mind. But his body is still very much the one of a child so…Wait and see.

Patrick Bateman :

"Y/N. It has come to my attention that we haven’t had sex yet. Care to explain why ?"

That man has the ego of a mansion. He wouldn’t be flirting, he’d be practical.

Who needs feelings ? Who needs flirting ? He knows you find him attractive. And you know he finds you attractive. Why waste time on things like flirting ?

Patrick Bateman is a business man.

He sees a relationship as unnecessary as long as it doesn’t bring him anything.

So, if he starts showing interest in you ?

…

..

.

Run.

[esggs]

[Martial arts coach! Sukuna x down bad!reader, huge age gap, couple of god-complex maniacs pining for each other, Sukuna being a tough coach]

“You won’t make it.” Sukuna spits carelessly, unwrapping his sweaty gloves post training. There are promising students he’s scouted in his gym, his favoured ones who’ll be the cash cows winning tournaments, buzzcut boys with tight abs who laugh mid-fight. Growing in his shoes. You’re not one of them. “You’re not good enough.” It’s a statement. 

No, you grit your teeth, it's a challenge. 

Sukuna the Ryomen: beastly calamity in the ring. Raw talent picked off the street, 80 international tournament wins over 25 years, bachelor villa bought with notoriety money. The Undisputed King of the Curses. 

Two-faced, he’d play by the rules as much as he wanted to– ran his tongue over the cheek of an opponent while choking him in a headlock, jammed his knees into countless shattered ribs, snapped spines into halves. He once bit a chunk out an opponent’s neck, goopy blood running down his chin and pecs as he laughed at the horrified screams of the audience, medics running, judges whistling, TV ratings shooting up like firecrackers.

He keeps that piece of chewed flesh, big as your fist, preserved in formaldehyde, on display in his office behind the locker room. It’s oddly captivating– you want to pull his lips up, matching his teeth to the canine marks on the chunk. 

Nutcase. Martial arts fiend. Often disqualified, but never for long: handsome money-maker was he. No one would turn up at a competition if not to watch the fiery Sukuna. His posters filled your childhood bedroom walls, unsupervised access to his gruesome fights on the internet, early 2000’s gossip columns of his many affairs with thin-thighed supermodels, little you copying his moves in front of the mirror. 

So yes, he could be as harsh to you as he wished, who gave a shit now when you’re lucky enough  to bask in his glow? You work just as hard as those boys, deserve his attention just as much, regardless of how cruel that attention comes. If you want to make it, Yuuji tells you, you callus your heart more than your achy knuckles. 

Sometimes at 3.45 am you wonder that if you had gotten more parental love and attention, you wouldn’t have attached yourself so deeply to this retired monster. Too late now, you suppose. 

A few days ago,  Megumi, one of Sukuna’s prize boys, said over a bowl of tteokbokki after practice, “Kamo Noritoshi likes you. So you can go after him and leave the elderly alone, okay?”

“I beat Kamo to a pulp, remember?” You pointed with poked tteok. “There’s only one of you losers I can’t beat and that’s who I’m fucking. Don’t go ruining my ambitions, Megumi-chan.”

The boy just sighed, ordering another bowl to go. Megumi, content being the sacrifice bunt, will never understand and it's not something you can explain. 

It’s that hunger that keeps you awake at night; you don’t want a trophy, you want the trophy– Ryomen Sukuna himself, the greatest one to be won. To be fucked, chewed, swallowed, surpassed. You want to have him, you want to be him. He’s you and you’re him and it’s written fate and oh god you need to go to therapy megumi was right you need to start taking your damn meds on time why is it 3 am again?

……. 

“Sup, coach!” 

You’re a cockroach. You arrive half an hour before session starts, practising kata moves by yourself, grappling dummy puppets double your weight to the ground, turning extravagant somersaults. Standing in front of the line. Every new move Sukuna demonstrates, you ask a billion questions, getting it right exactly as he does it. Running the extra lap, the extra sparring bout with your friends, the extra push-up. 

Sukuna peers inside Megumi's mouth, poking his finger into his gums, checking for any bleeding. Despite his actions, he’s not blind to you, the itchy teeth in your maw. 

It’s not just a sport for people like you and Sukuna. People a little fucked in the head. People whose names, announced out loud, get the audience jumping and cheering, the main attraction of the night. Hurricanes out to flatten the competition. 

See, it’s not about the points. Just the gold doesn’t satisfy: you want blood and broken teeth on the floor after you’re done. You want your opponents to refuse to fight you. You want them crawling, begging for time-outs, their coaches throwing the towel in to save their lives, their teary mothers cursing your very sight. Just like Sukuna.

Sukuna who relishes in your eyes on him. The way your breathing quickens childlike when he wrestles your face to the dirty mat, arms twisted behind you, his heavy foot pinning you down. The way you linger a bit longer when he shrugs his gi off, thick biceps flexing against the overhead lights. What a nut, he thinks: bitten fingernails, daddy issues, all the wrong things that excite you. This one’s gonna kill.  

Your hunger he rears by starvation. The harder you fight for a scrap of his attention to prove yourself, the sweeter you get. He can almost see his own tattoos on your eager face. 

So narcissistic, the way his pants tighten when he watches you fight: it's his devilry that flashes in your young eyes. Too young for him, some noble nonsense of not fucking your student, like he gives a rat’s ass. A rising Alexander, he’ll pick you for himself the second you’re good enough.

He knows to wait for it. Latchkey kids like you, raised to fight for love, you’d never want something you could have. The unreachable glory of Sukuna was what made having him worth it. 

He also knew that once you had him, you’d dig your teeth into him so hard that you’d tear right through him. Maybe preserve him in formaldehyde too. 

Not that he’ll spoon-feed you chances for that. Not that he has to, when you do it for yourself.

“Coach, could you spar with me?”

He’s terribly pleased, but the frown he wears for you remains on his face. “Aiming too high, brat.”

“Sorry,” an apology that you don’t mean in the slightest. “But I think I can qualify for the next tournament, coach. I can start cutting weight tomorrow. Put me in this time, please, coach!” 

“You’re not good enough.”   “Let me convince you, coach.”

“Convince me?” He sounds so bored, as if you’re the greatest waste of his time. I’ll change your mind, you promise. I’d like to see you try– he’s amused. “Oi, Todo! C’mere, beat this one for me. You–” he bends down to hold your chin, privately delighted at your blushing face. “– you score six points in sixty seconds against him, maybe I’ll think of putting you on the tournament roster.”

Right. Aoi Todo, brawler build, has the height and weight advantage on you, which means he’ll go for grappling techniques and try to pin you down to the ground. He’s not the type to go easy on anyone, and he likes to show off, so he’ll keep it short distance and try out some fancy kicks– he’ll waste time on performance and then you’ll get time to return attacks. Here’s the M.O. then: you keep light on your feet, dodge every single attack of his, and go for the head. Amen.

Todo squares up, entering the ring, dabbing you up in a show of good faith before assuming his fighting stance. Just as you predicted, his arms are open to take you down. 

You hold your ground. Todo, my friend, you grin at Sukuna, who for once has all his attention on you, I’m going to kill you. 

Sukuna blows the whistle, and immediately Todo lunges for you. A feint, for he changes tactics immediately and is punching you from the left. You have to jump over his shoulder to avoid it (Yuuji whoops), land behind his back, and before he can turn around, kick his spine so hard that he stumbles forward a bit. 

“2 points!” Sukuna checks the time: it’s been 6 seconds. 

Todo’s impressed too, you can tell. You’re distracted: Sukuna nodded at you! Both of you come back to your original positions, ready for the next point match. The whistle blows. 

He’s cautious this time– you kick his shins but he doesn’t yield an inch, so you attempt an upper-cut, but are caught unawares by his hook straight to your mouth. 

“Todo–1 point!” Your jaw feels dislocated, there’s tears threatening to brim in your eyes. Did you forget your meds again? Why can’t you stop giggling? 35 seconds gone.

Restart. You’re playing dirty now, tripping his ankle as he comes forward to attack. You pass through between his legs (using his height to your own advantage) to get behind him again. As if he was expecting it, you dodge his back kick, taking the moment where he’s off balance to land a 360 kick– right on his face. He groans in surprise, but you’re not done.

This isn’t about winning fair or showing sportsmanship spirit, you remind yourself as you pull Todo’s face into your knee, repeatedly, the sick sounds of his nose cartilage crunching. This is about you, Sukuna. 

He blows the whistle. 42 seconds, the match is over, Todo’s burst his sinuses open, bleeding too badly to avoid medical intervention. A K.O. you’re calling it. ‘What the fuck is wrong with you’ is Megumi’s opinion. 

“Decent.” Sukuna’s smiling. Buzzed giddy on adrenaline and sweat, you want to kill the both of you. “Fine. Start the diet tomorrow.” He’s already leaving, other students to tend to. You’re a tad disappointed: you thought it’d be him checking your bleeding jaw, not the medic. Still, you’re happy taking what you can. It doesn’t come by often. “Come by my office after practice.”

a/n: i wrote this while looping bread by anya nami, really elevated the experience