#I also just miss my sketchbook in general. | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

armysantiny · 5 months

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Perfect Little Pet – KHJ

P: Hongjoong x afab gender neutral reader | G: smut, oneshot | Inc: cruella!au, cruella!hongjoong, assistant!reader, 'Captain', 'pet', Felix mention, journalist!Wooyoung, Yunho mention, Wooyoung/Yunho mention, set in the UK, Trafalgar Square, flaring tempers i.e. Hongjoong's, fashion studio, cruella movie-esque fashion show, Hongjoong occasionally abusing his power, wet dreams, fwb ending, a lot of British references and general mannerisms, two smut scenes | Wc: 5.9k

W: d/s tones, 'Captain' used during sex, bent over the desk, dom!Joong, sub!reader, overstim, begging, wet dreams, blowjob, cumshot on face, backshot during sex, one/two uses of the word slut, 'pet' used during sex (please let me know if I've forgotten anything, I'm writing this post up at 1 am)| R: 18+ mdni

Summary: Captain. Anyone who’s anyone knows who that is; none other but the rising name in fashion and making a name for himself for his eye-catching and punk-inspired shows. And right there in the back, is obedient little y/n, the childhood friend. The assistant to the Captain and one of the few to know Hongjoong for who he is behind the scenes, uptight and frantic and so achingly desperate to be perfect. Good thing they’re the Captain’s perfect little pet.

Min's notes: We're starting the year off strong! And you may have figured it out already, but @hee0soo, I'm your secret santa! I had so so so much fun writing this, you have no idea. When I tell you I was giggling like an idiot when you answered my question in the server, it was perfect. I hope you like reading this! And this happens to be my longest fic <33 also, 'on the dole' = on benefits hehe

There’s graphite on his hands, smudged all over the sketchbook, and Hongjoong takes another look at the plain mannequin standing by its lonesome in his office. Something’s missing, he knows it. Is it the hem? The length of the sleeves? Whatever it is, Hongjoong can’t bloody tell and it’s driving him up the wall. The designer groans, dissatisfied with own progress and discards the sketchbook on his desk. He gets up with just as much frustration, boots stomping across the floor in the direction of the balcony. His production facility looms below him, hard at work.

Almost taunting him.

“Just one more…” he mutters, taking a reluctant step back into his seat, “one more of the bloody things and I’ll be ready for runway…” Sure, it is self-imposed encouragement, but it is encouragement. Hongjoong isn’t a beggar. He’ll take what he can get. And take, of course. Until his pencil simply drags along the paper with no real goal and he snaps the dastardly thing between his sleek fingers, throwing its remains against the closest wall. It clatters to the floor just as the frustrated designer storms towards the door to his office, opening it and unleashing a powerful tension upon the production floor.

“Bring y/n up here!”

Y/n shivers from where they stand, helping move a box of supplies into the stock room. No matter how long they’ve stood by Hongjoong’s side, there is nothing that will help them get used to the sound of him barking out a command like that. A frustrated Hongjoong is a live wire – temperamental, snappy, and not someone to be approached without caution. They freeze with the box for just a moment before it’s taken out of their hands by one of the new starters.

“Captain sounds pretty miffed,” they say, pulling on the sleeve of their hoodie, “go on, I’ve got this!”

“If you’re sure…”

“Course I am luv, go on already~” And y/n is all but gently shoved out of the stock room, left to face their employer. And childhood friend.

All eyes are on y/n as they walk through the building towards those ever-familiar stairs, trying to ignore the weight of everyone’s gaze. It’s just Hongjoong, our Joongie, there’s nothing to be anxious over, their mind repeats, heels clicking along the wooden panelling amongst the unusual human silence. Seconds go by excruciatingly slowly, and finally, y/n stands in front of Hongjoong’s office. One steadying breath, and then another.

The door opens before they have a chance to knock, Hongjoong all but yanking his assistant inside and locking the door behind them both. There’s an impatient energy in the room, furthered even more by the fact y/n watches their friend pull them along to the mannequin and frantically go about putting his prized mannequin back by the window where it overlooks the production floor.

“Lean against the wall for me, will ya?” Hongjoong asks, reaching for his sketchbook once again, certain he’s found a muse in y/n. They have this gait around them that would work just so well with his new line, it would be criminal if he doesn’t capture it on paper at least once. Well, perhaps a few times, because the creativity comes back with a vengeance. His pencil glides along the cartridge paper with ease, framing y/’s silhouette perfectly and a grin erupts on his face.

Finally. Finally, he can make a start on creating the showstopper piece.

Time is but an illusion as Hongjoong works on his piece, occasionally looking up to really solidify the vision he’s got in mind. Y/n’s holding themselves just the way he needs them to, providing just the right amount of feedback and silence he needs, and Hongjoong might as well be inside a creative paradise of his own making. He’s found the right formula. He’s found his new muse, perfectly shaped in the image of y/n, his little assistant. The outfit seems to come together all on its own as he draws, each stroke of the pencil working in tandem with each other to create a look he knows will absolutely shock the viewing public in Trafalgar Square.

It’s around an hour later when the design is finally complete, Hongjoong’s mind at ease as he does one last look over everything. He’s done it. The look is perfect. There is just one thing…

He’s rather hungry now.

“Right,” he starts, setting his sketchbook down, “that’s us done here y/n, thanks again pet~”

“O-oh, it’s no prob—”

“But do get us a spot of lunch, would you? I’ve been dying to try out that new brunch café. I want either a chicken alfredo or a chicken Caesar salad, understood?” He tosses y/n his wallet as they begin to leave, turning on his heel and collapsing into his office chair with a yawn.

“Your regular coffee too, Captain?” Y/n asks. Oh, what a darling they are.

“You know me too well~ of course I want my coffee. I want them both here by the half hour.”

“Yes, Captain.”

Checking the time as they leave the café, y/n breathes a sigh of relief: they’ve got at least another fifteen minutes to make it back to the factory if they can get to Hongjoong’s favourite coffee spot before the lunchtime rush, otherwise they’ll be late. So, they make a break for it, taking extra care to leave their Captain’s lunch flat in their bag lest they have alfredo decorate the inside of the gifted Nevada Leather Weekender slung over their shoulder. The coffee spot itself is only a few metres away, less than a few minutes to run, but every second counts in the world of the Captain.

Lady Fate is on their side it seems, because there absolutely no sign of a queue, or even the beginnings of one, when y/n makes it to the coffee shop. Aurora, a quaint little place y/n remembers Hongjoong spending almost every free minute in before they watched their friend shoot to success, when they were still just two friends with a dream. Their running slows to a brisk walk as they enter, greeting the barista with a smile and getting a card ready as soon as they confirm they’re after the usual iced latte with two extra shots of espresso and a shot of vanilla. Once payment goes through and the coffee is in their hands, y/n is out of there in a heartbeat, eager to make it back in time.

“Look at you~ exactly two minutes early,” Hongjoong muses as he sees y/n walk into his office. He pockets his stopwatch, hangs his custom-made coat on the coatrack and takes his coffee. “If there’s anyone I trust to make coffee the way I like it, it’s that pretty one with the deep voice. Face of an angel, but, God, that voice?”

Oh. His lunch is on the desk, but y/n is still here.

Strange.

“Well, are you waiting for me to say something? Run along now, pet, go… oh, I don’t know, busy yourself until I need you.” He chuckles, shooing them away and waving with his fingers once y/n is finally out of the door and Hongjoong can eat his lunch in private, just the way he likes.

Y/n’s bag slides down their arm and onto the floor of their studio flat as they step inside, well-earned exhaustion lacing their bones and pulling a yawn out of their mouth as they fall onto their sofa. They’re used to running all over London for Hongjoong, sure – hell, their daily step count always passes ten thousand – but it’s the weeks leading up to one of his planned fashion event-hijackings that y/n truly feels the burn. Where they truly feel pushed to their tether.

But it’s always worth it in the end, they remind themselves in between making themselves a cup of tea, watching the kettle boil. Together, they will achieve worldwide success, their brand – Silver Light – will be in every boutique and everyone will know who the Captain is. Y/n spoons a teaspoon of sugar into the mug, pops in the teabag and pours the boiling water and milk, huffing at the connection their mind puts together.

They’re the teaspoon of sugar. Not the main event, no, but an addition to make things sweeter. To make Hongjoong’s plans sweeter.

“New sources and evidence have since come to light regarding the hijacking of Oxford Circus last week. The impromptu fashion show was caused by the organisation called Silver Light, headed by someone calling themselves the ‘Captain’, who witnesses say was armed with a cane, yet no one has been harmed. Following an insider comment…”

The rest of the news story plays on tv, y/n’s interest piqued when they recognise the journalist behind it all. One of Hongjoong’s newer friends, a trusted insider working for the BBC that y/n’s met a good few times. They grab their phone from its charger, unplugging it and dialling the number they’re looking for. It’s a few seconds before they hear the call pick up on the other end of the line.

“Can it be~?” Wooyoung’s voice sings through the phone, “the Captain’s assistant is calling little ol’ me~?”

“Good evening to you too, Wooyoung.” Y/n laughs, ever fond of the charming journalist. “I’m watching your news report tonight, my… you know just how to create the right kind of excitement. A master with words, one would say. Just how do you it~?”

“Y/n, darling,” y/n can almost see the playful rolling of the journalist’s eyes, “you’re flattering me, you know? But flattery gets you everywhere with me, so thank you ever so much.”

The conversation goes on for another half hour, y/n giving Wooyoung all the subtle information he needs to create the next buzz around Silver Light’s next big show. There needs to be a sizable crowd for Trafalgar next week, and Wooyoung is just the right person to weave his words and create that buzz y/n knows Hongjoong is looking for. All manner of press and paparazzi should be there; Silver Light needs to be on the front cover of every broadsheet and tabloid in England.

And when they switch to video call so Wooyoung can jot everything down, y/n chooses to ignore the knowing glance sent their way. They’ve had this conversation before, plenty of times even – concern that all of y/n’s efforts aren’t their own will, that Hongjoong’s somehow forcing them to be his assistant. That couldn’t be further from the truth.

They make themselves another cup of tea, and sigh when Wooyoung still refuses to back down.

“Woo, I know that look,” they sigh, already knowing what comes next. The concern, the lecturing. The you’re being his servant, y/n, you deserve more than that. “This isn’t something Hongjoong is making me do, I really do want Silver Light to succeed. This is my dream too, even if it doesn't look like I want it as much as he does, or it looks like he’s forcing me.”

“Y/n…”

“Have a little faith in me, hm?” They bargain. “I’ll be fine, I promise.”

“If you say so—” Wooyoung’s gaze snaps to something above the camera, “oh, Yunho’s home, he brought food! See you soon y/n~”

“See you soon, say hi to Yunho for me.”

The call ends, and y/n is left with their thoughts, a hot cup of tea, and a muted news channel playing on their tv. Rather than let themselves succumb to the impeding thoughts on the horizon, y/n sips on their tea, unmutes their tv and scrolls through BBC iPlayer until they find the most recent unwatched episode of MasterChef and hits play. The thought manages to persist, though.

Are they just Hongjoong’s errand runner? A simple cog in the machine that Hongjoong pays just that bit more attention to than the others?

Hongjoong’s footsteps echo along the floor as he walks through the production floor, inspecting every station as he passes them by. The Trafalgar show is but days away and he cannot afford a single error whatsoever. He’s counting on this one to be a success; Wooyoung’s articles have created the right kind of stir he needs, y/n’s been busting their ass helping him with the finer details, the last thing Hongjoong needs is his plan falling apart.

So why the fuck can he see someone stitching a button incorrectly?

“You!” He barks, storming over to the unsuspecting employee, fury lining his brows. It stuns the rest of the room into silence, terror in their eyes as they watch. “Are you trying to ruin this week’s show?! Just what the bloody hell do you think you’re doing?!”

They shiver, the poor thing, watching as Hongjoong furiously inspects the garment for any more errors. It’s a simple mistake really, a small oversight but they know better. Everyone at Silver Light knows better:

Captain doesn’t give second chances.

But then Hongjoong smiles. Not a genuine one by any means, no, but something that’s a little too sweet.

“What’s your name, darling?”

“M-my name is Felix, Captain—” whatever Felix tries to say is cut off by a heart-attack inducing bang, Hongjoong’s cane slamming down on their workstation in the blink of an eye. The shock sends Felix tumbling, and they prick their thumb on a fashion pin, droplets of blood staining the floor where they stand.

“Oh, just get out!”

“Captain, wait! P-please!”

“You’re fired, get out!”

A pin-drop silence echoes through the building, Hongjoong’s frustration palpable to everyone watching. The workstation is unmanned now, no one remaining to take the task, yet the buttons still need to be taken out and resewn on. Properly, this time. Exhaling, Hongjoong slips his cap off in favour of brushing his hand through his hair, the black and white split-dye messing up and framing his face.

What he needs right now, is y/n to make his problem go away. To be his reliable ally and fix the problem in his way.

He pats his coat down, looking for his phone and almost wants to cry out in relief when he finds the infernal device in his back pocket. A deep breath slips past his lips, and he calls y/n.

And like the angel they are, y/n picks up.

“…Joong?” They rasp out, clearly still tired. “It’s my day off, is everything alright over there?”

No, everything is not alright, Hongjoong wants to rant, the stress itching away at under his skin.

“I really, really wish it was, pet. How fast can you get here?” He asks, praying that the rustling he hears from the other end is y/n changing into their usual work outfit.

“Y/n? Pet?”

“Still here!” They call out, and Hongjoong has half the mind to kiss them when they arrive. “Just checked the traffic, I can make it in twenty?”

“Make it fifteen and I’ll get you that pretty gem of a car you’ve had your eye on.” Hongjoong offers, huffing out a laugh when y/n readily agrees, and the line goes dead seconds later. They’re on their way to Silver Light, and all his problems will be solved. For whom else can Kim Hongjoong rely on other than his y/n?

The clock ticks by agonisingly slowly, teasing Captain with every second that y/n is still on their way. Sure, he can fix this specific coat that Felix so wonderfully fucked up, but there’s a whole line of these that need to be done, and the designer is only human. He can’t do this alone. But he can relax because as soon as Captain resigns himself to hand-stitching every coat, y/n comes in through the door, hurrying over to the workstation and shoo-ing Captain away.

“And you fired him?! Over a button?!” Y/n asks, completely baffled as they listen to Hongjoong rant while they’re stitching the buttons properly. “You really have lost your marbles, Kim Hongjoong.”

“But you still came to my aid! Y/n, you know I couldn’t do all of this without you~” They deadpan, scoffing with smile they can’t control when Hongjoong latches himself onto their back in gratitude. “You’ll be able to handle doing the rest of the coat buttons, right?

Y/n rolls their eyes. They can handle it.

“Bring Felix back, and I’ll stay until the end of the day,” they bargain.

“Deal!”

Y/n doesn’t regret offering to help Hongjoong, really, they don’t, but they have a day off in the middle of the week for a reason. Exhaustion nips away them as they finish the last of the coat buttons, hanging the last one on the rack and patting the sleep out of their face as best they can. Felix is back inside, replacing y/n at his workstation with a meek smile and y/n doesn’t know whether to be happy the young man is back or give the split-dyed designer running the entire outfit a piece of their mind—

And Hongjoong’s calling them into his office.

There’s a corkboard standing when they enter, Hongjoong pinning post-its with various last-minute details. It’s chaotic — more so than usual. Y/n takes a few steps towards the board, reading Hongjoong’s ideas and avoiding the eccentric designer running circles around them.

“Why the last-second rush around?” They ask, still obediently helping Hongjoong sort out his mismatch of written thoughts. “I thought we figured all the details? You’re going to smash the event, Joong, I know what you’re capable of.”

“Awe, thanks y/n~” Hongjoong pats their shoulder. “Your unwavering faith in me is awe inspiring~”

“Oh, shut up,” y/n laughs, then yawns. Bloody hell, they’re tired. “I know I said I was going to stay for the rest of the day, but I’m asleep on my feet here... I can come in tomorrow?” It’s a risky bargain trying to convince Hongjoong like this, but it’s worth a try.

“Y/n, pet... You’re just fine, just sit in here for a bit,” and there goes their chance at rest as Hongjoong admonishes them. “And I need that brilliant mind of yours for later; can’t have you sitting at home, now can we~?”

No, no he can’t apparently. So, y/n stays, because of course they do.

But now it’s a day before the big hijack, at the god-awful time of one in the morning and Hongjoong is still deliberating over what to wear for the event, lovingly dubbed Project Trafalgar by his darling y/n. Y/n, who answered his messages only half an hour before and watches Hongjoong run around from their spot on his bed, legs crossed and looking oh so cute.

So easily corruptible. But he stores that thought away.

Hongjoong holds up one of his favourite blazers for y/n, a navy cropped piece he’s admittedly worn far too many times. It’s supposed to go with the rest of his outfit that’s already spent a good few hours working on, one that’s going to blow people’s minds away when he reveals himself once Project Trafalgar finishes successfully. Y/n tilts their head, examining the clothing and giving a sleepy thumbs up, nodding their head as they approve of his choices.

“You know~” Hongjoong sings as he goes to hang the blazer up in preparation for tomorrow. “Sometimes I think you’re the true genius behind our success, you always know just how to make everything look absolutely perfect.”

Y/n laughs, and Hongjoong wants to hear more of it.

“Is that Kim Hongjoong appreciating me I hear?” They tease, and Hongjoong gets to hear more of that endearing laugh when he mock-glares in their direction. “I’m just taking the mick, relax. I appreciate what you said, this is important to me. Silver Light and yourself.”

“You’re important me to me too, pet.” And it’s true.

His outfit hung up and decided, Hongjoong finally starts to feel the pull of exhaustion himself. Y/n really wasn’t lying when they said the designer was going to crash from his adrenaline high. He stretches, lithe and cat-like, and disappears into his ensuite to change into something a bit more… suitable for sleeping after an all-nighter putting together his outfit. His cleanser and other nighttime hygiene products are on the shelf above the sink, and Hongjoong figures that he might as well get started removing the stress of the day from his face.

“Y/n, darling,” he starts, “do you think that—”

Hongjoong stops talking when he gets no answering noise in return, and he pokes his head out of his bathroom. Y/n is asleep. He chuckles; of course, y/n is asleep because unlike himself, y/n actually has a normal sleep schedule.

So, he forgoes the question was going to ask them in favour of heading to his bed, lifting’s y/n’s head and resting it on his lap after he sits down. Their hair is soft, he finds, loosely getting his fingers tangled as he finds a strange comfort in the moment he's found himself in. The silence doesn’t help either; letting Hongjoong’s mind spill out words of gratitude he knows his pride would never let him say. It’s better that way, anyway.

But Captain isn’t entirely devoid of basic human empathy.

“Get some rest, pet,” he mutters, “you earned it, my busy little assistant.”

Hongjoong shivers, his head thrown back on the sofa of his flat as he watches y/n through near-shut eyes. They’ve got the head of his cock in their mouth, swirling their tongue around the tip and good lord does Hongjoong want to just buck his hips into y/n’s warm, pretty mouth and—

Not yet. Not if he wants to stretch this out and enjoy it just that little bit longer.

But apparently, he isn’t the only impatient one in the room because y/n wastes no time in getting more of his length inside their mouth, hand wrapping around the remainder. Cold hands and a warm mouth are a killer combination, and Hongjoong shivers with a groan, bucking his hips forward and enjoying the sound of y/n’s muffled surprise.

“Don’t you start acting like that, pet,” he says, reaching down to grab their hair. He gives a few testing thrusts and fuck does he want more. “You’re just as eager as I am, you and I both bloody well know that.”

A rhythm develops, one that has sinful noises bouncing around Hongjoong’s flat and a coil of heat building in his abdomen, his orgasm drawing closer by the minute. Y/n’s moans send vibrations up his cock, and it’s really not all that fair. Not when he’s trying so hard not to just shoot his load down y/n’s pretty throat.

But fuck if y/n isn’t trying to suck his soul out, their criminally talented tongue making his cock twitch. Higher and higher his voice climbs, until his hips are twitching, breaking his rhythm and Hongjoong wraps his legs around y/n’s back, gently forcing them to look him in the eye.

“Where do you want it, pet?” He’s met with y/n’s questioning blink before they tap their face and their chest. “Fucking tease, want me to paint you in my cum? That right, baby?”

They nod, pulling themselves of Hongjoong and yanking off their top in record time. His cock is in their mouth again, twitching as the coil builds and builds, until Hongjoong pulls out, pulling y/n’s face back and coming with a shout of their name.

“Fuck, darling...that was—"

Y/n’s startled awake when Hongjoong shoots up out of bed, watching through tired eyes as the frazzled man looks around the bedroom. They do the same, deciding under the cloud of sleep to not question how and why they ended up in the same bed, but whatever time it is, is no humane time to be awake. So, y/n pads around for their phone, checks the time, and groans.

It’s three in the morning.

“Joong...everything okay?” They ask, shrugging the cover over their face, eager to return to sleep.

“Hm? Oh— yes, yes... everything’s fine, just have Trafalgar on my mind.” Of course, he does. They roll their eyes, an affectionate chuckle and reach over to yank him back down, filing away the sound of Hongjoong’s squeak in the depths of their mind.

“Go back to sleep, love…it’s too early for you to fret.” Y/n says, the comfort of their words wrapped in the inviting warmth of sleep. They fall back asleep just as well, quickly enough that they miss the tint on Hongjoong’s face and his mumbled agreement.

There is all but one precious hour until Project Trafalgar is underway, and Captain has been fidgeting with his hands for the last half of it. He goes through every step of the process once, twice and he’s about to go through it a third time when Captain feels a hand on his shoulder. It’s y/n, and he takes a few deep breaths as per their instructions as his mind hits the breaks on his fretting.

“Captain, you’re doing it again.” They admonish. He blinks; he’s doing what? “Bloody hell, you’re the greatest fashion visionary in British history, this will go perfectly. Ok?”

“Ok.” Captain nods, maintaining eye contact. Reliable little y/n, always by his side. He keeps up with the eye contact, looking into the eyes watching him with so much confidence and unbridled trust that he can feel the confidence resurface under his own skin.

And then y/n leans forward to peck his lips, and his heart does a thing.

“Go on, show them all who Silver Light’s captain is.” Y/n chuckles.

“Are you saying they forgot, pet?” Hongjoong counters, the need to fret over last minute details gone entirely. “Tonight, will be unforgettable, I can promise you that much pet. Make sure you’re watching, hm?”

And watch, y/n does, as they stay hidden away from the obvious police presence Silver Light seems to attract and watch as Captain’s show begins. The music is loud, attention-grabbing and y/n feels excitement light up every nerve in their body. Months. Months and months of sweat, blood and tears has gone into every moment, and they watch the models come into view, each wearing an individual piece from Captain’s new line. It’s gorgeous. Utterly stunning, and y/n can’t help but snap a few pictures and record a quick video.

They’re going to need material to send to Wooyoung, after all.

The next half of the models make their appearance, and y/n very much joins the crowd’s cheering, clapping as each piece is given its moment and basking in the theatrics of it all. Everything sings with Hongjoong’s personal touch. It’s dramatic and elegant and everything that y/n knows to be the essence of Hongjoong’s taste and the Silver Light brand. The crowds are loud, and y/n uses the opportunity to slip away unnoticed from the police and the general public, back into the safehouse Silver Light had so kindly borrowed for tonight’s event. Sure, they’re going to miss when Hongjoong reveals himself and scatters leaflets inviting everyone to purchase an item from his collection, but they’ve seen that all before.

And then they fall asleep on the closest sofa.

Hongjoong bounces in with excitement as he pushes the door of the safehouse wide open, the leftover adrenaline coursing through his veins. He laughs, victorious and gleeful before yanking a now wide-awake y/n.

“Someone looks happy~” they comment, and Hongjoong stops outside his makeshift office, letting his adrenaline take the lead and planting a kiss on their lips.

“Oh, y/n,” he exclaims, pushing open the door and pulling y/n inside. “You have no idea! My darling pet, I~ will be making good on that promise I made.”

And almost immediately he has y/n pressed against the wall as he captures their lips in a kiss, eager and finally getting to act on that bundle of unspoken desire in his chest. A hand is cupping their cheek, tilting y/n’s head as Hongjoong’s tongue pushes past their bottom lip, demanding entry in the only way he can. He explores the warmth he had dreamt about, a chuckle sounding in his throat as y/n’s mouths feels just as good as he had imagined.

“Perfect…” he whispers, a trail of saliva connecting their mouths as he pulls away. “my perfect, perfect y/n…”

Hongjoong gasps in pleasant surprise when y/n makes the move to attack his neck, kissing and sucking on his skin with vigour. He relents, exposing his neck for his darling y/n and busies himself with the task of removing their clothes. By simply ripping them clean off, enjoying the surprised whimper that vibrates against his neck. He pulls them back just that little bit, running his gaze across their exposed body and—

Oh, how pretty his y/n is.

The hairs on the back of y/n’s neck stand up under Hongjoong’s eyes as heavy breaths leave their lips. This is happening now, and they want it, no matter what tonight will do to their friendship with the man in front of them. Whatever lingering hesitations they’ve ever had go out the window, and y/n wastes no time themselves in removing Hongjoong’s clothes, just that bit gentler about it than him.

“Pretty little pet,” they shiver as Hongjoong whispers in their ear. “Want to be good for me, don’t you?”

And they do. They really, really do.

Somewhere in between heated touches and the new hickeys being made on their skin, y/n watches as Hongjoong sinks to his knees, grabbing the inside of their thighs and getting dangerously close to their cunt. He’s taking his time, kissing just close enough to their folds, making y/n twitch in anticipation, but it’s not enough. They want more. Y/n needs more. So, they buck their hips, chasing the feeling but whimper the moment Hongjoong pulls himself away and holds them still.

“You said you’d be good for me, pet, didn’t you?” They nod.

“Then beg. Beg for me to get my mouth on that gorgeous little cunt like the good little slut we both know you are for me.”

So, y/n begs. Pleads with Hongjoong to shove his face in between their legs and eat them out until their knees buckle, for him to push his lithe fingers inside and wring cries out of their mouth. For Hongjoong to fuck them.

Satisfied, Hongjoong digs his fingers into y/n’s thighs as he pulls their legs apart, tutting as his favourite little pet tries closing their legs, suddenly shy. What, did they think he was joking?

“Still or I leave you like this, understand?”

“Yes, yes Captain…” And Hongjoong likes that.

“You keep calling me that, pet.” He says, and wastes no time in pulling himself closer, licking a fat stripe along y/n’s folds. They’re wet, and Hongjoong goes to town, indulging himself and sucking on the sensitive flesh until his nose is buried in y/n’s cunt, drinking up the sounds of his pet’s gasps and whines, his title a song on their lips. He keeps going, bringing his fingers to y/n’s untouched clit, rubbing against the bud in achingly slow circles.

He spends minutes like this, slipping two of his fingers inside y/n’s sopping cunt and sparing little mercy as he coaxes them closer and closer to orgasm. Hongjoong’s cock is stiff in his dress pants, straining against the fabric and the taste on y/n on his tongue is going to make him fucking come if he isn’t careful. He peers up from where he’s kneeling between their legs, hooded eyes making contact with the desperation looking back at him.

“Hong— Captain! Please!” Y/n cries when Hongjoong slips a third finger inside them, hands scrambling for purchase against the wall of the office. They’re close, so achingly close and fucking dammit they need to come so badly. But Hongjoong doesn’t relent, raising a brow and watching them writhe where they stand.

“Please, what, pet?” He taunts. “Use your words like the good pet you are.”

“I— I want to come! Please, Captain, I’m so— fuck, fuck— so close, I need—” Whatever words they want to say are stolen out of their throat, replaced instead by an overwhelming pleasure that has them squeezing their eyes shut, at the mercy of Hongjoong’s will. It’s unrelenting, and soon enough their orgasm is crashing through them, shooting stars through their vision all the while Hongjoong makes them ride it out on his fingers, the man getting off his knees and pulling them into a heated kiss. They can taste themselves on his lips, and it only spurs on another wave of desire.

They’re bent over the desk when the last of the first aftershocks leave their systems, head held back by neck as Hongjoong whispers dirty promises and slides his cock into their inviting – and only a little sensitive – cunt. A second goes by, the designer allowing y/n to only just get used to it before he starts thrusting, a leisurely quick pace.

“All this time, darling,” Hongjoong groans from above them,” all this time I could have had this perfect body of yours bent over my desk. Made for me, you were, absolutely made for me.”

And fuck, aren’t they just?

Hongjoong can’t hold back anymore, and he presses his chest against y/n’s back, pounding away into their tight hole and groping their chest in his hands, nipples caught in between thumb and index finger. Y/n’s cries are only motivation, and in the few seconds it takes for him to figure out the best angle, Hongjoong decides he’s allowed to chase his own high, giving into the devil on his shoulder and biting on the soft flesh of y/n shoulder.

“It’s so much, oh god—”

“Fuck- just a little longer pet, c’mon,” he rasps, his own orgasm well within reach. “Where do you want it, hm? You can answer that much, can’t you?”

“Yes, yes, fuck— on my back, I want it on my back!” And what else is Hongjoong to do, but oblige? He fucks them into them with the slightest hint of abandon, holding y/n impossibly closer and the orgasm builds, and builds, until he’s pulling out and coming onto their back with a drawn-out moan, his hips stuttering as the waves of pleasure begin to die down.

Exhaustion makes its way into the room, but it’s welcome this time, as Hongjoong very graciously helps y/n rest on the sofa he’d luckily had moved inside the office. There’s some wipes and a towel, and he makes quick work of cleaning the both of them up, ruffling up y/n’s hair when they watch him, almost surprised.

“And what’s that look for?” He huffs, tossing the used wipes away and patting them both dry. “I’m not that bad.”

Y/n simply laughs and shakes their head. They’re rather cute sometimes.

“Just,” they gesture to the office and between the two of them, “all of this; the event, the sex, the… us, I guess? I’m going to be sore tomorrow but fuck, that was amazing.”

Hongjoong nods along as he heads over to his desk and pulls out two water bottles, handing one to y/n as he sits down beside them, the pair donning robes. Nothing but the finest cotton, of course. There’s a silence that overcomes the rooms, and Hongjoong welcomes it – y/n too, sinking into the plush cushions and eying the evidence of sex in the room.

And then Hongjoong breaks the three minutes of silence, because his mind suddenly craves an answer.

“Y/n, pet… do you think this will change anything?”

“Between us, you mean?” He nods.

“Well, you’re treating me the same way you normally do, I don’t exactly want to date you…seems pretty same-y to me.” Y/n reasons, but then they pause. “Though, the sex continuing would be a pretty nice bonus~”

Hongjoong laughs, “so our little relationship is on the dole then, is it?”

“Oh shut up, you.”

Networks: @kwritersworld, @kdiarynet, @ultkpopnetwork, @whipped-kpop-creators, @ateezlovenet, @cromernet

If you’ve made it this far, thank you for reading! Consider reblogging, leaving some feedback or donating to my kofi!

Taglist: @teeztheflag, @jeonqquk, @mikailo666, @blonghoonie, @xavi-in-kpopland, @marxenash, @tinystarstay | Taglist form

#Writer Elf Minnie #kwritersworldnet #kdiarynet #ultkpop #wkcnet #ateezlovenet #cromernet #ateez #ateez hongjoong #hongjoong smut #ateez smut #ateez x reader #hongjoong x reader #ateez au #hongjoong au

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alexibeeart · 1 year

Photo

MyHouse.wad

On March 2 2023, a user called Veddge posted this thread in the WADs and Mods Doomworld forum:

MyHouse

Excited to finally release this tribute map. Last August I lost a good childhood friend of mine and took it pretty hard. When I was visiting my hometown for his funeral, I connected with his parents who shared with me some of his old belongings. Among them was a copy of an old map of his backed up on a 3.5” floppy from high school. Thomas and I were into amateur Doom mapping in the early 00s but I had never seen this map of his prior to uncovering it on one of the old floppy discs. As a way of paying tribute to him and all the great memories we had together, I took the plunge and installed Doom Builder in order to polish up his map and add a few modern amenities just for convenience sake.

I haven’t touched an editor in over 15 years so it was quite a surprise to find out how easy mapping has become. I may have gotten a little carried away with these new UDMF features and, as such, the map is designed for GZDoom. From the text file:

Doom 2 - GZDoom, hardware renderer

1 map: Not much of a challenge and roughly 10 minutes of play time. All difficulty settings implemented.

Jumping & crouching disabled, freelook is fine

Lots of Doomcute!

Making maps of your house was all the rage back-in-the-day, but I feel like this is a pretty adorable and detailed tribute to my friend and a great way to share something of him with a community we loved. Miss you, Tom.

Download myhouse.wad

Contained within is a link to a Google Drive folder containing myhouse.wad—a DOOM map of a normal 20th century suburban house where you mow down baddies and collect a blue, yellow, and red keycard to reach the exit—photos, text files, screenshots, and some images of a sketchbook.

There is also another version of the mod in a different format: myhouse.pk3. Opening this file to start a new game shows the map exactly the same as myhouse.wad ... until it isn’t.

Read Vegge’s original post, poke around in the GDrive, don’t look up anything else if you can help it, and give this a go. If you’re stumped, you might need to get some fresh air outside. General content warnings in the tags; spoiler cws under the cut. Obviously there is much more to this map than it seems ...

general content warnings for myhouse.pk3: blood, gore, violence, guns, weapons, pov, monsters, zombies, demons, flashing lights, eye strain

spoilery content warnings for myhouse.pk3: liminal spaces, the backrooms, unreality, substance abuse, alternate reality, enclosed spaces, open spaces, animal death, mirrors, mirror world, spiders, fire ... please ask me to tag anything i missed! this is still a very new puzzlebox of a game and it’s possible there’s still more to discover ...

#fps #gaming #DOOM #DOOM mod #DOOM WAD #myhouse.wad #myhouse.pk3 #blood #gore #violence #guns #weapons #pov #monsters #zombies #demons #flashing lights #eye strain #ask to tag

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illubean · 4 months

Text

Valorant Protocol as Highschool Stereotypes

Characters: Chamber, Gekko, Iso, Jett, Killjoy, Neon, Phoenix, Raze, Sage, Skye, Viper, Yoru Type: Headcanons

HAHA help me valorant brainrot >.< also this is based off of my hs experience soooo yeah

Warnings: none

Chamber

your typical pretty boy

all the girls love him all the boys hate him

well...most of the girls love him

they follow him around to classes or offer him gifts or ask to sit with him at lunch etc.

and he eats up the attention every time

he's lab partners with Viper in Environmental Sciences and he likes trying to flirt with her

she actually hates him btw

Gekko

canonically he skateboards

but honestly? I can see him being on the dance team

he's so high energy, he needs some sort of outlet

he never misses an opportunity to show off his dance moves

homecoming? prom? he is the center of the dance circle

like Raze, he doesn't know how popular he is

he's just happy to have so many good friends that it doesn't even actually occur to him that he's considered "popular"

Iso

he's an ap art kid

like he walks around with a big ass sketchbook every day

always talking about his portfolio

Iso baby ily but please shut the fuck up about oil paints <3

he probably volunteered part of his summer break to come in and paint a mural for the school

I think he'd also take a piano class as like a schedule filler but he actually gets crazy good at it

Jett

pe tryhard

if you end up on the opposite team as her while playing dodge ball good luck 😓

she's always picked as team captain because literally no one else is excited as she is

she's sorta like Hairo from Saiki K 💀

she gets a lil mad when her teammates don't try

Killjoy

she's in robotics club

she's not very popular but that doesn't bother her at all

she heads straight to and from every class and spends her lunch period in the workshop unless Raze drags her off somewhere

not a lot of people actually know who she is, and if they do they just know her as 'Raze's Friend'

i think she'd remind the teacher about the homework and hit you with the "erm actually 🤓" tbh

Neon

she's on track and field/cross country

after every meet you can find her laying on the floor somewhere ready to puke bc she tries so hard to win 😭

she always ends up top 5 tho

she complains about practice but joins the team every year anyways

she carries her bag around all the time and if you open it there's like 10 water bottles in there

#hydratedqueen

Phoenix

theater kid DUHH

he's probably drama club president or sumn

bro will NOT let go of a specific song from a musical he was in his freshman year and it wasn't even his song 💀

he's been in every show every year and somehow he manages to land every role he wants

he's insanely good at the game 'bang' (mostly because he's louder than everyone else...)

he probably plans/hosts the cast parties too

Raze

she doesn't care much about her grades

she does the bare minimum and gets straight Cs

she's just here to have fun

everyone likes her because of her approachable personality

she doesn't think she's popular but she is

Sage

she's in the medical assistant class

she takes it very seriously, as she plans on going to medical school

even before taking the class she carries a first aid kit and other essentials everywhere she goes

you need a bandaid? ibuprofen? a pad or tampon? she has it all

she's also ASB president

school events literally would not be able to run without her

lets just say her college applications/resume will look REALLY good...

Skye

she also took medical assistant but was less crazy about it than Sage

she just follows her friend's lead

she thinks the skills are useful but she doesn't see herself making it her career

but also I think she would play volleyball

she's a well rounded player but specializes most in defense

still, don't underestimate her bc this girl can SPIKE

Viper

she took every ap science class offered without taking the general ones first

she complains about getting any grade below an A...

"What are you talking about? That test was easy"

sorry not everyone is as smart as you Sabine 😑

she spends all her free time at chem tutoring (even though she doesn't need it)

Yoru

he thinks he looks cool and mysterious when he walks down the halls but he doesn't

everyone just thinks his mad all the time and stay out of his way 😭

randos try to pick fights with him bc he "looked at them wrong" (Yoru wins every time)

he's not exactly a 'quiet kid' but he does lay low when it comes to the social part of school

despite his 'bad boy' look, he has pretty good grades

he's also probably one of those guys that a handful of girls have a crush on but he has no idea

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deathbxnny · 1 year

Note

hiiii !! thank you so much for doing my doctor s/o request, i liked it sm but i'm too anxious to thank you in comments, haha.. (´･ᴗ･ ` )

so !! do you mind if i make another request ?? okay so! an artist s/o with hsr characters who likes to draw them. i'm thinking of a little cute scenario, like y'know, it's some important date for character and s/o and s/o gives them their sketchbook which filled with drawings of them?? as a present? like s/o loved to sketch them every chance they get (´• ω •`) i don't know if i explained my request well...

AH. could you include sampo, haha...please? i love this silly man sm ~

don't forget to stay hydrated!! eat and sleep well !!!! thank you again for doing my last request! (⌒▽⌒)♡

-----♡

A/N: Hello again, Anon! Thank you for the request! I find your ideas so cute! Also thank you for the kind reminders!<33

Featured characters: Sampo, Gepard, Jing Yuan

Content: Artist reader, established relationships, fluff, sfw

Reader has no set pronouns!

((Not fully proofread!))

-----♡

》Sampo Koski

He loves your art alot and supports you as much as he can. He likes watching you draw/paint too, mainly because he finds how focused and serious you look during it super cute. Is definitely the type to keep any drawing you give him, even a small doodle.

With that said, he notices whenever you draw him. He never tells you this however and just always conveniently stays in the same spot for you, even if that means that he can't move for a while. He doesn't mind though and finds it adorable that you want to draw him of all people.

It was Sampo's birthday, when he finally was able to catch a glimpse of the drawings you were making of him. He was grateful for your gift and promised to cherish it. It was the first time he ever looked so serious and vulnerable, which made you very happy.

He carries the notebook with him often now, so that whenever he misses you, he can just take a look at what your beautiful hands made for him and feel better.

-----♡

》Gepard Landau

He fully supports your Artist career and makes sure everyone in Belobog appreciates it too. He's just so unbelievably proud and always tells you how talented you are all the time. Definitely also spoils you with any art supplies you might need.

He never notices when you draw him, mainly because he's always busy with work during it or just very tired. Thankfully he doesn't move much when he's working on paperwork in his office or resting in the house, so that gives you plenty of opportunities to draw him in secret.

You gave him the little notebook full of drawings of himself on your anniversary as a couple. He was quite surprised at how full it was and even laughed lightly at how he just never noticed. He kisses you hands, thanking you deeply for this beautiful and meaningful gift.

He keeps the notebook with him whilst he's out on the front lines, mainly for when he misses you and to remind himself of what he can come home too soon.

-----♡

》Jing Yuan

Supports your passion with everything he has and shows it off to absolutely everyone. People just have to know how talented and great the general's s/o is afterall! He'll take care of any art supplies or other needs you have, he just finds how excited you get over new paint or pencils so cute.

It's alot harder to hide it from him, that you're drawing him, because he just notices everything about you. He finds it adorable and amusing, when you hide your notebook from him and tell him that he can't see it yet.

He's still pleasantly surprised, when you give him the notebook to him as a gift for a gift giving festival. Jing Yuan is extremely thankful and makes sure you know it with sweet praise and endearings.

He keeps the notebook at his desk in his office, so that he can look at it and think of you during longer work days. He perhaps also uses it to justify slacking off for a couple moments.

-----♡

A/N: Thank you again for this Anon! I hope you liked it!<33

#honkai star rail fanfic #honkai star rail x reader #honkai star rail x you #honkai star rail #hsr x reader #hsr sampo #hsr sampo x reader #hsr jing yuan #hsr jing yuan x reader #hsr gepard #hsr gepard x reader

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halfwit-halfblood · 1 year

Text

Safe — xavier thorpe

Part 1. More parts to come!

Pairings: Xavier Thorpe x reader (No use of Y/N, gender neutral) Summary: Xavier helps you deal with the stress of Parents Day Word count: 2k Warnings: Mentions of bad family relationships, anxiety

A/N: not sure how i feel about this so feedback is appreciated!! also i have no idea what a semester is or how long they are. don’t talk about it

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

“Here you go,” Xavier said, placing a steaming takeaway cup in front of you. “Extra sweet to counter how sour you are.”

You placed a mocking hand against your chest. “You always say the nicest things, Xav.” A slow grin took over his face as he sat opposite you in the library, placing his own cup to the side and pulling out his sketchbook.

Over the past month you had established a routine with each other that, in the beginning, had taken you by surprise; once classes were done for the day, every Tuesday and Wednesday you would meet by the school gates and amble down to Jericho to study and talk in the relative quiet of the town library over drinks from the Weathervane. Originally you had become friends thanks to the mere convenience of having the same class schedule, but over time something about you just clicked, and now these new habits fit you like a glove.

“That doesn’t look like Professor Crudwell’s thaumaturgy assignment.” You chastised.

“I’m not the one who needs to worry about my grade for it.” He hit back playfully.

“Low blow, Thorpe.” The chair creaked loudly as you moved to take a generous sip of your hot chocolate, earning you a glare from the librarian from across the room.

While you never wanted to bother the barista for extra syrup in your drink – a side effect of your scrupulous family who enforced the idea of never asking for anything more than you were given to the highest degree – Xavier had no issue with it and had recently taken to ordering for you to satisfy your extreme sweet tooth.

In this instance, he was right about the grade. Being of the psychic variety of outcast, Xavier had no problem with magical acts. For a fire sprite like yourself, wonderworking was a more arduous task that could often only be made better by the company that currently sat scribbling away opposite you.

“What are you working on?”

“A new mural.” He answered, pausing briefly to spin his sketchbook in your direction. “Miss Weems wanted a draft ready to show at Parents Day.”

The drink turned sour and heavy in your stomach. “Parents Day?” Nevermore had only been your home for one semester, having transferred at what would’ve been the start of your Junior year, and so a lot of the particulars about various Nevermore events and customs were foreign to you. Parents Day was, of course, a self-explanatory title, but you needed confirmation like a coffin needs a body.

Xavier paused and frowned at you. “Nobody told you about it?” You shook your head mutely. “Nevermore invites everyone’s families to campus for the weekend. Helps make the school look good, I guess. I never really got the point of it.” His voice was barely concealed resentment. While the details of the school itself often passed you by, the gossip never had. His father was an automatic taboo subject, which lent itself just fine to your friendship as you quite liked having the same restrictions applied to talk of your own family.

“When is it?”

“This weekend. They’ll all be here Saturday morning.” He said softly. As an artist he was used to noticing details. He could sense the tension in your voice, see the way this news pulled your expression taut and pale. Knuckles white against the curve of your cup. Something we’ve got in common, he thought sadly. “You alright?”

“I, um…” Anxiety swelled in your throat, forcing your words back into your chest where they jostled and multiplied. “I have to go.” Numbly you packed away your textbook and fled the library while Xavier called your name, pleading at you to wait. The door banged shut behind you like a gavel before he even had the chance to stand.

Was anything worse than feeling alone in a crowded room? You wondered. It was an anchor in your chest, a tight pinch across your skin like your heartache was too big to be contained under such fragile skin. Students rushed around the school gates as banners were erected and the first families started trickling their way in. All around you was a frenzied buzz of excitement and community and for a moment you felt suspended from your body, watching the scene from above; everyone moved in double time as the world carried on, and in amidst all the excitement there you stood, isolated.

You slunk through the shadows to the quiet areas of the school, letting the noise drift softly up through cracked open windows and wide balconies where it settled around you like a fog. Eventually you came to the quad balcony to find Miss Weems hosting the welcoming ceremony. You were keen not to be spotted by her or your parents if they had already arrived and watched the proceedings from one of the shadowed archways that led to the covered balcony.

Applause rung out as Miss Weems concluded her speech and families were free to enjoy the school in its entirety. “Hey stranger.” You jumped and spun around to source the voice, finding Xavier stood in the hallway behind you. “You been avoiding me?” He asked, hands in his pockets as he walked slowly past you to the balcony outside.

“No.” A single raised eyebrow was your response. “I promise.” You added sincerely. It was hard to blame him for the assumption while your phone burned a hole in your pocket, his unanswered texts piled in your inbox like a physical weight you felt keenly. The solitude you’d settled into the past few days was unpleasantly familiar. Once, it was a preference. But life at Nevermore had shifted your expectations of what peace was – where it was once silence and a locked door, it was now the boy in front of you: his laughter and the taste of chocolate on your tongue.

“So, you’ve been avoiding,” he gestured to the crowd gathered in the courtyard below. “everyone?”

“Trying to.” He nodded and returned to watching the hive of activity, tapping his fingers on the banister.

There was a magnet hooked in your stomach. Two opposite forces stood in front of you, and while Xavier’s mind wandered you tried to decide which was stronger. The repellent that was your family with their pursed mouths and disapproving eyes, or the attraction that was Xavier’s presence and the way words came easier around him.

For a moment, the attraction won. You crossed the distance to stand next to him stiffly, body coiled like prey alert to its predator awaiting the right moment to flee. The quad had become a chaotic mess of mismatched tables pulled out of classrooms and forgotten closets, voices yelling over one another as six months’ worth of news and gossip was relayed, the unsavoury stench of red meat and chilled blood was unavoidable as food was distributed, and – victoriously – there was no sight of your parents. You let out a shaky breath and let yourself relax a touch.

“What brand of shitty are your parents then?” Xavier asked after a few minutes of companionable silence.

“The kind that made me beg Miss Weems not to let them in here.” After you ran out on Xavier three days ago, you had fled straight to Miss Weems and pleaded for her to bar your parents from the school this weekend. She patiently explained that she had been in regular contact with your family ever since your induction at Nevermore and thought the upcoming weekend would be the perfect time to overcome the past together. But she didn’t know your parents – stubborn, spiteful. Not once had they backed down from a fight and you knew that this time would be no different. Fortunately – or unfortunately, you had yet to truly decide – it was a trait you had inherited.

For the past two days you had paced and panicked enough to wear a groove into your dorm floor, or so your roommate had complained, about what to do if they made an appearance. At the same time, your anxiety was working overtime thinking about what Xavier must’ve thought when you ran off so suddenly from the library and how best to explain it to him. Ultimately, the idea didn’t fill you with as much dread as you thought. At the very least you trusted him, but if you were being honest with yourself it was more like you wanted him to know you as much as you craved to know him.

Your eyes skimmed over the gathering once more and a prick of fear in the base of your spine began to steadily work itself upwards. “Looks like I failed.” You said with faux casualness, watching your parents and grandparents walk through the east entrance with undisguised disapproval.

You stepped away from the banister as quickly as possible until their heads dropped out of sight, seeking reassurance from the solidity of the stone wall against your back. Panic seized your chest as your mind relayed the last time you saw your family – an apoplectic argument, a fiery outburst. The smell of smoke and a deafening silence.

Distantly you registered Xavier calling your name. He leaned down and held your arms while you regulated your breathing, tracing soft circles against the fabric of your blazer. “I’m okay.” You said eventually.

“You don’t have to talk to them, you know. We can hide out in my art shed if you want? I promise they won’t find you.” He replied, trying to meet your eye. “I have snacks.” At that your mouth twitched into a half smile.

“Anything sweet?”

“As if you even have to ask.”

Once you nodded your approval Xavier wasted no time in leading you through empty hallways towards the back of the school where the forest sprawled out endlessly, happy to let you walk quietly while you came to terms with the fact your family actually showed up to the school they vilified so often.

As you were circling around the quad to reach the other side, footsteps echoed from an adjoining corridor that connected to the outdoor space. You both paused, wondering if you should hide or hurry past as their shadows grew longer in the early afternoon sunlight.

“Well with not a single text or call this entire semester, we’re expecting perfect grades across all subjects.” The voice was clipped and stern – all sharp edges and callous undertones. The past six months had done nothing to dull your memories of the countless times you’d gone to war with that condescending tone, letting your mother’s words sink under your skin like something black and rotten.

Xavier glanced between your frozen figure and the intersection where your family would soon appear. In seconds he had grabbed your wrist and pulled you into an alcove to hide in the shadows of one of the many alumni statues, his chest against your back and his palm against your mouth.

The sudden movement cast you from your memories and threw you back into the present moment, the warmth of his skin as he drew you further from your parents and into the darkness where they couldn’t find you. When they finally rounded the corner your breath hitched involuntarily, muffled by Xavier’s hand while his other came to rest on your shoulder; a comforting weight to keep you grounded.

“I assure you they’ve been doing their very best, it’s been a challenging year but –“ Miss Weems began.

Your father scoffed. “Challenging. Yeah, right. That’s an excuse for slacking off, believe me. Lazy. Disruptive. Demented – that’s all our child is.” You swallowed roughly as tears blinked their way free across your cheeks. The tight feeling that had plagued you over the summer returned in full force. I made one mistake! One! You wanted to scream at them. The fear and injustice pulsing through your veins left you shaking. Panic burned a path to your heart as your brain fought to maintain control, the absolute last thing you needed now was an unwarranted fire to prove their every criticism.

“I do hope we’ll be receiving an apology this weekend, Larissa. We were counting on you to teach some respect.”

“Perhaps we can all sit down for a chat in my office this afternoon? Once we’ve ah… located your bright little spark, that is.”

“I hope you’ve got extinguishers on hand, that’s all I say.” Ultimately, her final comment was one of the least openly malicious things your mother had said this past year, and yet the scar it left bled as strong and true as the rest. As their footsteps faded away the anxious energy fled your body with such a force that you slumped unceremoniously into Xavier. The hand resting on your shoulder reached across your chest and pulled you closer, the other leaving your mouth to do the same, cradling you within the bracket of his arms while your tears fell silently, and the footsteps faded into the distance.

The ocean rushed in your ears, urging you beneath the surface; his quiet reassurances anchored you to the shore.

They’re gone.

You’re safe.

I’m here.

I promise.

Safe. Safe. Safe.

Together you stood, bodies entwined, long after the corridor fell silent.

#xavier thorpe #xavier thorpe x reader #wednesday series #wednesday netflix #percy hynes white #xavier wednesday #xavier thorpe imagine #wednesday fanfic #xavier thorpe fanfic #xavier thorpe wednesday

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enbymetalhead · 1 month

Text

In the sky there's a crack torn open...

I had no idea where I was going with this when I started, I put it in my rough sketchbook rather than my neat one. I just had this line from Raven Child going round in my head, so drew the crack in the middle of the page and went from there. I also decided to use my colouring pencils for the first time in actual years.

I don't know if I'm finished with this, I might come back to it later. I like how it looks but it feels like something is missing. Nevertheless I'm still happy that I could bring the general idea to life, even with my limited skills

#art #moonglow #avantasia #raven child #the entity

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winterwhisperz-blog · 11 months

Note

Hey ☽ ! I loved reading your recent ask posts and wanted to know if you could write something with a MC (gn or male whatever makes you more comfortable) filling their sketchbook with drawings of Ais or Kuras (or both if you're inspired enough) and them reacting to it, please ?👉🏽👈🏽 Cute bonus if they draw small details only an attentive observer would notice hehe 👀

Thanks have great day ! >:)

EEEEEEE! Yes!! This is such a cute idea so tysm for the ask !! Also tysm im so happy you liked the other headcanons, and I hope you have a great day too !! <3

ALR

LES GET STARTED

Ais And Kuras Reacting to an Mc’s Sketches of them

Warnings: None 😙 —though Ais does get a lil flirty in his

Notes: Gn Mc, fluff, maybe OOC but imma try my best— also not proof-read

Ais

ALR ALR ALR SO

This one is kinda inspired by that one scene in across the spiderverse- because I’m also kinda obsessed with that movie—

Things have come up, things that have been taking you from Ais for longer than comfortable. You miss his laugh, smile, the way his eyes roam over yours and how he speaks and just generally -exists-

So one night, when you need comfort, you get out your sketchbook and pencil, and just start drawing. You don’t mean to draw him at first, but suddenly the lines start to sharpen into his features, his smile looking back at you through the paper

Suddenly your filling up pages of pages of just random Ais sketches. Him petting Princess, him lounging about his cave, you even chuckle to yourself when you draw the first time you ever saw him. (You casually name that one: The Bastard—lmao)

When you finally meet Ais again, and have gone back to your usual routine of hanging out—he’s settled nearby, a few smaller soulless nestled into his lap.

It’s definitely something you don’t want to forget—and thankfully, you’ve got your sketchbook with you.

As your sketching, you’re trying to be sneaky, keeping your glances to a minimum. But your eyes tend to linger, capturing the strands of black hair that shifts to white, the sharp red eyes, the -tired- red sharp eyes.

No one really notices the tiredness in them, but you do. Along with every thought and voice that parades endlessly behind their ruby curtains.

They’re kind, but haunted—exhausted.

But they always still light up when seeing you.

“Hmm, looks nice.”

You jump at the sound of his voice, his breath tickling your ear.

You instantly snap the book shut, but it’s too late. Ais is already smirking. His hands up in mock surrender as you shoot him a nasty, embarrassed glare.

“Easy, sparrow. Wasn’t going to judge.”

Your shoulders slowly relax, and since he’s being nice—nice enough—you eventually do decide to show him. A warmth of pride blooming in your chest at his expressions, both amazed, impressed, oddly enough— a bit shy.

Once he’s finished, he sets himself in front of you, relaxing his shoulders, tilting his chin in a cheeky grin. As he holds it—you finally realize he’s posing.

“looked like you enjoyed drawing me.” He explains once you raise a brow. You scoff, but it -is- a lovely pose. Would be a shame if it were wasted.

As you sketch, he lets out a breath. “You’re good at expressions,”

“Yours are easy to read.”

That earns a bit of a chuckle, before he raises a brow. An idea sparking in his gaze. Uh oh.

“Mm, yeah? Well—“ he shifts, eyes sliding up and down your figure before they latch unto your face. Taking in every last detail with some kind of burning. Like coals set aflame. His gaze makes you feel like glass, a thin white sheet that he looks straight through. Revealing things underneath. “—tell me what this one means.”

With that, heat goes to your cheeks, and a thin line of pencil scratches the paper as you toss it at his now, laughing face.

“Damn bastard.”

AAAAAAAAAAA

OKAY THAT WAS PROBABLY CRINGEY BUT THATS OKAY

NOW UNTO KURAS 😇

Kuras

OKAY OKAY OKAY OKAY SO SO SO SO SO

You two are on your daily stroll, the evening painting golds and bubblegum pinks across the usually dreary sky.

Birds, dusty grey and white flock toward him, some even landing on his head before he politely shoos them off. A smile lifting his lips as you snicker.

“They must mistake you for a tree.” You tease, earning a small chuckle.

Eventually, you near the area you always walk to—a small, old wooden bench that looks over the wastelands. Doesn’t make for the best scenery, but it’s that or the bustling city.

As you sit, you pull your art supplies from your bag, Kuras opening a book beside you.

ALSO HES WEARING HIS GLASSES AAAA

You start sketching the sky, a breeze tossing strands of your hair into your face and making the task rather difficult.

As you huff, Kuras glances your way, a smile playing at his lips as he gently tucks your hair behind your ear—fingers just barely brushing your jaw as he pulls away.

You can’t help but stare, a bit flustered at the gesture. And as he returns to his book, you watch as the golden light gleams over his features, turning his eyes into two, small suns.

A few birds have returned as well, perching either nearby, or on his shoulders.

An opportunity, an art piece you cannot miss.

You quickly ditch the sky drawing and start sketching Kuras instead. His towering form, the golden teardrop underneath his eye, the waves of his dark hair—and the way he holds himself, so regally, refined—but still somehow, with a small playful air that would go unnoticed by many.

But not unnoticed by you.

The sky darkens as you finish, and you hear Kuras close his book, slowly standing. A soft palm reaches your shoulder before freezing.

You look up to see Kuras, eyes wide with wonder as he slides his glasses back onto his nose. Taking a closer look.

Feeling both excited and a bit nervous, you clear your throat from probably an hour of not speaking. “Do you like it?”

He reaches for your sketchbook, “May I?”

When you nod, he gently takes it from your hands, looking over the picture like it were some complicated medical drawings.

You don’t have time to stop him as he then searches through the rest of the sketches, the wonder brightening up his expression—you can’t help but feel amused—it’s almost like he’s a child seeing snow for the first time. “You drew all of these?” He asks, hesitantly giving you the book back.

You nod, standing beside him.

“It’s…I’ve never seen anyone draw the world like you do.” He glances away before regaining himself. “Could you teach me?”

EEEEEEEE

yes Kuras I will teach you <33

ALR

I rlly hope you enjoyed that !! Sorry if they were OOC, I’ve been kinda scattered recently. But these were sO MUCH FUN

Tysm again for the ask 😭

And I hope you have an amazing day, find your favorite color in nature, smell your favorite flower, and enjoy the sunset !!

#touchstarved ais #touchstarved headcanons #touchstarved kuras #touchstarved game #thanks for the ask!#answered asks #touchstarved x reader #virtual novel

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moodybluezzz · 9 months

Text

Sleepover - Rohan Kishibe x Reader

[Content: SFW, fluff, gender neutral Y/N, warning for description of nightmares/night terrors, fear, and Kira being creepy]

[Word count: 2.7k]

How did I end up here? Standing on a mangaka's porch in the middle of the night?

You had lived in Morioh for your entire life - content with your peaceful, albeit lonely, routine. You found it surprisingly difficult to make friends in the small town, spending most of your time reading and drawing on your own instead. That is, until a year ago, when you crossed paths with a peculiar cast of characters and your life changed. You had recognized a few of the boys - Josuke, Okuyasu, and Koichi - since they attended school nearby and frequented many of the same shops and restaurants as you. However, your interest in the group spiked when you began hearing mutters of a killer on the loose, and strange beings known as "Stands" that held powers beyond your imagination. After running into the boys so many times, it began to feel as though fate was bringing you together somehow. One day you mustered the courage to start a conversation and managed to befriend the rowdy teens. From there you became part of the group, helping out however you could despite your lack of a Stand. As a result you also became familiar with Jotaro Kujo, a stoic man visiting Morioh to investigate the Stand Users, and Rohan Kishibe, a stubborn mangaka, each possessing Stands of their own and aiding in the mission.

From the start you couldn't help but find yourself drawn to Rohan, not only admiring his abilities but also seemingly tolerating his bold personality more than the rest of the group. Though you could admit he was a prick sometimes, you longed to get to know him even just a little more and felt comfortable around him nonetheless.

Now you were at Rohan's doorstep at 3am on a cold fall night, your arms wrapped tightly around yourself as you hoped that he heard your knocking. Ever since the fateful battle with Yoshikage Kira, you found yourself plagued with nightmares and a general nervousness about the town. It was as though Kira's evil spirit itself was haunting you. Tonight your nightmares were worse than usual, waking you terrified with no chance of falling back asleep. You hurried to the one person who was guaranteed to be awake at this hour - Rohan. Glancing nervously around the dark, you shuddered at the thought of some twisted Stand User leaping out of the darkness to torment you like Kira did to so many others. You knocked again, this time more frantic. Just as your mind began playing tricks on you in the darkness, Rohan opened the door. You leapt through the doorway, nearly into his arms, and he stepped back in surprise with an annoyed look.

"There must be a slumber party at my place tonight, did I miss the memo? Seriously, what are you doing, Y/N." He crossed his arms.

"I-I'm sorry, Rohan! It's just… I had a nightmare…"

"And you came here why?" Rohan stared at you skeptically.

"I thought… Maybe you would be able to help make sense of these dreams… You're into scary paranormal stuff, right?"

"Scary paranormal stuff. Right." He rolled his eyes. "Look, just close the door and come in." He sighed and started walking through his lavish living room and toward the kitchen. "Let's just sit down and chat." You followed carefully behind Rohan; All the lights were off due to the late hour. You had been here a few times before with the others but the mansion still never failed to impress you. You felt a brief wave of pity for Rohan, wondering if it ever got lonely living alone in such a big house.

At last you arrived at the kitchen, Rohan motioning for you to sit down at a candle-lit dining table. His sketchbook sat open in the flickering light - he must have been drawing before you arrived. He sat across from you, the warm light illuminating his face. He leaned down, resting his elbow on the table and his chin on his hand.

"So, tell me about these nightmares."

You did your best to describe the dreams, starting vaguely in worry that Rohan might not take you seriously. However, as you went on his expression changed to one of concern, inviting you to open up. You told him all about the horrors you faced at the hands of the Stand User in your dreams, the sleepless nights and the anxiety that washed over you as the sun set on Morioh each day. You stopped and sat in silence, shaken up by the mere memory of your nightmares. You fidgeted your hands nervously on the tabletop, before glancing up and meeting Rohan's deep green eyes. The candlelight made them shine brilliantly, and you couldn't help but get lost in them. You wondered what was going on in Rohan's mind as he stared into your soul. After a long moment you snapped out of it, averting your gaze and blushing.

"Stay here for the night." Rohan spoke firmly. "We can't have you running off in the middle of the night again. We have to get this fear out of you." You were shocked at his willingness to help you and ever-so-slightly excited. Rohan continued. "Your fear isn't irrational per say. We all remember what Yoshikage Kira did. But it's been a year since then and this paranoia can't go on. Maybe it'll help to get some rest knowing there's a Stand user in the house." He stood. "I'm going to make tea. If you want some, you can."

You watched as he swiftly brewed a small pot of tea, mesmerized by the way his body moved in the dim light. He was wearing a much more casual outfit than you were used to seeing, though it still reflected his extravagant fashion sense.

You wondered how many times he had done this, brewing tea for himself at some late hour to fuel his nighttime drawing sessions. Had he ever wished he had someone to share it with?

Rohan set two elegant teacups on the table and poured out some for each of you. "This will help you relax."

You waited for him to sit back down before taking a sip and sighing.

"This is the best tea I've ever had! Thank you, Rohan… Really…"

Rohan smirked. "It's just tea, nothing special." You were tempted to tell him it was special just for the fact he made it. However, you held back. You finished your tea quickly and Rohan set the dishes aside. "You should get to bed. I can see the exhaustion in your eyes."

You felt ever-so-slightly self conscious. "Where do you want me to sleep? I can take the couch if you'd like-"

"No, no. There's guest bedrooms upstairs. Let me show you the way."

You followed Rohan, hoping to finally enjoy a restful sleep. He opened a door just up the stairs and flicked on the light.

"Go on. Now get some sleep. My bedroom is right next door if you need to know where the bathroom is or something." You thanked him and he closed the door, leaving you alone. The room was decorated plainly yet elegantly, and the bed was made perfectly as though no one had ever slept in it. Maybe they hadn't. You shut off the light and plopped down on the mattress.

It's even softer than I expected!

Rohan was right - you must have really needed to catch up on rest. And you did feel safer knowing he was right next door. You fell asleep the moment your head hit the pillows.

…

Darkness.

A path lit only by flickering yellow streetlights.

Walking past rows of identical townhouses. This is Morioh.

Your footsteps echoing through the night.

Why are you here?

Footsteps that are not your own.

Running.

Faster footsteps. He's behind you.

Hands grabbing you from behind. Holding you back.

Can't turn around but you know who is there.

The figure of a creature emerging from the darkness ahead. A Stand.

Piercing pink eyes tearing into your soul. Gloved hands reaching out for you.

Kicking, screaming to no avail, screaming for Rohan. Help me, Rohan! He's got me!

He's a Killer Queen

Gunpowder, gelatine

Dynamite with a laser beam

Guaranteed to blow your mind.

…

"Y/N! Y/N, stop! You need to wake up!"

You finally came to, Rohan struggling to hold you still with a frustrated expression. You were kicking and screaming and begging Kira to let you go. You gradually processed what was happening and burst into tears, giving in and clinging to Rohan desperately. He was silent and still for a moment, before hesitantly resting his arms around you. You buried your face in his chest and gripped his back, not caring if he pushed you away and scolded you. However, Rohan stayed still and silent, taken aback by the sudden contact. He slowly wrapped his arms around you, searching for the right words.

"Just… breathe. You're safe, I promise." Your sobs gradually grew more sparse and eventually stopped altogether. You looked up at Rohan, your face hot and tear-stained. Something in his expression changed as he looked down at you.

Without a word he got up, grabbing your hand and guiding you off the bed and to your feet.

"Come to my room. Let me help you." You rubbed your eyes and followed him out of the room and into his own, looking over your shoulder into the darkness of the house every so often. You could just make out the shape of Rohan's bed in the darkness. He sat down near the pillows and patted the spot in front of him. Once you joined him, he reached out and put his hands on your trembling shoulders.

"I didn't want to have to jump to this, but let me use my Stand to help you. Heaven's Door can erase all of this." You shuddered. You were present when Rohan used his Stand in the past - a clever yet invasive power. He had noticed how much it intimidated you and avoided using it on you until now. You gulped.

"It will only take a moment, and when you open your eyes everything will be okay."

You scooted closer to Rohan and nodded, closing your eyes. He focused his gaze on you and whispered.

"Heaven's Door!"

Your consciousness faded as Rohan laid you down and opened your mind like a book. You felt… vulnerable. But at this point you didn't mind. As long as you were in Rohan's hands, everything was okay.

It felt like only an instant passed before you opened your eyes. Your mind felt unexplainably clearer. You looked up at Rohan, who was sitting beside you, his legs hanging off the side of the bed.

"...I made some edits. I didn't completely wipe your memory of the dreams - I didn't want you waking up wondering how you ended up in my bed. That would've been a pain to explain. But you won't be having any more. Okay?"

You nodded, relieved. It was as though your fear was erased - literally.

Rohan gazed off into the darkness for a long moment.

"...Why are you so intrigued by me?"

In your panic you had completely forgotten that Heaven's Door allowed Rohan to read all of your thoughts - and you had no doubt he did some snooping. You hesitated to answer. There was just something about Rohan - his attitude, his outfits, his talent, the way he directed his dry jokes at you when you were with the others because he seemed to know you'd get it the most. You knew there was more to him than the cold front he put up in public, and you wanted to find it. And you had to admit, he was attractive…

"Heh. I guess I didn't have to ask. I bet right now you're thinking of the very things I already saw." You scrambled for an excuse before Rohan reached down and turned your chin toward him. You blushed hard and stared into his eyes, their emerald hue just visible in the dark. He leaned down close.

"This is what you imagined I would do when we were in the kitchen, is it not?"

He so knew what he was doing to you, though he kept his poker face all the while. You couldn't deny you liked it deep down.

"Tell me." Rohan whispered firmly. You turned, facing away from him in embarrassment. You felt him lean over you, his face mere inches from yours.

"Your silence speaks volumes."

He pulled back and laid down on the other side of the large bed. Your heart raced as you debated whether to turn over and try to explain yourself or leave him be. You decided not to dig yourself into an even bigger hole, closing your eyes and focusing on getting back to sleep instead.

Just as you began to drift off, you felt a weight shift on the bed behind you, followed by a firm chest on your back and arms wrapping carefully around your body. You opened your eyes, wondering if you were dreaming.

"What are you doing, Rohan?" You mumbled tiredly.

The man was silent at first before leaning close to your ear. You could feel his warm breath on your neck - an indescribable sensation shooting down your body. You gasped quietly.

"I'm just going to protect you for the night. Don't get too excited." Rohan snuggled closer, spooning your whole body in his. "Besides, you wanted to be closer to me, right? Well now you are." He whispered smugly, a teasing tone in his voice.

You closed your eyes, taking in the feeling of Rohan's tall, slim body against yours.

You broke the silence. "There's just… Always been something that made me want to be special to you…"

Rohan was silent for a moment.

"You are special to me."

Your heart fluttered as you took in his words. Deep down you hoped he would say more, but he held back. Stubborn as always.

"...Goodnight, Y/N."

You fell asleep to the feeling of Rohan's hands running soothingly along your side, and up and down your arms. You had no dreams that night.

When you woke you were alone in the bed. You could hear the faint sound of dishes clinking in the kitchen downstairs. Rohan must have gotten up before you (unsurprisingly, the guy seemed to never sleep.) You laid there for a moment, enjoying the warm sunlight pouring through the windows and the lingering smell of Rohan's expensive cologne in the air. For a moment you had to ask yourself if last night was a dream. You sat up, realizing you hadn't brought a change of clothes.

Your eyes settled on Rohan's closet.

You opened the tall sliding doors to reveal a walk-in closet packed with designer clothes. You scanned through the shelves - some outfits you easily recognized, others you had never seen him wear at all. You settled on a comfy white sweater and pants to match. His clothes were ridiculously baggy on you due to your height difference, but they were certainly comfortable.

You headed downstairs to find Rohan finishing breakfast, two plates waiting on the table. He glanced up at the sound of your footsteps and his eyes widened.

"W-Where did you get those!?" You couldn't help but giggle at his surprised expression.

"I forgot to bring a change of clothes, I hoped you wouldn't mind," you said in a sweet but teasing tone. Rohan crossed his arms.

"Fine. Just sit down, your food is going to get cold." You swore you heard him mumble: "You're lucky you're cute."

A tense silence filled the room as you ate. How could you have gotten so up close and personal last night but feel so awkward now? Every once in a while Rohan stole a quick glance at you and your outfit; he must have thought you didn't notice but you most certainly did.

Finishing your food, you looked up at Rohan. "Thank you for helping me last night. Really. I slept better than I have in… Well… at least a year." Rohan kept his eyes on his plate, but you couldn't help but catch a blush cross his face.

"...Don't mention it."

…

Josuke and Okuyasu walked casually down the road as they headed home from school. Okuyasu perked up. "Hey, aren't we about to pass Rohan's house? I wonder what he's been up to."

Josuke frowned. "Oh yeah, you're right." I'd rather not know honestly... He quickened his steps before Okuyasu put a hand on his shoulder.

"Oi, Josuke! Isn't that Y/N over there?" Josuke looked up, spotting you walking home from Rohan's house.

Okuyasu squinted. "Since when did Y/N dress so fancy! Wait... Don't those clothes look familiar…?"

The two slowly turned to each other.

#jjba #jjba fanfic #jjba x reader #jojos bizarre adventure #rohan kishibe #rohan x reader #diamond is unbreakable

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