#but so many more parts just completely failed for me

[untilwedont]

Aren’t I The Greatest?

pairings; jj maybank x m!reader

genre; angst

unrequited love w/ JJ

~~~

why the hell did I just see full blown boobs in the gifs 💀

~~~

everyone told you JJ wasn’t as warm-hearted as he deemed to be. It should’ve been obvious based on all his past hookups- hookup with them then completely ghost them afterwards. But when he had confessed his feelings towards you, you thought things would be different. That’d he’d actually stick around— and he did.. for the most part.

He tried loving you. He wanted to start something new instead of just constant hookups, which is why he brought you into his life. Except, JJ was so obviously not cut out for a relationship..

for the first couple months, his love for you was through the roof. You couldn’t have been more happier..- until you weren’t. Over the past few months, his love for you had seemed to drain. That sparkle in his eye for you just seemingly went away, no matter how hard you tried to get it back.

—~

looking at yourself in the mirror, you put on a seductive outfit, in hopes of getting something out of JJ. You stared at yourself for a good couple of minutes, taking in your features— the dark bags slowly forming under your eyes from constantly staying up all night.

In these times, you felt the most lonely. The boy you once loved— and still do, was falling out of love with you.

with a small sigh, you walked out the bathroom, over to where JJ was, which happened to be the kitchen. “J, do you think this outfit looks nice on me?” You asked, a little hesitantly as you walked up to him. You tried being cute, but instead of a smile or a compliment, JJ eyed you up and down. “yeah, you look fine.” He said blankly, giving you what was barely a smile before walking off.

you frowned, looking down at the floor, biting your lip. God, all that work and yet he still couldn’t care about seeing you naked- or at least half naked. After a minute, you walked back to your shared bedroom, throwing off clothes you had on. Sitting on the edge of the bed, you ran your fingers along your face, up to your hair. Tears threatened to fall out as you stared down at the floor, wondering what went wrong.

—~

though, this was just one of many failed interactions you had with JJ..

—~

Your anniversary with JJ had been coming up. It was a year of being together, and though your guys’ relationship was rocky, you still made it an effort to get him a gift..- in hopes that he’d get you one as well.

you admired the ring you’d gotten JJ, both your initials carved into it. You covered the ring back up before heading off to find JJ. After a while of looking, you managed to find him near the beach alone, sitting down on the sand.

you hid his gift behind your back before walking up to him. “J?” You called out softly, seeing his soft blue eyes head to the sound of your voice. “oh, uh.. hey.” He said, getting up from the sand to face you. He stood there awkwardly and quietly, waiting for you to speak. After realizing he wasn’t gonna say anything you, you spoke up. “do.. do you know what day it is?” You asked, hopeful, but also had a doubtful feeling he’d know.

“erm.. monday..?” He asked, a bit confused and unsure. You frowned, but quickly smiled a little once more. “no, silly.. its our anniversary..! remember?” you replied, finally revealing the gift you had behind your back. “and, i got you a little gift.” you said, with a smile and hopeful eyes.

“o-oh.. uh, yeah.. yeah, I remember.” He said with a small cough, scratching the back of his neck. “well, here.. I got you a gift to show my love for you!” You said, holding the gift out, waiting for him to reach it. “oh.. uhm, thanks..” he said, giving you a half smile before taking the gift from your hands. You smiled with anticipation, waiting for him to open the gift. “I.. I hope you like it.” You said as he opened the gift, taking the ring out.

“yeah.. its uh.. its great, m/n.” he said, not bothering to put the ring on, instead storing it back where he grabbed it. “I uh.. didn’t get you anything.” He spoke. He fiddled a little with his hands, his demeanor off- like he didn’t want to be around you. “o-oh.. its okay!” You said, although you felt your heart dwell. “Being with you is a gift itself.. I really hope you know how much I love you, J..” You said, trying to keep the mood bright.

“yeah.. same here. Listen, i uh, gotta go. I’ll see you later, m/n.” He said rather quickly, giving you another half smile before walking away, not leaving you a chance to speak. You look at him as he walked away, your smile dropping as you tried to stop yourself from crying.

all your love and patience being wasted on a man who couldn’t bother to reciprocate those feelings. all your hardwork to try to keep the relationship going continues to be unappreciated. and yet, you continue to stay. In hopes that one day that spark he had for you will come back.

#male reader #gay #malereader #male!reader #malereaderinsert #jj maybank x male reader #outerbanks x male reader #jj maybanks #outerbanks #jj maybanks imagine

[frozenjokes]

Getting Comfortable

Grian got home late. He wasn’t sure exactly what time; after several incidents of dropping his phone while fifty feet in the air, he really tried not to check his phone unless in an emergency, but he didn’t feel the need regardless. Not in the night when everything was beautiful and quiet and it would be a waste to do anything but enjoy it.

By the time Grian landed at the apartment doorstep, time didn’t really matter. It was late o’ clock, the time of night where you step lightly, where you flinch at every heavy door that slams behind you a little too hard. Where you creep into your apartment like you don’t live there, but not anymore like you have anything to hide, because you don’t. Cub knows. He knows, and the aftermath wasn’t idyllic or pretty, but he knows, and for some reason, he’s still here. Well, maybe it was more accurate to say Grian was still here; Cub paid the brunt of rent and not much would change if Grian was gone.

Regardless, he wasn’t trying to wake Cub up. He shut the door as quietly as he could behind himself, curling his talons in to keep them from clicking loudly on the hardwood floor. He used to have slippers for exactly this reason, but given that he liked to keep his nails somewhat sharp.. It was enough to say Grian was tired of replacing them.

But just as he made it to his bedroom door he heard snoring; now, Cub snored occasionally, Grian knew that well enough, but this didn’t sound like Cub. It didn’t take an awake and alert mind to know who else was here.

It wasn’t a bad thing. It wasn’t. As had been established many many many times by now, Grian was fine with this and it wasn’t a problem and he didn’t give a damn what Cub did with who. It wasn’t any of his business. (It could be, if he wanted it to be.) It wasn’t any of his business.

So Grian let it go. He went into his room, shut the door, changed, cuddled up in the mess of blankets of his unmade bed, got back up, and snuck to Cub’s bedroom. He just wanted to see. He just wanted to look. He just wanted to see. It wasn’t a crime or anything. He would just crack open the door and be on his way. There weren’t any lights on in the house or anything- nothing to disturb either sleeping party! Hell, maybe Grian was making assumptions here. For all he knew, Scar could be on the floor!

Scar was not on the floor. He was never going to be on the floor. And that was fine! Grian didn’t care, he didn’t care how comfortable the two of them looked curled up together in bed. He didn’t care how secure Cub looked wrapped in Scar’s arms, held so close, close enough for Scar to snore into his back, probably drooling everywhere, Scar was definitely the kind of person who drooled everywhere-

“Grian.”

Ah. Perhaps Grian had failed to notice Cub’s eyes were open. In fairness it was dark.

“Come ‘ere.”

Ah. See. He could do that. One might even say that Grian would like to do that. That he would like nothing more than to meet him, hold his hand, crawl into bed and drift off to sleep, wings splayed at odd, uncomfortable angles. It would be perfect.

Grian shut the door.

But he had shut so many doors recently, hadn’t he? Scar.. Everything about Scar was just a fucking nightmare. He just- Grian just-

Missed Micah. He missed Micah. Micah who was a complete nutcase but embraced every part of it, Micah who baked and failed to keep him from eating raw cookie dough, Micah who could relax from time to time, watch a movie, fall asleep and snore, just like that. Micah who wasn’t perfect. Micah who was kind of an asshole, just like Grian. Micah whose flaws were written proudly on his skin, Micah who wore every unflattering personality trait right on his sleeve for everyone to see; ‘This is me! If you don’t like it then you can fuck right off!’ Micah, who was so damn cool.

And Scar who was not. God he was a pathetic fucking loser. God. Charming though. He was charming. He got Cub. He fucking got Grian! As a different guy! What the fuck!

(Maybe he should meet up with Mumbo sometime soon. Actually, Mumbo would probably be awake- Grian bet he could just call him! Hm. But Mumbo didn’t really like to talk on the phone. Especially not this late. Ah well.)

And the dumbest thing was that at the end of the day Grian still liked Scar. He did. He liked Scar. He had been so ready to like Scar.

ARGH

Grian kicked (pushed, gently) open the door, storming (walking quietly) inside and grabbing (with care) the bedsheets, tearing them up (lifting with some difficulty) to see a startled Cub (Grian couldn’t actually see his face in the dark) before pushing (accurate descriptor of the force he used here) himself under the covers and into Cub’s, and by extension Scar’s, arms.

Not comfortable. An undisclosed amount of wiggling later, it was a little better. A bit more wiggling sealed the deal. Not that Grian particularly liked having his wings hang off the side of the bed. Ideal situation here would be Grian laying face down on top of/between the two idiot losers (Cub gained this title after falling for Scar, an idiot loser thing to do), but this would work for tonight, especially since he was kind of the third wheel here, and he wasn’t about to wake Scar up to negotiate with him. Or Cub for that matter. Assuming Cub was asleep. Which he wasn’t. But Cub didn’t say anything either, didn’t move besides a bit of situating when Grian was getting comfortable.

But Grian could hear his heartbeat going at a mile a minute. He could feel the warmth through Cub’s night shirt, a flustered kind of heat, or maybe anxiety, like Cub wasn’t sure that if he moved that Grian wouldn’t scuttle right away. He wouldn’t. Grian would give in to this, at least for tonight. He was invited, afterall.

Eugh. Uncomfortable again. Just a little more maneuvering and he could make this work. Just a little more.

(Cub did not get any sleep that night and Grian was gone long before Scar got even close to waking, but it was no big deal. If Cub felt shitty enough he could just take a day off, and what Scar didn’t know and get subsequently overly, dangerously, unhandily excited about wouldn’t hurt him. Maybe in the future it would be a funny story they could tell between the three of them, or maybe Cub would take this moment to his grave. It didn’t really matter. Even if Grian wasn’t THE WORST to lay in bed with, Cub probably wouldn’t have slept anyway.)

this was the last part of the section of fic on ao3 but I’m thinking I’m not entirely happy on where this left off so might be another short bit . Eventually. I have the idea but the jimmy fic is more appealing right now.

#hermitcraft #hermitfic #gtws #goodtimeswithscar #grian #cubfan135 #cubfan #cubscarian #cubscarian hotguy au #hermitshipping #convexian

[eerna]

Wait okay omg I would love to hear your thoughts about the Broadway Mulan Rouge because I also have many feelings about it, most of them disappointment unfortunately lol. It could've been amazing!! But I just!! I don't feel it like I felt it in the movie idk man

Yeah, I am the same... I was SO hyped when I heard that they were turning it into a musical, but in retrospect it is pretty clear it was never gonna be what I wanted it to be :(

THE MUSIC. To me, MR! has this very recognizable music style where it is a jukebox musical, but every song is rewritten and its accompaniment changed so that they all fit together with the soundtrack of the film. It's percussion heavy, it's piano heavy, very jazzy/mid century film music? If you know the songs and try to sing along, you will fail, because they're just that different. That's why it doesn't suffer from the jukebox musical curse, in my opinion. However, BMR! totally removed those stylistic changes and turned them all into pretty standard musical theater arrangements of pop songs, and they all overstay their welcome because they aren't even shortened. NOW it suffers from the jukebox musical curse, bc how am I supposed to take's Christine's "I want" song seriously if it's FIREWORK by KATY PERRY. The worst example of this is what they did to El Tango de Roxanne, the most iconic part of the movie. In MR!, it's a mashup of Roxanne by The Police (representing the Argentinian's tale) and Tanguera by Mariano Mores with original lyrics (representing Christian's angst over Satine). Both songs take turns and overlap, pointing out the parallels, rising in intensity until everyone starts screaming and crying. Absolute insanity. I don't know a single person who wasn't floored by this song when they first saw the scene. In BMR!, it's Christian's solo, which means no parallels, most of the song is Roxanne and the iconic Tanguera melody shows up for like 40 seconds in the beginning and in the end just so they can say they put it into the show. There is no rising tension, there is no overlaps, no development, it's just. There. Like yes you put it into the show, but pretty much all of its symbolism and memorable aspects are gone. And the jukebox issues are stabbing you in the eyes. WHY IS CHRISTIAN SINGING ABOUT A WOMAN NAMED ROXANNE. WHO IS ROXANNE. IT MAKES SENSE IF ROXANNE IS THE NAME OF THE WOMAN FROM THE ARGENTINIAN'S STORY, BUT IT MAKES NO SENSE THAT CHRISTIAN IS THE ONE SINGING ABOUT HER. God.

THE WEIRDNESS. MR!'s aesthetic is super interesting to me because it represents its aura of sex appeal and hedonism through the lenses of grotesque. It would have been super easy to put the sex workers into sexy outfits and glam up their faces and make them sing seductive songs on beautiful stages, but no. Their outfits are eye stabbing, their makeup is garish, and they're screeching and throwing themselves around violently on stages that are dark, kitchy, claustrophobic, and loud, while the camera switches every 2 seconds and your brain feels like it's running on fumes. AND IT IS SO FUN. The club looks SO nasty and SO fun and I wanna go there. However, BMR! doesn't want to alienate anyone, so they did... Exactly what I said. Everyone is universally attractive, the stage is very clean-cut and open, the appeal of the club is played completely straight. This is best shown in the production Christian writes for the club. I know that the play from the movie is not very PC so I totally get why they would change some of it, but... They turned it from a vibrant, oversaturated opera with enormous musical numbers that lends itself perfectly to the big dramatic finale taking place during its premiere into a THREE CHARACTER CHAMBER DRAMA. Like who tf signed off on this change. WHO. LET ME SEE. WHO SAID THAT THE FINALE OF THE ENTIRE STORY WILL BE SET IN A STAGE IMITATION OF A LIVING ROOM. GOD I AM SO UPSET.

THE ROMANCE. MR! works because Christian is a naiive, innocent, idealistic poet with grand ideas of love. THAT'S why Satine falls for him - he is completely different from other men, and he makes her believe love can be more than what she'd been given throughout her life. Also, he's never been in love, so everything feels much more real and intense for him. In BMR! he is a completely different character, an overconfident seductive sexyman. Why would he be any different than all the other men in Satine's life??? Because he can write good??????? She has met many writers before, as we know, so what makes this guy different????? And not only are we less forgiving of his bad actions because he is older and experienced, HE IS SO MUCH WORSE IN THE SHOW. In MR! he sells his typerwriter to buy a ticket for Satine's premiere to go see her one last time and scream at how horrible she is - bad, and horrible to watch. In BMR!, he sells his typewriter to BUY A GUN and goes to Satine's premiere SO HE CAN KILL HER OR HIMSELF ONSTAGE - absolutely insane and horrible and how tf did we get here. AND LET ME REMIND YOU that this version of the story DOESN'T EVEN HAVE THE STORY CONTEXT OF EL TANGO DE ROXANNE, in which Roxanne's lover kills her, SO THEY REMOVED THE ONE BIT OF FORESHADOWING THAT COULD HAVE MADE IT MAKE SENSE.

THE REST OF THE WRITING. BMR! tried to give depth to side characters and their relationship with Satine, but that means they totally sidelined that Satine is a deeply unhappy person in a very unhealthy situation. They tried to make it look like she is choosing to marry the Duke (YEAH I FORGOT TO MENTION, THE DUKE IS A SEXY SEXY GUY WHO WANTS TO MARRY HER IN THIS VERSION) without any pressure put onto her by the club, but that makes it all so much more boring. MR! is far from a deep analysis of Satine's friendships, but I thought that the little bits and pieces we saw were delightfully complex. Satine is going to become the Duke's mistress because he will sponsor the club, and everyone employed there will live a better life. Ziegler is her father figure, but he is also her pimp who is pushing her into the relationship. He feels sorry for her and obviously cares for her outside of their business relationship, but he is so deep in the "underworld life" that he no longer sees a way out for anyone. But when it becomes apparent that Satine can no longer withstand the pressure, that the life they are all living is something she can't deal with, everyone just. Helps her out. They bail her out of the tower, they threaten the Duke, they stand with her, it's not verbal, it's all in the actions. It's why we can have a grand finale where everyone sings and dances while the Duke is crying in the background. BMR! has the girls telling Satine they care about her and her telling them she will protect them, but they are completely useless in the plot. No one comes for her in the tower, and the play is a THREE PERSON DRAMA so Christian is the only one there to stand with her in the end.

THE PLAY. I already said most of my issues with it but just to point it out once more. There is nothing more annoying to me than a piece of media that's about a piece of media being written, and then that piece of media ends up unseen. Throughout MR! we see the play being written, we see many scenes being added, hear a ton of songs from it, the issue of the plot resolution is a big dramatic point, and the finale of the movie is also the final scene from the play. In BMR! we see one scene, the show's end, that keeps being repeated over and over again.

SATINE'S WHITE DRESS. It deserved its own point bc what the hell is this.

This is already super long, but this show annoys me so much I could legit keep going lol. Everything is worse. Everything is toothless and clawless. It's such wasted potential.

#mountevey #eernask #mr liveblog #i need to turn it into a liveblog tag

[orcelito]

Nothing like a work week with no days off & a boss that's terrible at communication to make you reaaaaally really really wanna punch something

:)

#speculation nation #negative/ #i guess. #im just so fed up with the whole situation. today was supposed to be my day off but i worked 3.5hr anyways #'voluntarily' but ugh #at least i have basically two days off at the start of next week. so i just gotta get through two more days of this bullshit #i dont have money to spend on food but i really want to buy something #really want chipotle. but i dont want to go out of my way to get chipotle. #wish i had some Fucking money. but nooo everything has to be so fucking expensive #technically i have money but with rent approaching i Cannot spend it lol #im so fucking sick of my life. i want to be graduated from college and done with this shit already. #but unfortunately i have Perpetually Fucked Up Brain disease! #and also chronic fatigue that mixes terribly with having to work during school #i just do not have the privilege of being able to go to college without working at the same time #if i did then maybe id have been done with it Years ago lmao #and i cannot. i Cannot. do school full time while also working just under full time. #i tried it. many times. and i blundered it so many times. #and it made me. Without Fail. entirely and completely miserable. #part time school while working is the only way i can make this work. chipping away at collehe while trying to keep my head above water #but oh i am absolutely full of envy for people who can just focus on school. who dont have to work too. #must be fucking nice to have loaded parents and/or a properly working brain that lets you get shit like scholarships #must be soooooooo fucking nice. #lmfao i need to just go home. take a nice shower. maybe make some ramen. and then fucking chill. #if anyone tries to fucking bother me about work im going to Snap.

[tardis--dreams]

Wow it's great to imagine that one week from now I'll already have 4 hours of my 14 hour flight behind me ♡

#please deliver onto me the sweet relief of death i crave #but i started looking at it more positively #that's 14 hours of not having to do Anything #my usual lifestyle but no need to feel guilty #just sit around and watch my silly little shows or stare into the void without feeling bad for not living my life any better #i mean sure. it would be much more pleasant if i wasn't trapped with so many other people in a giant tube that i cannot get out of #and if i could walk around or lie down #but i guess this is fine too #korean air wasn't too uncomfortable on my flight here so i guess it won't be too bad #i just keep worrying about this for no reason #why worry about being sleep deprived and having to stay awake for ~40 hours if there's nothing i can do about it anyway #it's nothing i haven't done before either. I'm a pro at being utterly exhausted and traveling #i just really hope the flight isn't delayed and i can get a fucking train home once we've landed #(arguably the more concerning part. DB is already stressing me out and i can see a complete breakdown of the whole public transportation #system because of DB around christmas. but this is fine. no use being worried about it. if all else fails I'll spend the night at the #airport and try to book a bus on Saturday that gets me as close to my hometown as possible so my mother can pick me up somehow) #void screams

[shencomix]

Recently I decided to go to my local fighting game tournament.

Here's how it went.

I had been getting pretty good at Guilty Gear over the past few weeks, to the point where I was getting the input correctly for the Potemkin Buster 1 out of every 4 or 5 times I tried it. So I thought "I might not be the best yet, but, surely good enough for my local" -- and I decided to go.

It took place at a the comic & games store in the town center. The venue was full of people 10-15 years younger than me and even more drastically cooler. They all turned to glare at me as I walked through the door, but as I stood completely motionless like a gazelle hoping to blend into the grassland, their gazes slowly returned to each other and they continued to banter friendlily.

I sat down next to me first opponent, and reached out to shake their hand. They looked down at my hand, and then up at my eyes slowly.

"You're supposed to do that at the end of the match."

"Oh, s-sorry"

I got perfected twice and lost the match. At the end, I reached out again to shake their hand, but they just stood up and walked away.

Because I lost, I got moved down to the loser's bracket, which was literally below the main tournament because it took place in the basement of the comic shop. I could hear footsteps, cheering, and happy conversation in the floor above. Here in the loser's bracket though, the mood was a lot more somber.

My next opponent reminded me a little bit of me. They were equally nervous and disheveled looking. They said "Um, h-hello" and reached out their hand for a handshake as they saw me approaching. I said "you're s-supposed to do that at the end of the match." But as a look of deep sadness came over their face and they slowly put down their hand, I pulled them in for a hug.

I'm not sure why I did that.

I think that some part of me knew that, in this dark, dank, alien place, illuminated only by a single failing ceiling light and the neon glow of a few arcade machines, I had at last found a friend -- someone I understood, and who might understand me too.

They hugged back.

I lost that match by a very narrow margin, and as they jumped up and began dancing around and cheering ecstatically, I began to hate them. This was no friend of mine. A friend would not do this to me. After they were done dancing, they reached out to shake my hand. After a few seconds of pause, I stuck out my hand too, but didn't look at them and refused to close it around theirs as they grasped it. They shook my karate chop.

I thought that at that point, since I had lost and then lost in loser's bracket, I was free to go home. But one of the tournament organizers approached me and informed me that I was going down to sub-loser's bracket in the sub-basement of the store, and pointed me towards a descending staircase.

The people there were fewer, and it was darker. I could faintly hear sobbing in one of the corners, but as I went to investigate, another participant put his hand on my shoulder. He furrowed his brow in a look of pain and shook his head slowly.

"You can't do anything for them."

In sub-loser's bracket I went up against a man in a suit whose face was cloaked in shadow. He spammed May's dolphin move. I lost.

As I went to go back upstairs, one of the tournament organizers held out her palm to stop me, and pointed towards a staircase leading further down instead.

Going down through the levels, I lost to many interesting participants. One player played exclusively by bashing the controller against his face. One player was a mushroom with a few circuit cables clipped onto it, that I later learned was able to play because its bioelectrical signals got sent to a machine that interpreted them as fighting game inputs. One player didn't touch their controller at all, but instead just told me their life story, which was so tragic that I picked up their controller and won for them.

Finally, at the very bottom floor, where construction standards were long abandoned and the stairs and walls were just messily carved out of the earth's stone, I faced my final player. It was a small bit of metal framework, with a controller nestled in it. On it was a tiny piston that just pressed the jab button exactly once every second. I lost.

I hung my head for a moment, then said "close game" and stuck my hand out for a handshake, before remembering that I had played against a metal framework cube with a piston in it and retracting my hand slowly. Then I heard a slow clapping from the darkness.

"No neutral. No footsies."

Out of the darkness slowly walked a woman about my age, clad in a decorative poofy dress that looked more expensive than my entire life savings. She smiled at me warmly, continuing to clap slowly, but there was a hint of mischief in her eyes.

"No meter management. No mixups. No spacing. No learning. No strategy…

…You're perfect."

"Wh-what?"

"You're perfect. I absolutely must have you."

"Have me for…um…for what…"

(Her eyes went wide as her smile grew more manic.)

"WHY, MY MORON FAILSON HAREM OF COURSE."

"Um, I-I"

"Tell me, what do you do for a living? Let me guess, you work at a fast food restaurant? Or, retail?"

"No, I'm a--I'm a comic artist."

"HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!! Oh my god, you are PERFECT. What will it take to get you."

"To-to ge--"

"You would be well taken care of, of course. 3 Michelin star dining for every meal. Only the finest, softest sweatpants and sweatshirts, pre-stained with whatever flavor of Takis your little heart desires. You would have access to the entire mansion except for the main foyer when I'm in business calls, and you could make all the comics and play all the fighting games you want."

"I'm uh--"

I knew that I had to think fast here.

"I'm already i-in a moron failson harem."

"Oh, DARN IT!! TELL ME, WHO IS IT??? WHO GOT YOU??"

"I-I think I'm not allowed to s-sa--"

She stomped her foot petulantly, her shoe clacking against the stone floor.

"WAS IT SHUXUAN?? IT'S ALWAYS SHUXUAN HOGGING ALL OF THE GOOD ONES."

"I-I'm sorry," I blurted out, shuffling along the wall to make a wide radius around her and then running up the staircase.

As I got home and began making my standard dinner of Trader Joe's microwave falafel, I thought about her offer. Maybe I should have taken her up on it after all. A 3 Michelin star meal right now wouldn't be so bad.

Then I hopped on Guilty Gear and lost 22 matches in a row.

#shen comix

[lowkeyren]

reverse dating tropes w hsr men!

in which — what the title suggests / those classic fanfic tropes but with a twist

featuring — boothill, jing yuan, blade (separately) x gn!reader

✧.* — wc: total 1.5k, used up half my brain for this (the other half is for pt2 w aven sunday geppie!!), lovesick boothill + clingy jy + jealous blade fr, anyway pls enjoy! reblogs r appreciated <3

gepard aven sunday vers here!

boothill ꩜ .ᐟ

love at many sights with boothill whose memory card was tinkered with, and every time you meet, he thinks he's seeing you for the first time, so he falls for you over and over again. 

when boothill returned from a dangerous mission, it was evident that he had endured significant damage. his once sleek and polished exterior was now marred by dents and scratches, and his mechanical limbs were either partially missing or severely damaged. the exposed wiring, usually neatly tucked away beneath scraps of metals, now hung in tangled strands, sparking occasionally with residual energy.

he looked barely salvageable. it's safe to say that the mechanics had a hell of a time fixing him.

though they were skilled enough to piece him back together, his memory card wasn’t as lucky. a tinkering in his system left him incapable of recalling or retaining information in his synthetic brain, temporarily —leaving the mechanics scrambling to find a solution.

weeks later, you find yourself walking down the familiar corridors of the laboratory where your favourite cyborg is being held for reparation.

boothill’s eyes immediately land on yours when you enter the lab. “well ain’t this a surprise! haven’t seen ya in a good long while.” boothill drawls, tipping his hat your way, his voice carrying a metallic twang. 

"i heard you took a bit of a tumble, figured someone should come make sure you didn’t lose all your screws." you shrug nonchalantly, a smirk playing on your lips.

boothill's eyes flicker for a moment, taking in the curve forming on your lips. he thinks you’re adorable with that infectious smile of yours. 

“heh, nothin’ bad, just had a r-r-run in with some cuties" he says, failing to hide the glitch that caused his voice to stutter. (and that damn synesthesia beacon! he swears he’ll get it fixed this time around…)

“guess you took more than a tumble huh...” you lean casually against the workbench, the sterile scent of machinery and the hum of various devices filled the air; your gaze sweeps over the freshly repaired parts of boothill's metallic frame, “anyway, glad to see that you’re mostly fine now." 

“aww! do ya care ‘bout me?” he teases, his grin widening, revealing his pointy teeth peeking out mischievously. you don’t reply, your eyes glinting with the faintest hint of amusement dancing in them.

"boothill, we go through this every time, your memory card's still damaged. you forget things sometimes, so for the 5th time this week, yes i do care about you.”

boothill's expression shifts, a mixture of realization and sheepishness crossing his features. "right, right," he murmurs, scratching the back of his head with his metallic hand. "sorry 'bout that, sugar. guess i just keep forgettin'."

you chuckle and shake your head, finding the situation amusing. he feels like he might overheat from the sheer warmth radiating from your smile.

“you’re beautiful, date me.” (he didn’t mean to blurt that outloud)

you raise your eyebrows at the sudden compliment, “why thank you,” a surprised laugh escapes your lips.

“—and we’re already dating, silly.”

a shower of sparks erupts from his circuits, you can particularly hear the fans inside him sputter and whir. you rush to his side, concern etched on your face.

“wh- are you okay?! you’re short circuiting again!”

and this happens every time his memory lapses. you offer an apology to the mechanic on the next shift for the extra work required to fix yet another damaged wire after your visits. perhaps they should ban you from getting too close to boothill, lest he completely breaks down again like that one time where you told him, yes you actually kissed before.

jing yuan ୭ ˚.

"secret relationship" with jing yuan but he is completely unaware of how his public displays of affection towards you keep revealing the supposed secrecy of your relationship.

on the rare case that the general is found in his office, you are there too, beside him.

“pleeeease? just one kiss, really really miss you, darling”

“no jing yuan, not now…”

he wraps his arms around you as he leans in, caging you from the back. he rests his chin on your shoulder, “then how about a kiss on the cheeks?” he murmurs in your ear. you try to push him away, but he just chuckles softly against your neck, his arms still secure around you.

“no, and get off me before someone sees!” you protest, feeling your face flush from the close proximity, and the tightening of his arms suggests that he has no intention of releasing you just yet.

this stubborn man… you swear you’re gonna burst a blood vessel someday.

as if to echo your exasperation; he nuzzles his head into the crook of your neck, peppering it with nibbles and gentle kisses. jing yuan certainly knows how to test your limits, yet his affectionate gestures never fail to chip away at your resolve.

suddenly, a series of loud knocks come from the door, you freeze, and immediately attempt to wiggle your way out of his grasp. but he remains unfazed, his hold on you firm, and seemingly unbothered by the interruption.

the door bursts open, “general! there’s a situation at starskiff ha—ven...”  yanqing trails off as his eyes widen at your position. the room falls into a momentary silence as yanqing's gaze shifts between you and his general, his expression reflecting a blend of shock and embarrassment.

clearing his throat awkwardly, yanqing stammers, "i-im sorry for interrupting... i’ll t-take my leave now!” with a hurried nod, he practically sprints out of the room.

oh bless that kid’s poor eyes… 

you shoot a glare at jing yuan from the corner of your eyes, you just know that he has a shit eating grin on his face right now. nowadays, it’s probably common knowledge that the general’s most treasured person is you, evidently shown by how he latches himself onto you every time you’re within his vicinity. you wouldn’t be surprised if the entirety of xianzhou knows about your supposed “secret” relationship.

“so… can i have my kiss now?” 

aeons, he’s insufferable. (you love him tho!!!!!)

blade ؛ ଓ

"fake dating" with blade but you are actually dating —somehow everyone is convinced you aren't.

“blink twice if you need help.” march whispers-shout; dan heng leans against the doorway, blocking the way into your room, nods in agreement.

“this is absurd… i’m alright guys, really!” you try to reassure your friends, frustration edging into your voice. though no matter how many times you insist that no blade isn't holding you hostage and that you are indeed in a relationship with him, they seem convinced otherwise, somehow deducing that you're not able to speak freely.

you sigh in resignation, knowing that they aren’t going to relent anytime soon, and with blade idling in your room, you can't afford to keep him waiting any longer. “dan heng please, let me through, he’s been waiting for me for the past 10 minutes now…”

“good, let him wait.” dan heng responds curtly. (what a guy)

march takes hold of your hands, “do you owe the stellaron hunters something, and him out of everyone?! he looks scary…and totally not your type!” 

“not their type?” a low voice rings out from behind dan heng, the three of you turn immediately and see blade looming at your doorway, his arms crossed over his chest. 

“stellaron hunter. stay back.” dan heng furrows his eyebrows, his stance defensive as he pulls out his weapon, positioning himself to block you and march. sensing the growing tension, you step forward, reaching out to gently grasp at dan heng’s shoulder. 

(blade’s expression darkens at your hand resting on him)

“it’s okay dan heng, he means no harm.” dan heng hesitates, his grip on his weapon remains tight, but he doesn't move to strike. so you slowly move between him and blade, “see? i’m fine… he’s not gonna hurt me.” you smile reassuringly at your friends. 

just then, as if to further aggravate dan heng, blade settles his hand on your waist. dan heng’s hand is visibly twitching now. “what? can’t i touch what’s mine?”

dan heng’s eyes narrow, “...we still don’t believe you, leave now. before it’s too late.”

before you can interject, blade grabs your chin, silencing any words of protest with a sudden kiss. caught off guard, your eyes widen as the unexpected gesture leaves you momentarily stunned. but you soon reciprocate his kiss, his intensity drawing you in.

(march quickly covers her eyes with her hands)

“there. now leave us alone.” and with that, he pulls you into your room, slamming the door shut behind, pinning you against it. 

it’s just the both of you now, finally.

“did you really have to touch him.” his voice tinged with possessiveness. “blade, he would’ve hurt you, i didn’t mean—” he shuts you up with another kiss, more desperate this time, welp guess you’re stuck with him for the night.

though your friends might not believe that a person like you would “be in cahoots” with someone as dangerous as him; convincing them otherwise is a task for another time. tonight, he wants your attention focused solely on him, and him only.

✧.*

masterlist gepard aven sunday vers here!

#✧renwrites! #—stellaronhvnters. #honkai star rail #honkai star rail x reader #hsr fanfic #hsr fluff #hsr scenarios #hsr imagines #hsr x reader #hsr x you #honkai star rail x you #star rail x reader #honkai starrail x reader #blade x you #blade x y/n #blade x reader #hsr blade #blade fanfic #jing yuan x you #jing yuan x y/n #jing yuan x reader #hsr jing yuan #jing yuan #boothill x you #boothill x y/n #boothill x reader #boothill #boothill fanfic

[taibhsearachd]

...ngl, the fact that ADD and ADHD got condensed into ADHD when the hyperactivity specifically is part of the reason so many girls were simply not diagnosed drives me up the wall.

It's not that the whole name isn't bullshit, because it is. It describes the way people outside of our experience perceive us, as opposed to the difficulties that are part of our lived experience. Even from an outside standpoint, it's recognizable that "deficit" is not always the issue with our attention... but that's beside the point.

When psychiatrists noticed that ADD and ADHD were basically the same thing... they chose to favor the typical male presentation in the literal naming of the condition, and in doing so condemned a generation of girls (and other afab people) to suffer through being told they're so smart, they just don't apply themselves enough, that it's a personal failing they can't regularly turn in homework, that they're lazy for waiting until the last minute to work on an assignment... because those girls weren't hyperactive. Those girls just kind of drifted off and daydreamed in classes. Those girls doodled or wrote stories all through their school years, and functioned measurably worse when a teacher noticed they were doing that and tried to stop them. Those girls are now so many of my adult friends who are now being diagnosed with ADHD as adults, because the hyperactive part of the diagnosis almost solely applies to children (CHILDREN, when, I might note, this is a lifelong condition) who are socialized male.

We need a whole other name for the condition, because attention deficit is not our problem at all. But my god, the hyperactivity part actually ruined my life for so many years, because I had no way to explain to my dad why it physically hurt me to be bored, why I had to read or write or doodle in class in order to keep my focus, why I excelled in tests but failed at homework so my grades sucked because of that. No one even considered I might have ADHD, all through my childhood, but earlier this year I had the opportunity to go through all my grade school reports, and they could not be MORE CLEARLY talking about a child with ADHD. "Pleasure to have in class", "assignments not complete", "does not pay attention in class", "Birdie is a highly intelligent child with specific and unique needs" (I would LOVE more follow-up on that one, from third grade, do not have it). But I was a quiet and reserved child, so obviously I couldn't have ADHD.

I'm legitimately angry about it in retrospect. I went off my Adderall for a couple months recently, as an adult who only started taking Adderall as an adult, and it completely fucked up my ability to function. For years I was just out there as a teenager struggling through high school and college entirely unmedicated because as a child I was too withdrawn to be diagnosed. Fucking wild and also infuriating.

#adhd #neurodivergency

[tasteleeknow]

handled.

minors dni. minho x fem!reader. hands on necks (not exactly choking but choking adjacent). dirty talk. slightly rough piv. soft!dom minho.

It's not what you expect, the first time someone reaches out to wrap their fingers around your throat. It's during a lesson in self-defence, part of a compulsory skill. You flinch away as their fingertips graze your skin, scrunching your shoulders at the unnatural feeling. It's not a neutral act, a simple experience of skin on skin.

There's something deep down, an instinct designed to make the feeling of another person's hands around your neck inherently discomforting.

It takes many attempts for you to build a tolerance to it, the anxious feeling never settling completely despite your ability to hold still.

It was hard to imagine how the act could ever elicit anything other than that deep, instinctual urge to squirm away.

Until him.

His fingers flex as he tugs the black glove down his wrist a little further. It's a vital part of his costume as far as your concerned, a last minute addition ties up his all-black theme perfectly.

"Are you having fun?" you question, back pressed against a wall in a dark corner of the room.

The New Year was around the corner, the costume party in full swing around you. It'd taken a doe eyed look and a soft kiss to his neck to convince your boyfriend to join you.

He offers you a small lopsided smile, the delicate lip ring balanced prettily on his lower lip. "Mm," he hums with a small nod.

You tug him a little closer, "You sure? I know it's a little more crowded than I—"

"I'm fine," he says, the bare fingers of his glove free hand stroking gently over your wrist. "I'm all good."

If you were being totally honest with yourself, a (not so small) part of you hope he'd ask to leave. Getting him dressed up like this was the best part of the entire night, you'd decided. Now, you'd very much rather be at home taking the costume off him than stand around in a crowd of drunk partygoers.

The lip ring presses into his plush lip a little as he nibbles at it for a moment. You could leave the accessories on him. The ring, the silver necklace hanging around his collar—just long enough to tickle your chin if he was above you... and then there was the glove. Your eyes drop involuntarily to the hand in question.

"What about you?" Minho asks, tugging your eyes back to his.

"Hm?"

"Having fun?"

You blink.

He smiles, keenly aware of your propensity to drift elsewhere. "What you thinking about?" he asks. You would have answered him. You were too far into your relationship to be timid about such things. But then... then he reaches up with that hand... the dark, smooth fabric cool against your skin as he tilts your chin up a little. "Talk to me," he encourages gently.

Oh, he knows. Of course, he knows.

"Do you like my costume?"

His eyes drop down your body quickly. "Mm," he hums. "Very pretty."

"I like yours too."

He fails to suppress an amused, knowing smile. "Yeah?" His hand drifts from your chin along your jaw, coming to rest just below your ear. It allows his gloved thumb to play with your lobe a little as he steps into you a little more. "What do you like about it?"

"Fishing for compliments?"

"You seem desperate to offer them."

You frown, "No."

"No?" he questions, stepping even closer. He's pressed against you now, warm and dark—a barrier between you and the rest of the room. "My sweet girl wouldn't lie to me." He leans over you, lips brushing your jawline. "Would she?" he adds with a whisper. His breath tickles, hot against your sensitive neck.

You realise your error then. It was too late. The time had passed for you to drag him home and tear the dark clothes from him in the privacy of your shared apartment.

It was happening here.

Your eyes flick quickly across the room before you're grabbing his wrist and tugging him along with you, dodging drunk friends and acquaintances as you beeline for the hallway door.

Minho chuckles behind you, letting you tug him along without resistance.

You'd let you of tomorrow contemplate the decisions you make next. When you find each room taken, occupied by a couple or a group of intoxicated friends, you tug open the laundry door and slam it behind you both. There's a small lock on the door handle. You twist it.

"You like it that much, then?" Minho says from behind you.

He's leaning against the washing machine when you turn, arms crossed—sleeves rolled to his elbows.

You take in a few shallow breaths before he's stepping towards you and lifting you off your feet. It shouldn't be as easy as it is for him to lift you on top of the dryer. He settles between your legs, hands gliding up and down your thighs a few times.

His dark hair has loosened a little over the evening, the hairspray you'd used to keep it in place off his forehead giving into the humidity and copious tousles by distracted fingers. There's a lock hanging just over one of his eyes.

You reach up to brush it aside delicately.

"I lied," Minho whispers, seemingly prompted out of silence by your action. "When I said it's pretty..." he thumbs at the hem of your dress where he's slipped it up your thigh. "...I lied." His fingers brush your skin on one thigh, the fabric of his glove is cold against the other. "Pretty isn't right," he continues. "It makes me want to hold you down... sink into you..." His gloved hand snakes up your side slowly, coming to rest at the base of your neck. His fingers are splayed out across your collarbones, just below the point that would normally make you itch to squirm away.

"Min?"

His eyes flick up from your neck. His fingers twitch against you. "Mm," he hums. It's a sweet sound, in total contrast to the way he looks at you. Like he wants to tear you apart. You find you like the idea. You also find... that you wish his fingers would inch up just a little.

It's not a thought you dwell on. Instead you reach up slowly, like he might spook, and wrap your fingers around his wrist.. then slowly... gently... you guide his hand up to your throat. His eyes stay fixed on yours; his fingers ghost light on your skin.

"Don't look at me like that," he says as your fingers squeeze his wrist. "All fucking sweet like you don't want me to—"

"Please," you interrupt.

He leans forward with a groan, lips pressing to the side of your neck. He squeezes slightly at the movement. It's enough to have you dropping your head back.

It's different. It's so different to how it'd been with a stranger, with someone other than him. This makes you want to crawl under his skin, beg him to hold you and consume you—to take you. His. His. His.

"Minho," you gasp as his lips part and suck at your neck, his wet tongue poking out to lave at the marks he leaves as he goes.

His hand stays at your neck as he works, a comforting and steady pressure. He's got you, it says.

A tiny clink breaks you from your trance. His lip ring is gone when he pulls back, fallen into the dark and bouncing off things around you as it goes. You could not care less. You tug him back towards you, hands at the back of his neck to guide him. His lips are wet and hot against yours, moving with a laziness that did not at all align with upbeat music and countdown starting outside.

His tongue slips out to meet yours, his body falling over you a little in a desperate attempt to get closer. 8...7...6... the partygoers chant. Your fingers grasp at his hair, tugging a little. He whines. 3...2... You could be anywhere... you ponder as the cheers start and the new year begins. You could be anywhere and anytime, and all that would matter would be whether he was there with you.

His breath comes out in deep gasps when you finally part. It's a brief reprieve. He's on you in the next second, tugging your hips towards his and burying himself inside you. It's your turn to attach yourself to his neck, kissing and biting your way through his sharp drives into you. The dryer bangs against the wall behind you with each one.

"This what you wanted?" he gasps as you fall back on your hands. His hands grasp your hips. One warm. One cold. "Hm?"

His lips glisten with spit, a mixture of each of you. You're about to reach towards him again, desperate to taste him, when he releases one hand from your hip.

It's the bare hand this time, that wraps around your neck. It's worse—better. His fingers twitch each time he pumps into you. Your pulse flutters against them. You can feel it.

Then he pauses, tugs you flush against him—buried deep. "My sweet girl," he says. He presses his fingers into your skin at each side of your neck. It doesn't cut off your breath, instead, your cunt clenches around him—your high taking you off guard. It's a rush, a heaviness in your head that seems to match perfectly with the heavy, fullness of his cock buried deep.

There's something deep down, an instinct designed to make the feeling of another person's hands around your neck inherently discomforting. And then... there's this.

#stray kids smut #lee know smut #lee know x reader #lee know fanfic #kpop smut #kpop imagines #skz smut #stray kids imagine #stray kids imagines #kpop scenarios #stray kids scenarios #stray kids x reader #skz x reader #skz imagines #stray kids fanfic #skz scenarios

[inkskinned]

it is totally okay to be hurt and tired and fed up with the american schooling system but i need you to understand that we need to be better about loudly and routinely defending public education.

yes, many teachers suck, many schools utterly suck. i also got bullied and was absolutely not given the right support for my needs. i am not defending public education because it was kind to me. i am defending it because it needs to exist.

right-wing republicans do not want an educated population. they want kids to be homeschooled or in private school. there is a huge religious undertone to this.

the most common argument is that despite high costs, the "result" is not "good" enough. they point to failing schools as proof that public education is just never going to work out. there will be arguments made here that you actually agree with: that teachers can be bullies, that we taught online for 2 years and still charged the same amount of tuition, that we have no recourse for students to actually have agency or a voice, and that schools are now unsafe for kids due to risk of illness and gun violence.

these are all placing the blame in a fraudulent way, one intended to get your parents to homeschool you. the less kids in a school, the less federally-awarded funding for that school, the less any school succeeds. they will not mention the fact it is their legislation that takes away important funding opportunities, that teachers are living at or below the poverty line, that buildings are not kept up to code, that administration is overpaid and forces specific curriculums, that corporations like (my personal enemy) Pearson Education control certain classroom goals because teachers can't afford other options. they pretend to be ignorant of the gun violence and say "oh just get a gun" - but these are the same people who will be sending their child to a private school with a bulletproof backpack. they don't care if your kid dies, though. they "don't believe" in covid, but they did get their kid vaccinated, because of course they did.

it is a closed loop. conservative parents hear the fearmongering and remove children from the system. frequently these parents are also deeply religious. the kids are raised without access to other media & learn to parrot their parents. you have now created a new generation of conservatives. additionally, one of the parents/caregivers must stay home and homeschool the children, usually for free. i will give you 1 guess which parent tends to stay home to homeschool the children. these parents are encouraged to have many, many children. those children are most likely not getting access to safe sex ed.

we might laugh at fox news suggesting teachers are forcing children to use kitty litter but: first of all, there is kitty litter in the classroom. it's part of an emergency kit in case children are locked in due to a shooter. so that's fucking dystopian, and the fact they've completely reimagined the scenario to somehow make the teachers look bad when it's instead a fucking huge symbol of our failure as a country to protect our children.... it feels a little intentional.

secondly: don't just dismiss the situation. because, yeah, obviously, no teacher is encouraging kids to be a catboy. but the actual undertone that fox news is trying to sew is an outright distrust of teachers and of public education. they rely on the dehumanization of trans people as a common touchstone to hide the fact they're pushing two agendas at once. (which is ironic. because the thing they accuse teachers of. is pushing. an agenda.)

whenever someone tells you they want you to read less, you should be suspicious of that. when someone tries to separate you and your education, you should be suspicious of that. i don't even like incel rhetoric nor would i want my kids exposed to it - but i would not take away my child's (age-appropriate) access to the internet. i would just provide more educational materials, not less. the difference here is that i believe we can resolve ignorance with knowledge; whereas conservatives believe that ignorance is bliss.

they misappropriate funding and demonize teachers. they pull the same trick each time - the same thing we are seeing with anti-trans rhetoric. they do not want you to have access to safe sex ed, so they act horrified, claim sex ed teaches you how to thrust deep, claim that we have no idea what "age-appropriate" means. since the mid-nineties, the united states has spent at least 2 billion dollars on abstinence-only education, even though to quote the above link: "a preponderance of studies has found no effect of abstinence education at reducing adolescent pregnancy". conservatives want you to think less of any person struggling with addiction so they can continue their racist "war on drugs", so they spend up to $750 million dollars a year on the DARE program which has absolutely no effect. acting like teachers "must" be "grooming" children is just the same thing - so they can demand that funding either goes to their causes or the funding doesn't "exist" ("i'm not paying for our kids to learn that thing!")

and they want you to feel uncaring about this. they are aware that you will hate some parts of your school experience. pretty much everyone does. they want to lean into the parts that you hate so that you don't put up a fight about it when they take it away for not being "good enough."

i know i maybe sound like a conspiracy theorist. but truly. truly. it is beneficial for conservatives to reduce your faith in the american public schooling system.

one of the explicitly stated campaign promises of the conservative party: to axe the Department of Education in 2024.

i know we are all tired and burnt out and there is so much else wrong with their entire platform. but maybe just - pay attention to this one.

#i can't believe i have to say this #the conservative party is legit like ''is it anything good? okay we hate it.'' #''lets kill lgbt people and ummmmm school children shouldnt be able to read they should be at home watching jordan peterson :)" #the fact that it's like all related is. wild. #like it's wild bc if u start being like. actually making it impossible to afford housing is part of how they keep the nuclear family..... #it's just like lines connecting to lines. EXCEPT ITS OBVIOUS? #what's wild to me about most conspiracy theorists is that they're like . ohhhh the govt is hiding shit!!!!!!! they don't want u to know!!! #and im like. this old man literally got up on stage and said he hates public education and will let our kids die before taking away ak-47s #and ppl are like: lol thats just bob's sense of humor he didn't mean it literally uwu

[prettyboykatsuki]

— ❈ YOU'RE SO PRETTY, BABY.

▸ prompt ; companions and their responses to being called pretty boy / pretty girl.

▸ a/n ; bit of a generic post im sorry forreal. while i was originally just going to write this for astarion i had ideas for. all the other companions.

most of the characters have a reader w a specific class or background, all varied! also spoilers for gale, shadowheart, karlach, and lae'zel.

reader / tav is always gender neutral!

▸ wc ; about 4.5k, about 700+ words per companion.

ft. astarion, wyll, gale, shadowheart, karlach, lae'zel

no minthara or halsin bc i could not bring myself to write it. but maybe later if enough people ask lol.

❈ ASTARION ;

Astarion tries his very best to find your affection for him trite, even when he knows it doesn't feel that way. It's an instinct for him, one you'll simply have to make peace with you if you're really planning on tailing him to the end of the world.

Truth be told though, he likes your generally affectionate nature. He hasn't reached a point he can admit this so openly, but the comfortable and easy way you reach for him is nice. He likes how your hands seem to stretch for him, the way you cling to his spine when you sleep in his tent and the likes.

And while he is not stranger to hypocrisy, he thinks it'd be amiss to try and bar you from calling him any pet names when he calls you so many. He's got quite a few handy. Darling is a favorite, followed by dear, and sometimes my love when he can muster up the courage to mean it instead of saying it like he's trying to perform.

You like to call Astarion by his name though, most often. He isn't exactly sure why you're so fond of it, and truthfully he's done little to consider his own name. You say it wonderfully though, tasteful and loving and soft.

Sometimes you gasp it in offense or horror or shock, other times in pleasure. Sometimes you whimper it in your sleep, groping around until your hands fist in the material of his shirt and you drag him back to you.

In any case, he's used to hearing his name. So hearing you utter the words pretty boy to him, he can't help but be a little shocked.

You're a little tipsy. A hard, arduous journey of fighting githyanki soldiers has taken a terrible toll on your normal inhibitions. You're quite flushed while you're drunk, and all the same sitting in his lap like you've not a care in the world.

Astarion doesn't mind holding you. In fact, he's thinking of all the terribly teasing things he can say to you come morning. So far, you've done nothing but mumble. It's a sudden movement, your hands clasped around his face.

"Feeling forward are we darling?" He says, like second nature. It's so reactionary it's banal, though he does have some enthusiasm since the flirtation is directed at you. Instead of your usual giggling, you stare at him with your lips parted.

"I suppose I am pretty boy," You reply, a completely foreign confidence in your voice that stops him dead in his tracks. Underneath the thick layer of flirtation is sincerity so unmistakable it almost proves to be too much "Could I ask you to keep me company?"

Astarion is, eternally grateful about the fact you don't get much more than that out of you. He spends the entire night thinking about it. You're certainly not the first to call him pretty, and that particular phrasing has been thrown to him more than once.

Yet it rings a little differently. The way you said it so tenderly, your hands stroking the nape of his neck and cupping his face. Well, it's not nothing. He can't decide if he hates it or not until the next morning comes.

Your eyes flutter open as light pours through the open part of his tent. You reach over to him with a deep sigh, engaging in some quiet morning affection when you repeat yesterdays sentiment.

"Good morning, my very pretty boy," You say - and this time Astarion is sure whatever he is feeling he has not ever felt previously "Sorry for the antics last night."

"So your memory hasn't failed you. Good to know." Astarion says back. You laugh lightly. "Your charming little pet name worried me quite a bit."

"Nothing to worry about my love." You say, warm and nuzzling into his neck likely to cool yourself from over-heating "I really do find you very pretty."

He can't help the feeling that floods his sense. He likes it even though he feels a little clingy, but perhaps there's no need to admit that.

"Oh, really, darling? How sweet you are. Tell me again, then. Just for kicks this time."

❈ WYLL ;

it's a matter of getting used to it for Wyll.

For the first month of your adventuring together, pretty boy, had been a somewhat condescending substitute for his name. Among other ones, like daddy's boy and prince. None of the pet names held any real affection.

You liked getting under his skin, after all.

You didn't get on at first, not for a long while. You're a rogue, a ratty street urchin turned mercenary who'd spent your youth climbing through the soil and mud of the Lower City's underbelly. Your words verbatim, not his. At first, your resentment for him caught him off guard, especially because Wyll prefers to keep the peace and get along with everyone. But, he had a difficult time understanding you, even with his people skills

Eventually it clicked that your resentment was less towards him, and more towards what he represents. You're a Baldurian, but one abandoned by the city and it's people. What else could the Ravengards represent if not the future you never had a chance to look towards.

It was easier after that. And Wyll had promised to himself to observe you closer. In that, he found to like you a great deal.

He's fond of pet names in general, but more fond of you lately. At the beginning of your adventure, it was a little difficult to get accustomed to your... roughness. You lack delicacy, but you're not exactly silver tongued.

Yet, you're not as cruel as you make yourself out to be. Contrarily, while you've traveled together, Wyll bore witness to only gentleness. Nothing more. The words you spoke about only doing things for coin had been clearly disproved by your countless acts of charity. Especially gentle and kind to children, and especially unforgiving to the rich and unhelpful.

Once he got used to it, there was something kind of...sweet about it. To see you say one thing and do another had it's own novelty that Wyll grew fond of you.

It was the night of tiefling party that roused his feelings. That night, he'd watched you play with the tiefling children all night, teaching them tricks of the trade.

And you'd started falling for him, too, judging by the way your usual snark was nowhere to be found.

Especially vivid is the change in your tone when you call him the same way you did before.

"We'll take a short rest for you, pretty boy." Your voice murmurs, looking carefully over his wounds while place down your own weapons "Get your spells back. Organize our things in the mean time."

He gives you look, examining your own worry before his smile stretches into one of fondness. It doesn't bother him at all, not anymore. No, lately - it sounds rather fond, and each time Wyll hears it, it does something for ego.

"No need for the concern, though I am appreciative," He says, not bothering to mask the smug quality in his voice at your change. He delights in it a little, admittedly . "I'll be alright soon enough."

You don't seem to notice, too busy wiping your blade of fresh blood, metal shiny as moonlight. "And there's no need for your heroism, Blade of Frontiers. Have some discernment about time and place."

You look up at him with your brows furrowed, and Wyll can barely help himself. "Are you worried I'll lose what's left in my appearances? I'm just telling you there's no need to trouble yourself over it."

It takes you a while to register to his words, but when it finally does - your eyes blow wide. The look of embarrassment on your face is well worth it.

"I thought you hated when I called you that." You say coolly.

"It's not so bad," He says back tenderly, staring at you "At least not anymore."

You pout a little. Wyll fights some unspoken urge to kiss you. A little longer.

"I prefer when you're acting oblivious,"

"Sorry to disappoint."

He lets his head lay on the wall behind him - reaching a hand for yours instead, trying to rest up as promised. He sees you smiling from the corner of his eye and affirms it to himself. You squeeze, soft, but otherwise say nothing about it.

Yes, lately, nothing you say could get under his skin. Even when you so obviously try.

❈ GALE ;

Gale is always the poet, never the muse.

He thought highly of his relationship with Mystra, and in many ways still does. He loved her. This much is true. He can't say for any certainty if she had loved him just as much, or at all. He wasn't the first mortal, and would hardly be the last.

But he loved her, enough to write about her and wax poetic about all that he'd lost.

When Gale examines any of his past relationship, he realizes this is some kind of pattern. Gale is good at being loving, but he does not know for certain if any of them loved him back. Or if he was loved in the way he loves - if it was anything near close. Gale had thought, at one point, it was just matter of destiny. Gale is after all, a man who bleeds with all he has.

He can't blame anyone for loving him less than when he is categorically too much. He thought that way for a long time, destined himself to never find love again or beg for Mystra's forgiveness for some new found purpose.

When you came into his life, he hadn't been sure what would come of your relationship. Certainly a brain parasite would make camp a difficult place for romance, but the two of you managed against all odds. Among all the things that Gale finds astonishing about your relationship - it's your affection for him that catches him the most off-guard.

It's a little sad, he can admit. But it's true. When you speak to Gale, your voice is always soft. It's never demanding. Before, always, there had been some kind of expectation. Gale had to be a certain way, to pour himself into someone else for the sake of it being returned.He loved. Surely he loved.

But now, lately, you love him back. Overwhelmingly. The easiness of your love makes him feel a little... spoiled. Which is embarrassing, at the stage of life he's in. He finds the whole thing tips him over the edge. The heat creeping up his neck every time he remembers. Your hand brushing against the back of his neck, cupping his face so gently.

Gale, perhaps unsurprisingly, is fond of your various pet names. All of them sound good. Make him feel important and desired. You like to call him a bookworm, sometimes you call him baby (which he really likes much more than he is ever willing to admit), and other times you settle on saying my love.

Pretty boy is new. Pretty boy is different, and makes heat crawl up the back of Gale's neck like a smitten school boy.

It has a special effect on Gale.

In between classes, spoken with your hands cupping his face as he leans on his desk. The sunlight is pouring through the large paneled windows, casting a warmth on your expression. Gale is sat on his desk, making you eye-level.

"I'm glad you've come to see me," Gale says to you first, breaking a period of comfortable silence. You're a busy person, given all the heroics. Gale finds it troublesome, despite the fact you've moved with him to Waterdeep. Your reputation precedes you "It's been ages,"

"Of course I'd come to see you, pretty boy," You hum, thumb brushing under his cheek - carefully drawing a line "You're very healing to look at."

The effect is rather immediate. As soon as the words leave your lips, spoken to him so lovingly - he unlocks a part of himself he always seems to forget about. Forgets himself in a fundamental way, the flurry of heat and euphoric sensation of adoration washing over him like water.

He gives you a look, and you laugh - pressing your thumb to his lower lip as you lean in for a kiss. "Stop pouting, will you?"

"I'm doing nothing of the sort," He insists, kissing you despite him. You laugh into, warm and bubbly. For a minute, he remembers all he might've lost had he done what Mystra told him.

He's glad he's alive. To feel you.

"You very much are," You reply back, once you've managed to pull away from each other "Don't be so surprised. You've always been very pretty to me."

He blushes again, deeper, and closes his eyes.

❈ SHADOWHEART ;

You don't often communicate your feelings to Shadowheart through words.

You're something of a stoic. Of the few people in Shadowheart's past who remain by her side, many of them communicate about how surprised they are about your partnership. Shadowheart is known to be a little snarky, witty. She used to be very prickly, at the start of your adventure together - so everyone questions how you were able to win her heart.

Truthfully, Shadowheart didn't know what to make of your personality at first. There's a silence to you. Maybe she should expect this of paladin so loyal. A Paladin of Torm, the unswerving enemy of injustice and corruption. You've always been a devout person, putting action and justice over everything. She hated it at first, a natural response for a Sharran, she figures.

Once she'd left it all behind, she could no longer use it as an excuse.

Truth be told, Shadowheart had always liked that aspect of you. Your devotion spoke to something greater than your oath or even your god. You had simply believed in the world, and inadvertently in her. You saved her from herself, her parents from her fate, and then some.

Your devotion to her as a lover isn't something so different. She often thinks you would swear yourself to her if you could. For Shadowheart, your affection is akin to worship. Every morning, the animals are tended and the flower bed is damp. You wake her mother up without a start, remind her of where she is without making her feel ashamed. You're good to her father, talk to him of worldly politics at the dinner table.

She has no complaints to make about you. Your love for her is tangible, something she can reach out and touch with her fingers.

She's unused to hearing your affections, though. Unused to hearing the words.

You lay together in the darkness. You're alone tonight, the entire cabin empty. Her mother and father have gone together on an outing together, after you accompanied them into the city. You've finally returned, put the horses up in the stable, and have to come to her side.

Shadowheart likes to lay in your arms. She lets herself curl into your weight, inhales the scent of your skin - earthy and rich as you let your arm fold around her waist. She lays ontop of you today, her whole body on yours like a blanket.

She looks up at you, her her tied loosely. She can practically feel how glowy her own expression is as she examines you - sees her reflection in your irises.

You let your hand lay over her back, reaching up underneath her nightwear to lay touch her skin. She gives you a look - her smile small, sincere. Your own expression is tired from travel, but fond. You insisted on taking her parents instead of letting them go alone.

She loves you more than she cares to admit.

"You're staring." She comments blithely "See something you like?"

Normally you'd flush a little at this, silent as you kiss her forehead or cheek. This time though, you use your fingers to brush the stray hairs from her face and nod.

"Yes, pretty girl," You hum, nonchalantly. Sagely. "I really do,"

She's so caught off guard, she can't help but gape. She lifts herself slightly to stare at you in shock.

"I've never heard you talk like that. Not once while we've been together. I mean.. you've called me beautiful but," Shadowheart stumbles, a fluttery feeling in her stomach she'd rather ignore "But it's never like that,"

"I think it more often that I say it,"

"And you always think to call me that?"

"Like I said, often," You look over he carefully, before your lips pull into an easy smile "You're pretty to the point I want to tell you all the time,"

Shadowheart is scarcely embarrassed by anything. She's a practiced woman at this point in her life. It's almost juvenile the way the words effect her. It's you saying it that makes all the difference. The way you've said it that makes her squirm. She lets out a little puff of air, silent as you laugh.

"Pretty girl," You repeat, warm and gentle and laced with exhaustion "You're the most beautiful girl I've ever met."

Shadowheart tucks her face into your neck, voice as soft a murmur as the sound of her own heart rings in her ears.

"Don't make a habit of talking like that," She huffs "I already know, but I suppose it doesn't hurt to hear."

You smile brightly. "I'm glad,"

❈ KARLACH ;

Karlach adores you, utterly and completely.

She's a little caught off-guard by it. Just when she'd convinced herself she couldn't love you more, you surprise her all over again. She'd probably harbored some sort of affection for you from the start of your adventure together, when you'd gone to bat for her and make sure Wyll didn't take her head as a trophy.

Since then, though - on your journey together, she'd taken careful notice of you. And gods, she likes you. You're very different she must admit. Where Karlach is strong and fiery, you're cool and calculated. She figured that's just what magic users are like, but Gale is pretty keen on correcting this assumption. You're a sorcerer, specifically, means the whole magic thing is in your composition and not your study.

Which explained why your head isn't the books like their local wizard. She does find you to be rather charming. You're good at talking your way in and out of almost everything, and you can outwit even the cleverest people on camp. You'd think it'd make you... annoying. Or cruel. And sure, you're a little calculating - but mostly, you're sweet.

Karlach's really never met anyone like you before. Her companionship is a little limited because before the Blood Wars, she was a rag-tag kid in the street of the city. But you grew up in a noble house, learned to charm and finesse your way through everything. You know how to read situations before they've even happened.

And you always explain them to her afterwards.

You make Karlach nervous, strangely. Which is wild! When it comes to socializing, she can get along with almost anyone. You though, you always see right through her. You know when she's using her own personality as a shield, and you always know just when to intervene. Or when to say nothing, and just let her sit with you.

The day she blew up at you, after defeating Gortash - you'd handled it better than she could've hoped. You were comforting, and kind, and let her feel it out without making her feel bad. With you, she felt hopeful despite knowing that the end was probably going to come for her eventually.

With you, she thinks she could endure even the end of the world.

You're in the city now, no longer sleeping in the woods. When everyone else has gone to bed, Karlach finds you in the study, a room attached to the main living quarters.

She knocks before entering. Your voice is soft as you tell her to come in. Dressed in your comfy night clothes, your hair damp from washing up. You're bent over the desk with a furrow in your brow that Karlach finds sweet.

"Hey, baby," She asks, her heart thumping soft "Hope I'm not disturbin' your research."

"Of course not," You reply back, encouraging her towards you "I'm actually due a break."

Wordlessly, you sit up from your chair, pointing for Karlach to sit. She follows through, a little confused as to what you're doing before you plop yourself back into her lap. She throws her head back in laughter.

"Don't know what I was expecting there," She giggles, arm curling around your waist "All cozy?"

"Mm," You melt yourself into her embrace, turning to look at her. Your eyes are soft, free hand cupping her face "I'm cozy. What's keeping you up, pretty girl?"

The words catch her off guard completely, her engine flaring from the heat.

"Shit, what's with that?" She glances down at you, smiling like the cheeky fucker you are "I can't get any redder, you know? It's making my engine burn."

"You like it, no?" Your voice is smooth, smug in a way that gets her hot "My pretty girl,"

Karlach stares at you as you say it. Traces the curve of your lips, the slight arch of your brow. Asses the weight and warmth of you as you lay your legs over her lap and feels her body start to react. She didn't think it was possible to feel so complete by someone, even among the impending doom at the end of the world.

With you it fades away to nothing. Permission to want freely, she had no idea she had wanted that so bad. She had no idea she could want more when you'd already given her so much.

It's nice to be greedy. A little greed is fine, after everything.

"If you keep talking to me like that, we're going to do a lot more than just sitting, you know?" She tells you seriously.

You smile and laugh but don't deny her "Only if you say please,"

❈ LAE'ZEL ;

The Githyanki do not fall in love.

It's a fact of the culture, a mark of their honor. Love is for the soft, tender fleshed species of the material planes. It does not suit warriors, not the ruthless githyanki who spend their entire lives training the sword and learning magic. Love had always been a flimsy concept to Lae'zel. To the point she'd never thought about it or cared too. For the gith, there is only pleasure and carnal desire. The foolishness of longing can only be harbored in the lesser existence of the outer-world. The world outside of her creche.

For a long time, this was true for Lae'zel. She had never intended her time in the material plane to weaken her in the ways in which it did. Or that the experience of a ghaik parasite trapped behind her eyes would will her into cooperation with lesser beings. In many ways egregious, unfathomable. In trying to rid herself of one parasite, she'd found herself another one - more intolerable and more consuming than the first.

You. What a foreign and remarkable bond. From the beginning she had told you the truth, that the gith do not love and she would not be able to love you. Though she could admit passion, admit admiration for your courage, admit possession - she could not admit love. She knew nothing of it.

Over the course of your journey, you'd managed to prove her wrong. Slowly stripped bare of the identity she'd made her life around, you stripped Lae'zel down to her soul. Her most honored solider, and most formidable ally. When the time came, you'd told her to do what she must, to liberate her people. That you'd be there when she returned.

That you'd wait for her.

Months apart with few visits in between meant that each time Lae'zel sees you must make every minute count. Enjoying your body and indulging in carnal pleasures is only so much of that. What Lae'zel looks forward too most, she must admit, is the gentleness of your touch whenever she comes back to Fae'run.

Soft warm whispers among the indulgent plush of bed sheets and candles. A room that smells like lavender and oak, prayer books and scripture littered on the desk. A cleric of Bahamut, and a soul strong as steel.

But this, her head resting in your lap as you stroke her hair so carefully, is what she's missed most of all. No doubt she's going soft.

"Chk. You are smitten by the text in front of you as if you have forgotten of my return,"

You look down at Lae-zel with a laugh, carefully placing said book down on the bedside table. The voice you speak with her is different from her own. Tender fleshed even in your speech, you let her curl herself into you.

A vulnerable position, open to whatever may come.

"I'm sorry, pretty girl," You hum. The words practically startle her "I don't mean to neglect you. It was an interesting passage."

"Pretty...It is true among the githyanki, I am among the finest of their ranks," She replies, turning herself towards you - getting comfortable "Yet still, something stirs."

"Are you embarrassed?" You reply, delighted as her frown deepens. Before she has a chance to argue with you, you lean down to press your lips against hers briefly "How sweet of you."

"I do not get embarrassed," She insists, scowling as you begin to giggle at her "It was merely unexpected."

"You're beautiful to me, Lae'zel." You hum, stroking her cheek gently as she continues to lay herself across. Your eyes are tender and lidded. That look of obsession she recalled from the months prior returned in full, and no longer hidden. Unlike your other mortal companions, or the pale elf - there is nothing hidden in your words. No agenda "More beautiful than anyone else. At least to me. Getting to look at you so closely is a gift."

She softens, her hand gripping yours resting on her chest

"When it is over," She says seriously, a solemness to her voice "I will return to you. This I swear. Without you, the liberation of my people would be no less then a dream,"

You return her smile in kind.

"My pretty, wonderful girl," You hum. She loves you. She thinks she understands it now "I know you'll return to me, nailo. You always keep your promises."

"Yes," She says, an unfamiliar emotion overwhelming her "I will not forsake all we have promised."

The affection in your voice shakes Lae'zel to her core. Initial abrasion fades only into warmth. It's not so bad to hear, even if it is tender fleshed.

▸ a/n ; the word reader uses for lae'zel is elvish for swift winds!! reader is meant to be sort of a book worm so you do not need to picture them as a elf and more of a linguist.

this is the most substantial thing i've written in the last few weeks so commentary is very appreciated. i'd be willing to do a minthara and halsin addition to this eventually if anyone is interested!!

anyways, baldurs gate companions i love u. reblogs so appreciated !

#bg3 x reader #baldurs gate 3 x reader #astarion x reader #wyll x reader #gale x reader #shadowheart x reader #karlach x reader #lae'zel x reader #writing tag #waah. i love them all

[shujohajohaminnie]

Be louder for me

Genre: Smut

Content: 18+ Minors dni

Word Count: 1714

Summary: During a late night at the studio, things get heated, will the rest of the members find out. 

A/N: I read through it but there could be a couple of things I missed

Afab!reader, Profanity, Pet names, Raw Sex, Public sex, Cunnilingus

It was late, you were starting to doze off. You were hoping that Chan meant it when he said five minutes. He had already told both Han and Changbin to go back to the dorm, it was extremely late. Even for them. “Channie how much longer” You whined failing to hold your head in your hands. He had practiced his part of the song so many times you couldn’t keep track. “Alright… I’m ready to record now” he nodded with a smile. “How long is that gonna take” You groaned pushing the red button to connect you to the sound booth. “About ten minutes… then we can go home” “Promise?” “No” “Ugh” You placed your head on the table trying to gather the strength. “Okay to record press the green button on the board”.You lifted your head looking at the board in front of you. What Chris failed to mention was just how many green buttons there were on this board. “This one?” “No the one on the top” “This one?” “To the left” “This one?” “Okay down one” “This one?” “Yup that's the one baby” He smiled sending you a thumbs up. How could you stay mad at him, he was just so cute. 

“Cut” You pressed the blue button to stop the recording. “Scrap it” he waved off, running his hands over his face. You turned to the computer, taking the clip he just recorded and deleting it. He was frustrated, and rightfully so, this just wasn’t working the way he wanted it to. It was nothing you were doing, but him. He couldn’t hit the note like he thought he could. He was coming in too late and cutting off too early.  “Honey you’re tired we should get you to bed” You yawned taking a sip of the energy drink you were sharing with Chan. It wasn’t doing its job, because with every sip you were feeling more and more tired. “I know” he groaned throwing his head back” “Let me try one more time” He groaned rubbing his face awake. You pressed the record button then pressed the voice button. “You want more monster?” “Yeah let me see if it’ll work” You nodded, grabbing the can and walking over to the booth. You opened the door and handed it to Chan. He reached, but not for the beverage. He took your wrist pulling you closer. Planting a kiss on your lips. “Chris” You gasped, you almost dropped the drink. The last time someone spilled anything in the booth you didn’t hear the end of it from-. “Let's put this down… before we get yelled at by Seungmin again” He whispered, taking the can from your hand and placing it on the side table that was in the booth. He turned back to you, placing a hand on your waist and pushing you against the wall. His plush lips placing butterfly kisses on your jawline, and down to your neck. 

“Chris… what if someone hears us” “It’s soundproof baby… we could be as loud as we want” He smirked kneeling in front of you. Maybe it was the tiredness talking but you really wanted to test that theory. “What if someone see’s us” “Its four in the morning honey… who in their right minds is going to be here at this time” He was right. You really couldn’t be as loud as you wanted to in your daily lives. No with the boys constantly at the dorm, and your elderly neighbors complaining about everything you did back in your apartment. He pulled both your sweatpants and underwear down slowly. Taking them completely off and helping your leg onto his shoulder. Oh were you excited for him to hear just how good he made you feel. He kissed up your thigh closer and closer to you sopping pussy. How could you not be horny. Producer Chan was your weakness. You loved the way he spoke when he was in producer mode. So professional, so concentrated, so hot. He placed a single kiss on your clit before he began to suck and swirl his tongue around it. 

“Oh my-” You moaned, grabbing his hair. Hearing your filthy moans turning him on quicker than anything. He’s been wanting to hear you so badly lately, already getting a little taste after one evening that he got the dorm for himself. He wanted more, he needed more.  "That noise...keep making it." He encouraged bringing his fingers to your entrance not wasting any time to sink them into you. “Oh fuck” You moaned loudly throwing your head back against the soundproof wall. “Fuck CHRIS”. You only ever called him Chris on two separate occasions one, when you were angry with him or wanted him to understand how serious you were about a situation. Two, when you both were having sex and he was making you feel really good. You call him Chan and Channie, all day it wasn’t anything special anymore. Someone could say it could be confusing for him when you do it, but it wasn’t because it was all in the way you said it. One way you would say it in a stern serious voice in the other- “Chris” You moaned loudly tightening around his fingers as you felt that all so familiar feeling in your lower stomach. 

“You gonna cum baby? You want to cum on daddy’s face?” He groaned roughly on your pussy, you bit you lip and nodded, he couldn’t see you. Not with his head buried into your heat, oh but he knew you. “Use your words my pretty girl” “Yes” You moaned out loudly tugging on his hair to keep him there in between you legs, but really he had no intention of moving. “Yes what… you wanna cum on daddy’s face and fingers” “Yes yes” You whined nodding you head. “Then cum for me… cum for me baby” He says, speeding up the rate in which his fingers dove in and out of your pussy, his tongue swirling around and sucking on your clit faster as well. You moaned loudly arching your back off the wall. Not a second later your were cumming on his fingers and face. “FUCK CHRIS” You scream feeling your legs shake subtly, threatening to give in right undereath you. Chris toke note of this and stood up quickly pulling down his pants and boxers. He pulled you closer and grabbed you by your hips picking you up. 

You wrapped your legs around him and kissed his plump lips. “So wet for me baby” He whispered against your lips causing chills to run down your spine. You gasped feeling the tip of his hard cock rub against your clit and entrance. “You ready for me baby?” He whispered against your lips looking into your eyes hungrily. You bit your lip and nodded. “Yes” You whispered looking down. “Good girl” He smirked pushing into you, your mouth dropped open and you threw your head back giving him the opportunity to kiss your neck, and he took it. Placing messy kisses on your neck as you stretched around him. He held you still knowing you needed some time to adjust to him. You always did. You bite your lip out of habit. He shook his head looking at you. “No baby, don’t bite your pretty lips, I want to hear you, wanna hear how good I’m making you feel” 

“Chris” You breathe out moving your hips against him. He knew you were ready, so he pulled out slowly and slid back in. “Fuckkkkkkk” He groans his eyes rolling back in pleasure. “You feel so good around me baby. So tight baby”. 

You wrapped your arms around his neck pulling him closer. “Fuck Chris feels so good… s-so big” You cry out kissing his neck sucking his soft supple skin. “Marking me baby… want everyone know i’m yours” Chan grunts picking up the pace slamming into you. “Yes” “Yes what baby” “Yes… youre mine” “I’m yours baby… and your mine… my pretty girl” He whispers his fingers digging into your hips as he fucks into you faster and harder, surely leaving marks to remind you of your sinful actions tomorrow. 

“Ah oh my God CHRIS” You scream tightening around his cock. He groans leaning his head back. “Fuck princess you gonna cum… you gonna cum for daddy” “Yes” “Cum baby… cum around daddy’s fat cock” “Chris FUCK!” 

Han sighed a smile on his face, for the first time in a while he slept really well, and all thanks to Chan releasing him early. As soon as he got back to the dorm he skipped his nighttime routine immediately laying in bed. The second his head hit the pillow he knocked out. He was definitely well-rested. Changbin walked in behind him with two coffees in hand. It was just going to be them too for now. Chan asked them to come in an hour before so they could go over the vocals and see if there was anything that needed adjusting. “Bin look at this” Jisung laughed seeing the length of the audio recorded last night.  “He always does that… he always forgets to cut it off” Changbin laughed sitting down next to him. “Let's get just his part and cut the rest yeah?” Han nodded pushing the play button” “Ahh oh my God CHRIS” They both turned to look at each other in shock, it couldn’t be. Oh but it was, an audio recording of the two of you having sex. Having sex in the booth everyone had to use. “Gross” Changbin immediately paused it 

“Dude” Han sighed running his hand over his face. “I know were gonna have to move studios again” “Not that… he didn’t record his part… he’s not coming in till later, we’re going to be behind” “That's what your worried about” “Yes… I don’t want to stay late… I value my sleep thank you very much”

#skz fanfic #skz scenarios #skz x you #skz imagines #stray kids fanfic #skz fake texts #stray kids texts #bang chan #bang chan smut #bang chan x reader

[nobrashfestivity]

Everyone Hates Poetry 2024

Rules

Write a poem before Feb.5th and submit it to me with the submit feature or in an ask.

Poems should be less than 500 words

You can use your real name or your blog name but they can't be completely anonymous.

Poems will be published at 9pm on Wednesdays and then a link to each poem will be added to the bottom of this pinned post so people can read them all.

I can't stop anyone from reblogging their own poems and generally sharing art is a wonderful thing, but don't turn it into some kind of social media campaign. because people with a small number of followers would be at a disadvantage. This is supposed to be fun. Please do reblog this post and tag people if you think you know someone on tumblr that might be interested. Since the post will contain links to the submissions, your poem will not be lost in the shuffle.

If I receive less than 10 entries I'll cancel the contest and consider it a failed experiment.

Public voting will begin after the 5th.and account for 50% of the vote

A panel of judges will also vote but will not submit poems themselves, and their votes will make up the other 50% of the final tally.

.There will be small prizes for the winner and runner up.

This is my art blog and will remain so, as it always has been. I'm doing this because poets here don't get much chance to get their stuff read and I have a fair number of followers. It's just a little thing to do if you want. I'm not turning this into a poetry blog or a contest blog or anything else.

Poems don't need to be finished. Due to the one month time frame I would suspect these would be first drafts, but please write something new. I want to encourage people to do something now, however imperfect, rather than showing work that's already done.

Updates will follow. Thank you!

Rule clarifications

-Please dont send poems anonymously if at all possible. I am happy to include a name that doesn't identify your blog directly but it's impossible to refer to or contact people who submit poems anonymously. I can't have anonymous poems considered without at least a name for you and if you were to win a prize, you'd need a name and address to claim it. I don't so much care about the latter part, that's for you, this becomes very disorganized and hard to regulate with anonymous messages floating in.

-Please put the title of your poem above it. If it is below it, I have no way of distinguishing with certainty if it's a title or a last line.

One poem per person please.

if you do not wish to see the poetry contest entries just filter the tag "everyone hates poetry 2024"

Due to the very high volume of submissions I am blogging them more gradually as to give more attention to each one. The same tag, "everyone hates poetry 2024", that you can filter if you do not want to see these can be used to find the submissions. If you follow this tag you'll get them all.

Please note that I am now publishing these as asks, previously I had to retype to keep the formatting and there are simply too many entries

Submissions are now closed, I will be publishing submissions all week and then when all have been posted we will start the voting (stay tuned as to how and when)

#nobrashfestivity #everyone hates poetry #poetry #poetry contest #everyone hates poetry 2024

[kosije]

c/w ★ ׂ duke!miguel x fem!afab reader. smut. all smut. miguel tries to exercise restraint. spoiler alert: he fails. sins in silk extra <3

duke!miguel o'hara: who enjoys taking you in the most compromising of places.

he'll fuck you in the garden, behind the tall bushes of flowers taunting you on how loud you're getting.

"oh princess, i don't think it would fool anyone if they heard the flowers calling my name. if you can't bite your tongue, even the k-kingdom next door will hear of this."

"heavens," he groans. "i bet you'd like that, huh? want everyone to know how you have the best fucking cunt, yeah?" he all but moans into the back of your neck. "too bad it's all for me."

he'll excuse himself from the table just to eat you out inside the kitchen storage room, away from your father, his colleagues, and the cooks.

messily making out with your puffy pussy, moaning into your mound when your hand pulls on his hair. "m' baby needs 't don't she?" he slurs like a drunk man. his large hands wrap around, digging into the meat of your thighs only to pull himself in deeper. you're having trouble keeping your voice down, but thankfully the kitchen is a mess of noise and masks your low mewls and his groans completely.

he sneaks back to the table while you to your chambers, but you don't miss his cheeky "oh, im afraid i've already eaten dessert."

his favorite place, however, is the place he took you for the first time. he takes his time in those moments. working you up, till you almost break, then taking you apart only to put you back together over and over again.

slowly licks up your neck, with your legs fold in front of you, he pistons himself in and out of you. your antsy hands drop from your thighs to his back, up to his neck, and down into the sheets, crying out at how deep he fucks you—at how much you can see how he's been needing you. how he's been missing you.

it's in the way he kisses and worships your body, the way he whimpers whenever he's inside you, how he looks at you, even while around so many people at your father's party. how big they got when they saw you, how wrinkled the sides were when he smiled. in the way he holds you after he's fucked you—tight and warm. how he nuzzles into your neck, kissing your shoulder, completely flush to you.

but you're no better. calling out for him whenever you touch yourself, wearing his favorite color every time he comes around, with matching panties. how you wrap your hands over his arms, kissing the meat of them. how you hide little gifts, sonnets you've worked, sweets you've baked, intimates you've worn. and the way when he writes you back, "thanking you," you feel like you could die.

it's easy to secretly write about him. gush to yourself about your scandalous love with "mr. frown," you write for hours. tuck them safely into the hole inside your closet that you made when you were younger. you write all the days you don't see him, and when you do you always have to mention something from them.

"i wish time would stop when we are together, so we can see what forever feels like."

"i need you more and more every time we part. you take a piece of me with you i desperately need back. that spins and leaps inside of you when you see him again.

"if only you'd stay tonight, then my room wouldn't feel so empty."

when you tell him this, with that sparkly look in your eyes, he pauses. looking you over.

"it won't be good for us, princess."

"why is that?"

"i won't—i won't be able to control myself, just not safe for us."

"you don't know that," you all but plead. "you have to at least be curious, of what can happen if we try?"

he understands what you're referring to because those same thoughts bounce around his mind whenever he's alone, missing you. those pestering "what if's," that keep him up, keep him wondering. the ones that eat at his resolve.

so even though it's risky, and is no good for him at all, he sinks back into your bed. kisses the back of your neck, nosing your baby hairs, and whispers a weak, "i can never say no to you"

and for a night, you two don't have to spend it missing something.

#( ☆ ) smuts #( ☆ ) fluff #( ☆ ) spiderman: atsv #miguel o’hara headcanon #miguel o'hara smut #miguel ohara #miguel x reader #miguel smut #spiderman across the spiderverse smut #spiderman across the spiderverse #duke!ohara #sins in silk

[hispg]

Just the tip

Pairings: R4! Leon X Fem! Reader

Summary: You asked him for just the tip, and that's exactly what he's going to give to you.

Wc: 2.4k

Warnings: smut, unprotected sex, p in v, fingering, soft! Dom Leon, pet names, dirty talk, multiple orgasms.

An: I found this draft sitting here, so yeah, I'm posting it XD. My finals are next week, so I can't wait to be free and write more😭😭

"Just the tip, you say?" Leon asked quietly, not stopping shoving his fingers into your cunt for a second.

You were so wet, you'd even lost count of how many times he'd made you come that night. All he could hear from you were babbles that made no sense at all, or the whimpers you let out every time he viciously pulled your clit up.

"Mhm-mhm..." You murmured at his question, nodding.

You were so hot, so turned on. Your mind went wild with every touch, you felt like rolling your eyes every time he hit that weak spot of yours so easily.

All he did was frown at your response, using his free hand to lift your chin and make you look at him.

As always, he had that sideways smile on his face, that dirty look that never failed to make you wetter.

"Use your words, pretty thing." He purrs, taking the opportunity to give you a quick peck on the lips.

"Y-yes. Just the tip." You whisper embarrassedly, biting your lips to keep your moans from getting even louder.

You were without a condom, completely unprepared for this situation, not least because you didn't imagine the night would end like this.

So maybe if he fucked you with just the tip, there wouldn't be much of a problem, right?

The next thing you heard was a low chuckle, and he buried his fingers in you once again, making you see stars with the spots he was hitting. Or how deep he could reach, which you couldn't even dream of doing on your own.

He did everything calculated, moving in and out, letting your juices make a mess with every thrust of his fingers, the wet, dirty noise mixing with the heavy breathing coming out of you, which by the way were the only sounds present in that room.

"So sweet for me, mhmm... So beautiful." Another one of Leon's whispers in your ear, which made your walls unconsciously tighten around his fingers, your eyes rolling in their sockets just from hearing the little praise.

You knew you were going to fall apart in his fingers once again, but what could you do? His lips glued to your neck, his teeth lightly nibbling at your skin. By then you knew you'd be full of love bites the next day, you bet.

And as if he simply wanted to finish you off at that moment, he lay down a little behind you, spooning you. Your ass hitting his prominent erection, the warmth of his body mixing with yours.

A sign almost enough to make you go over the edge, however, those weren't Leon's plans now.

That's because he withdrew his fingers from you, making a point of using one of his hands to pull your ass against his crotch, shamelessly pressing his erection into you.

The dirty whimper that comes out of your mouth is more than enough to make him grunt in your ear, this time starting to use his free hand to grab your breasts, grasping and squeezing them.

"Sweetie, are you going to cum again?" He was just teasing you, you could tell by the way he was humping your ass.

His hips moved non-stop, and he did it just to see your eyes roll back, your lips parted as you moaned his name again and again.

"A-ah... mhmm— Please." You begged, rubbing your clit against his knee, which was already between your legs.

He could say what you wanted, but maybe he could play with you a little longer. You could feel his muscles flexing behind you.

Or the way the veins on his arm were so prominent as he flicked your nipples between his fingers, making a point of pulling and pinching your nipples gently, yet firmly enough for you to shudder underneath him.

At the same moment your nails sank into his forearm, so deep that you could already see the red marks forming on his skin, marks he wouldn't mind covering.

Your voice becomes even more whimpery when you hear the sound of him undoing his belt, the skillful hand that never took long to remove his clothes, and yours too.

Then you hear him taking off his pants and underwear, causing his cock to simply stick out.

And it was so hard, flushed and swollen, as well as the delicious trail of pre-cum dripping from the tip of it.

Soon his cock was in your pussy lips, getting dirty with your fluids, as he moved back and forth, humping against you like a dog in heat.

You were just whimpering at this point, clutching your pillow as Leon pounded you from behind, and he occasionally rubbed the tip of his cock against your clit, making you go to heaven and hell at the same time. His pre-cum leaving a sticky line on your clit, basically almost gluing the two of you together.

"You're so fucking hot, don't tell me you're going to cum with just that." And there you went, as if that was all you needed to hear to cream on his cock.

Fresh cream coating his entire length, making him growl in your ear once again. His fingers gripped your hips tightly, leaving his mark there, you could already feel it.

"Good girl." He compliments you, giving your ass a playful smack, slowing down his movements, letting it be something more gentle and soft, which wasn't unusual coming from him.

However, that night he wanted to make an exception to the rule, he was going to give you what you asked for, and you asked for the tip.

And have no doubt, because that's exactly what he's going to give you.

He turned your body a little, lowering your hips so that he could put one of his legs on top of you, basically mounting you, you could feel his chest on your back.

"I want to see you cum again, yeah? Can you do that for me?" Even though he knew the answer to that question, he wanted to hear your sweet, sly voice telling him that you could do whatever he wanted.

He didn't waste much time pushing into you, but just his girth, just a little. But it was enough to stretch you, to make your walls wrap around his shaft, which, by the way, was already satisfying you so much.

You moaned, arching your hips towards him, feeling his body on yours even more.

"Mhm- Leon..." You called softly, looking up at him slyly, only to see him smile once again.

He was enjoying this as much as you were.

"Fuck, you're so tight. I haven't even put half of it in." A grunt in your ear, he wasn't angry, quite the opposite.

The fact that your pussy was so tight for him was simply a blessing in his eyes. How did you manage to fit him so well? The only plausible answer was that you were made for him.

Soon he began to pound into you, shallowly and slowly, but you couldn't help but hear the erotic moans coming from his lips, or the way the wet noises of him fucking your cunt filled your ears.

It was so filthy, so impure, if he was being honest, nothing compared to fucking you without a condom, it was fucking good.

You weren't helping him either, honestly. You were so wet, moaning and shaking under his body, what could he do?

Your hips moved up and down with each light thrust, each time his girth moved in and out of you.

You could tell how much he was controlling himself, or how much he wanted to lift your ass up, bury your face in the pillow and fuck you from behind.

God, he'd be lying if he said he didn't want to.

But fucking you like that, just with the tip, was just as good.

"Good? Mh?" He purrs, moving his lips down to meet your ears, licking and nibbling at the spot.

You just nod eagerly, biting your lip and looking at him with those sly eyes of yours, asking for the dirtiest things with just that innocent look.

"Look at you," He continues, his thumb finding your clit and then starting to make little circles. The firmness is more than enough to make you shiver and let out a loud squeal.

"Begging me to fuck you? Begging just like the needy little thing you are." He grunted loudly, thrusting deeper now, you could feel him in almost all at once.

All you did was whimper, clutching your pillow as he rammed into you relentlessly, and there was just a little bit left before he forgot to put in just the tip and started fucking you for real.

What could he do? You were pulling him in, your velvety walls inviting and nestling him so well, how could he say no?

"Leon—" You gasped, looking at him with glassy eyes, a sign that you were almost there once again.

Your hips bucking against his, without you even realizing it. Just as you didn't realize that you'd already creamed all over his cock, leaving no spot clean.

How dirty of you.

All he did was hold you down to prevent you from moving too much, he swears to God he couldn't hold his load if you kept squirming more than you already were.

And then you whimpered loudly, in an incredibly high-pitched way. And there you were again, wetting the sheets for who knows how many times.

White cream dripping off you, getting all over your thighs and Leon's cock in the process. He couldn't help himself, throwing his head back and grunting a loud 'fuck', eyes wide as he watched you cum for him.

And that, that was all it took for him to lose control.

"I'm going to give you what you want, sweetheart." Words that sounded so sweet, completely different from the action he was about to take.

Soon he was turning you over in bed, making you lie on your stomach, your face buried in the pillow as he lifted your hips, holding on tightly to your sides.

The image was so dirty, so impure. He could cum just looking at you.

Unkempt, messy, trembling and whimpering beneath him. Your needy little hole leaking all your fluids, making you even wetter, and that was so tempting.

"I'm going to fuck you the way you want, isn't that what you want, mh?" He asked softly, taking advantage of the moment to spread your ass cheeks with his broad palms, holding on with a firmness that made you almost go crazy.

In one swift movement he pressed into you, without any effort he was completely buried in you, cock buried so deep that you could feel every inch of it, every vein pulsing. Each and every centimeter.

The stretching he did on you that every time you couldn't help but roll your eyes and bite your lip to prevent a moan slipping out.

Once again he let his head fall back, his blond strands sticking to his forehead, his lips open wide, leaving room for the dirtiest, most erotic grunts to escape.

He was so comfortable, so nestled into you. And it only got better when he started slamming into you, hard and deep, you could feel his heavy balls slapping against you.

You were so wet, your cunt so wet and tight that he could hardly contain himself, you were simply juicing his cock with every sharp thrust he gave you, to the point where there was a white ring at the base of his cock.

His fingers sinking into your flesh, gripping your sides so tightly that you could feel the marks that would be left there. All you could do was clutch the covers with your trembling hands, muffling your sounds in your pillow.

It was so good, the feeling of fucking you raw like that was irresistible, feeling your pussy tightening and clenching around him, your warmth and the way you were so tight.

Or even your trembling moans, the way his name came out of your lips in such a sly, sloppy way, just to match the mess you were in.

And as soon as he started pounding into you even harder, he couldn't help himself, your body arching, your toes curling and the words disappearing from your mouth. You clenched tightly around him, all your fluids gushing out at once.

That was it, it was over for him right there, just watching you milk his cock right then was all he needed to come inside you.

"Fuck-fuck," was the loud grunt he let out, closing his eyes at the erotic image in front of him. One he wouldn't soon forget.

He didn't have time to pull out of you, your hot, tight pussy wouldn't let him go anywhere.

So that was it, he couldn't stop his hips before his cum spurted into you, he just gave up on anything else when he felt his hot liquid filling you.

Hot white cum leaking out of your dripping hole, your juices mixing with his. The curses coming out of his mouth as he watched the situation were nothing like the scene that was right in front of him.

That was the first time he came inside, but he can bet it won't be the last.

#leon kennedy #leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy x y/n #leon kennedy x you #leon s kennedy #leon x reader #leon x y/n #leon x you #leon resident evil #leon kennedy smut #re leon #resident evil leon #leon scott kennedy x you #leon scott kennedy x reader #leon s kennedy smut #leon smut #leon re4

[baldursgate3tempobsessed]

Okay so thought would Astarion just be uber happy if tav is just clinging to him and is like let me stay here where it is safe for just a little longer pleaseee

I think I'm feeling the energy. And it's an actual drabble instead of a novel! Cw: In-game references, spoilers, but this is just some fluffy fluff fluff.

~

When Astarion made the decision to seduce you, it had been based in cold rationality. In the short time he had known you, you had proven to be intelligent, capable, attractive enough for sex to not feel like a total burden, and extremely hard to kill. Using a falsified relationship to wrap you around his finger was the easy choice for survival. And it did work, with varying results.

Because you provided many, many complications. Like the unfortunate reality that Astarion quickly had grown sincerely fond of you. Not only were you impressively competent, you were fun. Hilariously bitchy in a way that never failed to make him laugh. But you were still kind, kind in a meaningful way that Astarion was simply not used to.

It had felt like a shock when you were so adamant about his right to be his own person. When you didn't make him bite that drow cretin he was struck with the realization that you actually cared about him. What that thing had been offering in return would no doubt have been useful to your journey, but you didn't even give it a second thought. And Astarion wouldn't soon forget how you saying, "He said no," with so much conviction had sent a shiver up his spine.

Perhaps the whole event sent him into a tailspin that ended with him admitting his, in-hindsight, horrible plan, but it had been worth it in the end. Gods knows why, but you didn't abandon him when he revealed the truth. You just listened. You listened and opened up your mind for him to see just how much you cared for him. A care he perhaps didn't deserve, but one he would take. Even if he had no idea what the two of you were doing anymore.

But he did know that something shifted in your relationship after that, the birth of a new kind of trust. Apparently, Astarion hadn't been the only one holding back.

Because seemingly overnight, you got a lot more touchy. A facet of yourself that he really had not seen coming. Not sexually, no. You had been nothing but a dream when it came to understanding the hang-ups he had with that particular topic. But you did suddenly decide that you loved holding hands. You loved hugging him, for no reason at all. The two of you went from the occasional night together before parting ways to simply sharing a tent. And gods were you a cuddler. Every morning he would wake up with you wrapped around him, peaceful and at ease as you slept in his arms.

And... it was nice. Really, really nice. Astarion had always assumed that he would loathe being with someone who was so tactile. But it turned out when every little touch wasn't leading to mediocre and/or horrifying sex they were actually quite enjoyable. It felt good to have you so close, to know that you felt safe and comfortable with him of all people. Nice enough for Astarion to slowly get addicted to it. He wasn't quite sure when his favorite past time became reading while you laid on top of him, but he knew it claimed to top spot with startlingly speed.

Even now, with Cazador still looming, the tadpoles still squirming behind your eyes, worries and responsibilities abound, Astarion felt completely at peace. He was laying flat on his back on his bed roll, a book in one hand and the other carefully petting your hair as you dozed off; your body completely draped over him. He'd have to wake you sooner than later. Baldur's Gate was only a day's journey away now, and if you wanted to make it there before nightfall then everyone would have to get moving. He could already hear the sound of the others shuffling about.

He snapped his book shut, setting it to the side before he gently shook you, "It's time to rise and shine darling, Baldur's Gate won't be saving itself."

You mumbled as you buried your face into his chest, your words slurred, "Don't wanna. Too early."

That was another change with this newfound phase of trust. Astarion had become the only person who knew your little secret of not being a morning person. In the first few moments of wakefulness, you were at your clingiest, your whiniest, surprisingly your most honest, and arguably your most adorable state of the day. A fact that you actively hid from the rest of the group out of sheer embarrassment, but Astarion thought it was cute.

Not to mention that it made him feel special, oddly enough. That he was the only one who was allowed to see you like this; who could take care of you like this.

Astarion laughed at your response, "Tell that to the sun sweetheart. It's high-time we got going."

Despite his own words, he wasn't really doing much to move the process along. If anything he was hindering it when he wrapped his arms around you, only helping to make you more comfortable instead of less.

But then again, maybe he wasn't quite ready to let you go yet either.

You shook your head against him, your hands tightening on the fabric of his shirt, "Le'mme stay, just a little longer."

"That's easy for you to say when you're not the one to get Lae'zel's wrath," Astarion lightly argued, still making no moves to actually hurry this process along. But it was true, Lae'zel always blamed your lateness on him, her favoritism towards you blatantly obvious. The bitch. But at least she was a bitch with good taste, "I would prefer not to be murdered by a gith for being tardy."

But you were already back to being half-asleep, your internal filter completely disintegrated as you mumbled, "Feels safe here, with you. Don't wanna let it go yet. Please?"

Gods, how the in the nine hells was Astarion supposed to say no to that? He didn't. Instead the grip he had on you only tightened, the happy little sigh you let out at the movement striking him straight through the heart. He felt so... happy in that moment, through nothing more than the simplicity of holding you. Because you trusted him. You felt safe with him, which might as well have been a love confession in Astarion's world. It felt so good to have this, an intimacy that he'd been denied for centuries.

Astarion settled back, letting his own eyes close as he smiled. The others would get the two of you eventually, but until then he wasn't going anywhere. No, the two of you would be staying right here.

#astarion #astarion x reader #astarion x tav #baldur's gate 3 #astarion ancunin #asks #eight more to go~ #so much fluff recently #im gonna need to get some angst in here soon