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emo-batboy · 6 months

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Things Battinson Totally Did During His First Year of University

Using Unhinged or Odd Things I Also Did as a College Freshman :D

Note: for this list, let’s believe Bruce was living in an (admittedly expensive and swanky) dorm because it is required for first-years, especially those entering at a young age, and Alfred told him he needed to make friends. Also yes I did every single thing on this list. I never claimed to be a role model

Bruce, to his TA: I’m so sorry I’m late to class. I gave blood a few hours ago and almost fainted on the way here, but it won’t happen again.

Signs up for a class called “Age of Dinosaurs” despite it not being required whatsoever and proceeds to work his entire schedule around it

Bruce: Your mental health is super important. If you think you should see the on-campus therapist, go see them. Friend: Fine. I’ll sign up for therapy if you sign up for therapy too. Bruce: Hold on-

Finds a loophole in his housing contract that allows him to get a pet frog, calls him kermit :)

Gets a second frog because Kermit was lonely, names it Constantine after Muppets Most Wanted, then realizes that they’re gay for each other. Wonders if the rainbow-colored rocks he got them triggered anything

Swings dramatically between calling Alfred every single day and ghosting him for weeks, cries when he realizes what he did

“Accidentally” joins the student body council, doesn’t know what he’s doing, gets re-elected anyway

Molds a dragon out of Laffy Taffy instead of doing his work

Bruce: *joins Honors, gets all A’s, takes the max amount of classes, has several minors, overachieves* Also Bruce: I’m a failure.

Breaks into a building after hours to study because NO ONE KNOWS HOW TO SHUT THE FUCK UP AT THE LIBRARY

Bruce: I will not get seasonal depression this year. Bruce: *gets real and seasonal depression that year*

Meticulously schedules his day with a color-coded planner because if he sits down for too long, the thoughts will consume him

Gives a presentation to his rhetoric class on how much he likes Spider-Man: Into the Spiderverse (it is 20 minutes long)

Successfully allocates funding from the student body council to pay for free feminine products in the dorms OUT OF SPITE because someone said it couldn't be done. fuck you, Andrew

Bruce: It is not an all-nighter if I go to sleep before my first class. Friend: It is 7:30am, the sun is in the sky, and your first class is at 12:30. Bruce: But I am getting sleep.

Refuses to go anywhere without his backpack because what if he needs three notebooks at once

Loses over 20 pounds because ✨stress✨ and scares the shit out of Alfred when he comes home for Thanksgiving

Argues with his TA over the one (1) question he got wrong on his Dinosaur exam

Bruce, calling Alfred: Hello father figure. How do I do taxes? Do I have to do them myself? Also, I think I’m having a panic attack.

Joins in on a charity arts-and-crafts project that gives kids books with matching activities made by volunteers, proceeds to commandeer the project because “it’s not color-blind friendly” and rewrites the instructions for everyone

Makes a murder wall

Goes to one (1) sports game and proceeds to leave in the first ten minutes because it’s way too loud wtf is wrong with people

Professor, addressing the lecture hall: I dare you to write an essay about these two sentences. Bruce: *writes an essay about six words, gets a 100, never even read the book*

Crawls into the ceiling for some alone time

Ghosts someone after a date because he’s too scared to tell them he didn’t know it was a date in the first place and now he feels bad

Classmate: How tf does he walk across campus that fast? I go in the same direction he does on my bike, and he’s always ahead of me. Bruce: *is gay sprinting to Dinosaur class*

Refuses to let others use his Favorite Pen TM

Constantly gets mistaken for a Grad Student because he is “so wise and mature” (bestie, that’s the autism)

Alfred: *casually mentions he got into a car accident through text* Bruce: *replies with a meme while hyperventilating because he doesn’t know what to do with that information??!*

Wears a suit to one of his finals

Regularly eats non-organic food for the first time in his life, proceeds to learn about several allergies Alfred forgot to mention he has

Writes “What is a Hot Pocket?” in calligraphy and proceeds to laugh his ass off alone in his dorm because he is so exhausted he’s reached the point of delusion

Locks himself out of his dorm right before class, frantically asks the floor group chat if someone can help, proceeds to tell the nice gay man on the floor who saved him “I love you” because his social skills have hit rock bottom

Makes a little music album display next to his desk for his favorite band (Nirvana) His friends call it a shrine, and they are technically correct

Has a blacklist of people he refuses to interact with because Reasons

Counselor: What do you want to do when you graduate? Bruce: *gestures vaguely*

Refuses to take the bus because there are people in there and he doesn’t like those

Loses one of his frogs, how tf did he do that, they’re fully aquatic, oh fuck, this is probably why they got rid of that loophole a year later because unbeknownst to Bruce, he accidentally started a frog revolution in the dorms, btw he SWEARS he did not mean to do that

Has two trash cans in his room: one for the Good Garbage, and one for the Bad Garbage. Only Bruce knows which is which

Bruce: *writes a creative piece about a ship’s final thoughts as it sinks, bringing its passengers down with it* TA: Absolutely lovely, Bruce, but are you okay?

Goes on Night Walks, keeps himself safe by maintaining a level 12 resting bitch face at all times

Earns the nickname “8th floor cryptid” after pacing the halls at 3am when it’s too cold for Night Walks (honestly tho how tf didn’t he get the nickname earlier?)

Bruce: Do you think a depressed person could do this? Bruce: *has a manic episode*

Okay that's all love you BYE

#cryptid Bruce Wayne #college au #does this count if op is the au #fully nocturnal unhinged madman Bruce but make him like 17 and full of crippling separation anxiety and autism #bruce would rather die than inconvenience a professor but hE KNOWS HIS DINOSAURS #Dino class was my fav one in uni hands down #yes i am insane thank you for asking #originally this was just going to be a normal list but I kept taking from my own experience then said “fuck it I'm the captain now”#one of these was a lie tho...the murder wall was third year :/#battinson #bruce wayne #batman #the batman 2022 #batman 2022 #the batman #battinson needs a hug #dc universe #gotham #autistic bruce wayne

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thethingswedotomorrow · 6 months

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Crowley has been with humanity since the beginning. The original serpent of eden, he is the first "monster" in humanity's bedtime stories. He is the figurative and literal demon on human's shoulders, always there to guide them one way or another. He's weaved through history itself, and prides himself on an impeccable track record of demonic activity throughout the last 6000 years.

But, naturally, after 6000 years, Crowley finds that he's spent more time pining after a certain Angel than doing any sort of work. Like, an extreme amount of pining.

And it isn't until after the notpocalypse that Crowley realizes that, entirely accidentally and very embarrassingly, he may have accidentally made his pining very, very public.

One of Crowley's favorite ways to waste a day is to take Aziraphale to different museums around the world and watch as the angel wanders around and points out all of the inaccuracies

"Good Lord Crowley, have you seen this painting? Portraying you as a dragon is a tad dramatic, I think. All we were doing were having a picnic. And I have never had my hair looking like that, thank you."

"I don't know Angel, they've got your wings spot on. Wa-Hang on, have they added horns to my head?"

"Oh, I see, suddenly it's only inaccurate when they've got you wrong."

The museums always seem to be miraculously empty, and whenever Crowley mentions this, Aziraphale suddenly finds a new, very interesting piece of art to admire

Crowley admires the lengths Aziraphale goes to to hide the small miracles he's done for Crowley's sake

As if Crowley wouldn't move literal mountains for the angel

*He did, actually, do that once.

In the 12th century, they were having a lovely evening together with multiple caskets of wine, up until Aziraphale complained about the amount of light in his eyes

"Honestly Crowley, all this sun and no shade, it must truly be awful for the humans around here with no shelter. It's a tad much, even for me."

Crowley, even then, immediately recognized this off-hand comment as an underhanded complaint, and knew that would not stand

When the small earthquake passed, Crowley claimed that the nearby church was on a fault line and he was simply doing his demonic duty by damaging holy goods in the area

If Aziraphale realized that the mountain range in the distance suddenly provided much more sun coverage, he never mentioned it.

Currently, however, Crowley follows Aziraphale around, wandering behind him and never truly looking at the things in the museum

In every single place they've ever gone together, there was only ever one thing that deserved Crowley's attention

And it certainly was not an inaccurate model of a 18th century tea set

But when Aziraphale wanders into a hall titled 'Love of the Past', he starts to panic. Just a very tiny amount, basically none at all. A small enough amount of panic that he could deny it, even to himself.

He thinks about the past, towards the beginning, back when Humanity was still getting it's footing and figuring out how to have governments and societies and (the most important part) figuring out the whole alcohol situation

Throughout the years, especially towards the beginning, Crowley began to resent any time not spent with Aziraphale

Everything seemed small and dull when compared to the way the Angel smiled when he saw new type of human dessert, or the way he laughed when Crowley managed to work out a clever comment

And once Crowley experienced those things, he never wanted anything else

He had seen the poetry the humans had written, how much emotion they could pour into a simple piece of parchment or a clay tablet

He never cared for written word, but he was shocked at just how much feeling the humans could manage to pour into words

So after Aziraphale left Rome (after the oysters and the wine and the smiles, for somebody's sake the smiles), he went due east for a new miracle on another continent

Crowley stayed and got well and truly drunk. As he did best.

He had spent a few weeks around the other drunks around the area, most poverty stricken and saddened with some sort of grief of one type or another

It wasn't until a group of poets wandered into his dark corner of the pub that he started to considered writing

Obviously nothing anyone would ever read, he'd ensure that. Every scroll or parchment that he'd touch with a quill would be burnt with hellfire before it left his sight

But, as many of his worst ideas started, he had nothing better to do and too much time to think

So he wrote. He wrote letters, first addressed to nobody, about random thoughts that would pop into his very intoxicated brain. Whether humans would ever find traces of the unicorns they lost on the ark, whether he would ever find a way to count just how many scales he had, whether he would ever reach a point where he didn't have to cover his eyes every day

Slowly, the letters started becoming addressed to 'A'. Whether he was conscious of this or not, he'd never admit.

But he wrote. He wrote to A about Hell, the jobs they required of him, the things they'd have him do. He wrote of the way humans had beaten him to the punch 90% of the time. How they would do things worse than Satan himself could imagine, and they'd never blink an eye while doing it.

He wrote of the way the sun darkened each day that passed without his Angel, the way his wine never seemed to have enough flavor when he was alone.

He wrote of the ways he imagined he could orchestrate an elaborate reunion, a convoluted mess of too much demonic activity in a small area that just happened to have a wonderful new tea, or so he's heard, and wouldn't it be a shame to leave the town without tempting the angel to try it?

He wrote to A about how he was sure he had no heart, no emotions. He was a Demon, for somebody's sake, he certainly had no need for stupid things like that, and so the ache in his corporation's chest when he sees the Angel had to be some sort of malfunction.

Anatural function, surely, that could be fixed with the right amount of aloofness and strong liquor

He wrote of the way the sun always seemed to hit the Angel's hair just right, and Crowley had no faith, he had no God.

But in those moments, with a halo around the angel and that smile aimed towards him, he might consider praying now to a different source altogether, a closer source. One full of life and light and actual proper goodness, not that fake advertised bullshit they plaster on church walls in pretty paintings and sad songs

Crowley wrote for a long while, and found that the writing helped the pain.

Even if only because it brought on memories of Aziraphale, and that was enough to hold him until they met again. It had to be, he had no choice in the matter.

And he wrote so often throughout the ages, and often while he was drunk. And he was so sure, so positive that he had burned every trace of his heart and emotion out of existence.

He had to be. The danger those words could put Aziraphale in was far too great. He couldn't be bothered to care of the danger to himself, but the fact that the very hint of any emotion could come close to hurting his Angel was enough to ensure that they would never come across another being's eyes.

He destroyed every letter and word that described his desire, his pain, his greed. He ripped the words he created out of reality as easily as he had written them. Every time, he burnt the parchment, and every time, it burnt a part of him with it.

And then the Apocalypse had happened. Or, well, didn't happen, he supposed. Really, he wasn't entirely sure if there was a difference.

Because everything had changed, even if the rest of the world hadn't noticed. And he was suddenly allowed to see Aziraphale with no excuse, no half-hearted reasoning behind it. He was allowed to want, and to crave, and he relished it.

And he was allowed to take the angel to museums to watch him fuss over small mistakes humanity had collected throughout the ages

Until he realized that they had, in fact, also collected HIS mistakes.

In a hall. A whole bloody hall. A hall, dedicated to and full of stupid parchment and sappy letters and wine stains over words written so long ago

And honestly who gave them the right? Leave it to the humans to collect other people's belongings and put it on display as their own

And he knew, from the moment Aziraphale read the first page on display, he just knew. This was it. All of it was ruined.

All because Crowley had gotten so drunk and passed out in his room above the pub, and when they'd thrown him out in a drunken stupor, they'd collected his belongings to sell afterwards. And he'd never even realized, so concerned about the next meeting, the arrangement, concerned about anything and everything except the one thing he forgot about and could end them both.

Any moment now, Aziraphale would look up at him, with disgust and confusion and all those emotions that he'd really rather not see on his face, preferably ever, but especially not towards him.

But Aziraphale never looks up. He reads the first page 5, 6, 7 times, being sure to capture every single word. Every wrinkle in the paper, every crease.

Then he moves to the next, and then the next. He repeats this process. Every page, he scours each and every page. Searching and scanning, analyzing every word.

Crowley is frozen at the entrance of the hall, too terrifed to say a word, but too hopeful to leave. He stands there, suddenly feeling the same feeling in his chest that he felt so many years ago, in the corner of the pub, sitting in the dark, wishing for the light that he knew would never come.

He's so panicked, that he doesn't notice Aziraphale finishing the last page, and wiping the tears from his eyes. He startles when he accidentally meets his eyes, and prepares a number of excuses and deflections, all to preserve this shred of peace and safety they had carved out for themselves.

"Angel, I- you really- ngk- humans are so rid- are you hungry? I could eat, I've heard they've got a killer bar around here, and we cou-I can get us there in 10 minutes, ngk actu- scratch that, we could be there in 5, I bet. Museums aren-angel?"

Crowley finds himself stopping the random stream of words coming out of his mouth, when he notices tears in Aziraphale's eyes

"Angel, I-"

That's all Crowley can get out before Aziraphale is walking towards him with a purpose

And suddenly Aziraphale is very close to him

Very very close

And suddenly Aziraphale's lips are on his, and Aziraphale is holding onto Crowley's jacket, and Crowley's hands are just waving in the air back and forth while he processes the last .5 seconds.

By the time he realizes what is actually happening, Aziraphale pulls away just enough to rest his forehead against Crowley's, and laughs.

He laughs. Laughs. Aziraphale is laughing and it's a wonderful, beautiful noise and Crowley doesn't quite understand why, but then he's laughing too and then they are both standing there, arms around each other, laughing and Crowley realizes now that all the words he's written, all the praises he sang of his Aziraphale, the way he wished and prayed for his heart and laugh and love

Not one bit of it is at all comparable to the real thing.

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gay-dorito-dust · 1 year

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Gif art credit to: @viridianv0id

Wally loves physical contact, I’d like to think it’s one of his love languages alongside quality time and words of affirmation, but mainly he adores hand holding; Sure it felt like holding a styrofoam packing peanut made of felt but it’s reassuring and grounding for the both of you.

Bonus points: he fiddles with your fingers when he’s in need of something to fidget.

Wally hates, hates, hates crowded areas.

This is based on what clown said about Wally going to Walmart and immediately wanting to leave.

(This maybe a bit projecting on my half) He gets overwhelmed easily despite how self assured he is. That’s just his mask and he truly hates being overwhelmed whilst in a crowded room.

Let’s say for example he goes to see a theatre but sees how loud and crowded the room is with families, and suddenly Wally doesn’t seem all that up to watching the pantomime anymore and would rather watch a prerecorded one at home where it’s less chaotic.

It’s too much for Wally. It drains him and leaves him wanting compensation cuddles or to be left on his own if he’s not feeling up to being touched after that.

(I work in catering for a local theatre and let me tell ya…when shows are on…it’s honestly too much. Too crowded, too loud for me and all I want to do is go home. Thankfully it’s few and far between cuz when they’re on, i’ve already done my shift.)

Painting, drawing, sketching is Wally’s therapeutic outlet. Something he does not only as a favoured pastime but more so as an healthy method to expressing his inner most feelings because after all, art is about expressing your innermost thoughts. So being the main star brought about a ton of weight for Wally to uphold an image of perfection; which is only made worse the longer he’s forced to act in opposite of what he’s actually like.

There’s a reason why his well known place beneath a tree and -probably- away from the rest of bubbly town of welcome.

Likes to frame any and all art done by you on the walls of his home, even if it’s shit, it’s already up on the wall because Wally loves your artistic approach to things…especially that weird lump that’s supposed to be a dog…you’ve made an attempt and that’s all Wally gives a shit about. (This goes out to my fellow people who aren’t as artistically gifted.)

Wally is your personal hype puppet. He’s so encouraging in whatever you do but please maybe don’t attempt in climbing up house and using him as a jumping off point and into the pool below…please do anything except that. He’s willing to indulge you in apple picking, water balloon fights -as long as his pompadour is covered by a shower cap or something- but not to the extent where you could injure yourself.

Wally probably doesn’t understand what injuries are but let me live and say that even if you do injure yourself, he’s got the cutest array of bandages, plasters and the like as he stands before you like;

Wally: do you want the hello kitty plaster or the moshi monsters ones? 🤨🧐

You: hello kitty plz 🥺🤕

#welcome home imagines #welcome home x you #welcome home x reader #welcome home #welcome home imagine #welcome home x y/n #welcome home arg #welcome home wally x reader #welcome home wally #wally darling x reader #wally darling x you #wally x reader #wally darling imagines #wally darling imagine #wally darling x y/n #wally darling

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le-poofe · 2 days

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Finally~

I wanted to make a little something to say "Thank you for reading" to cap off WYS! Excuse me while I get mushy for a second-

Y’all are the reason this was able to get done. Your enthusiasm for updates and how the story unfolded really means so much to me. It was the little things that kept me motivated, even during the long hiatus. Seeing you guys pick up and point out little details sprinkled throughout the comic always made my day and gave me a sense of validation. Reactions to things like the surprise of Sans’ nightmare or Grillby’s comfort all made me super happy. And you guys gave the finale pages the sweetest reception I could ask for. l'm so grateful that you stuck around for the whole thing!

Overall, I’m very pleased with how this turned out! Interestingly, the main thing I’d want to change if given the chance is how I wrote Sans and Grillby themselves. Especially Sans’ dialogue. My characterization of them has changed quite a bit over the years (hard to tell bc I don’t draw them a lot atm). But that can’t really be helped. Just like the way that my art style changed over time. Hindsight does that stuff all the time. Nitpicking aside, I stand by the creative decisions made by 2019 Me

The funny part is that the original comic was 17 pages and I got them all done before hand so I wouldn't run into the issue of falling into a hiatus between pages!!! If y'all are interested in a bts post, I’ll try to dig up those og pages from my old computer. And maybe I'll show the even rougher epilogue draft I threw together for shits and giggles to see if I could get the page count to 69

Sansby has already been super special to me for a long time, finally getting this done and seeing the response strengthened that. I’ve had so many people find me through WYS over the years, it blows my mind. The messages from people who hold it dear really means the world! Without you guys this comic wouldn’t be what it is now. Thanks for Staying~

#undertale #sans #grillby #sansby #will you stay comic #fanart #digital art #procreate #artists on tumblr #long post

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k-hotchoisan · 2 months

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touch and sketch

stuck with an artist’s block, Jongho’s friend introduces you to be his model for his project, which ends up introducing a whole whirlwind of problems, especially when you're modelling nude for him, and he realises how pent up he is on top realising how attracted he is to you.

Genres/warnings: smut, pwp, artist jongho (bc he’s the only who can actually draw 😭), nude modeling for art, perverted! Jongho who’s actually pent up, unprotected sex, sexual tension, kinda fluff?, oral (m receive), tit/nipple licking, masturbation, blowjob, cumming on garment, cream pie, Wooyoung is lowkey a wingman, bathrobe is a paid actor

taglist: @bro-atz @diamond-3 @mcarebearsstuff @choisansplushie @voicesinmyhead-rc @pre1ttyies @hwallazia @songmingisthighs @yeosangiess @sanhwajjong @interweab @mylovelymito @softwsan @yourlocaljonghoe @itza-meee

🩷stay perverted: the masterlist

The back of Jongho's wooden pencil taps against his sketch book. The page has faint lines of messy sketches, erased over and over again. Eraser dust is scattered all over his desk, especially around his notebook. Jongho sighs, dropping his pencil, where it rolls into the crook of the notebook before he gets up to grab his third cup of coffee. Artist's block is a common occurrence, but this came at the wrong fucking time. Not when he has deadlines to meet.

He glances over at the large blank canvas propped up on the easel. It doesn’t help that his model bailed last minute because something came up. Now he’s left uninspired, without a model, and a shit ton of piling works to submit before the month ends. Sure, two and a half weeks sounded long, but for an artist? It’s almost a death sentence with the amount of work sketches he needs to come up with, let alone the large glaring canvas serving a reminder that his final piece is due altogether.

Knocking from the studio door echoes in the room, snapping Jongho out of his thoughts and worries, at least for the time being. There is a pause before the door pushes open, Wooyoung’s head peeping from the door.

“Hyung”, Jongho greets, settling his mug onto the table, rubbing his hands on the fabric of his trousers. Wooyoung’s eyes are bright, and he looks like he has something to tell Jongho, and he hopes that it’s good news.

“I’ve got good news for you, buddy”, Wooyoung says, dragging a stool to sit beside his junior. “I found a replacement model.”

Jongho’s tired eyes suddenly lighten up. Fuck, there’s hope. Maybe he can wing this shit especially when one of his worries has been elevated by a whole ton.

“How?” Jongho asks, his fingers idly twirling the pencil.

“I’ve got my ways. You owe me dinner, bro”, Wooyoung smiles, patting Jongho’s back gently. “But you can do that when you’re done with your submissions.”

Jongho has never felt relief this large like the ocean, washing over him over and over again. He feels like he can breathe once more. He looks up at Wooyoung, his eyes reflecting a glint of hope of completely escaping his hell.

“Thank you, Hyung. I really am eternally grateful for you”, Jongho sighs, dropping the pencil back to the desk as Wooyoung snatches his phone to enter the model’s number into Jongho’s phone.

Wooyoung dons his signature smile before he heads for the door. He pauses for a moment before he turns to Jongho.

“She’ll come in tomorrow. Don’t scare her off okay?”

Jongho scoffs at Wooyoung’s words, but he nods before he waves Wooyoung off, then going back to his empty sketch book, attempting to drown in his work once more, hopefully with an ounce of progress this time at least.

You glance down at the message from the number Wooyooung passed to you the day before. He told you he had a friend who needed a model for his art finals, and that he was pretty desperate because his previous model cancelled on him. You didn’t think much of it, considering that you did help a couple of your close friends to model for their art finals too, and accepted without much thought.

“He’s a polite guy, but he’s a little shy. Don’t bite him okay?” Wooyoung reminded you, receiving a soft smack to his arm from you in response.

You look up at the art studio, double checking the signage before knocking on the door.

There’s silence. You furrow your eyebrows and knock again after a few seconds.

Shuffling could be heard from the other side of the door before the door pulls open to reveal a boy with glasses that sit loosely on the bridge of his nose. His cheeks are chubby, and his whole demeanour reminds you of a…bear? Something about him looks so cuddly. But he looks like a mess—his brunette hair tousled, his eye bags are slightly prominent, and it makes you wonder how much this poor dude has been slaving away for his work.

You force a smile. “Hey! I’m y/n. You’re Choi Jongho right?”

Jongho blinks before it seems like a lightbulb has gone off in his head. His eyes slightly brightens up, and he shifts a little to let you into his studio.

“Nice to meet you, y/n. Thank you for accepting such a last minute thing. I’ll compensate you once I’m done”, Jongho greets, shutting the door behind him.

You take a step into the studio, taking in the small and cluttered space. Canvases and easels stands take up space on the floors and corners, different types of papers, pens, brushes and palettes covering the desk. There is a couch in the middle of the room, probably for the model, dusted clean, with a large piece of fabric hastily draped over the piece of furniture.

He plants himself on the roller chair before he turns to you, gesturing to you to sit on the couch, and you take the offer, trying to relax against the fabric beneath you.

“So”, Jongho begins, flipping a smaller notebook open, scanning through the bullet points he wrote. “I need you to come in quite often for the next two weeks, at least until I’m done with this, so I’ll have to trouble you a bit.” You shake your head reassuringly.

“No worries, I’m done with my finals, so I’ve got time to spare.”

Jongho nods, and he starts with briefing you on the details of the schedule, and he pauses at the final bit. He seems hesitant.

“…And for this piece, I need you to model nude”, he finally says. Then he looks up. “Are you okay with that?” You see pink tint dusted at the tips of his ears, but his expression remains firm. But he continues, his gaze switching back to his moleskin-esque looking notebook, “this one is gonna take the longest because as you can see”, his hands gestures to the large, blank canvas that sat in the middle of the studio, “it’s definitely going to take awhile.” He’s done, and you see his fingers fidgeting with the dangling ribbon of his notebook.

“Sure. Do we get started now? We should right?”, you respond, a small smile pulling at the corners of your lips, watching hints of relief flood Jongho’s expression as he relaxes slightly. “I’ll compensate you well, I promise”, the male artist sighs in relief.

Of course, he doesn’t have you model nude immediately. He doesn’t want to scare you off, not when he knows how fucking difficult it is to get a model, let alone someone to model nude for him. But he has you do simple poses, poses that he manages to transfer into gorgeous sketches in his sketch book that he feels relief in seeing filled up. It’s amazing to see Jongho at work—how he’s concentrated at fixing your poses at the smallest angles and movements, and how he’s able to replicate real life into drawings. It was almost like magic.

You take a small sip of coffee that Jongho made for you as you watch the pencil in his fingers make rough, yet confident strokes on the paper, all of it coming together.

You observe that he’s rather quiet for the most part, or maybe he’s just absorbed in his own works. So from time to time, you would talk to him, sometimes making coffee for him in between sessions, which Jongho is definitely grateful for. Undoubtedly, he slowly starts to open up, on top of making progress on his assignments. If anything, you thought it was nothing short of attractive Jongho looked when he was fully focused onto his crafts.

The sixth day is when he gives you a head’s up to start modelling for him in nude. By then, the both of you were more comfortable with each other, especially spending quite a bit of time in close proximity, not to mention, despite his seemingly cool demeanour, Jongho was a very easy person to get along with.

“Have you done this before?” Jongho asks, as he sifts through large canvases, looking for the one that is perfect. “Yeah, a couple of times”, you reply, squeezing the bathrobe in your arms.

“I’ve drawn the curtains and locked the door. You can remove your clothes behind the folding screen there”, he points over before going back to setting up his charcoals onto the easel.

It doesn’t take you long to walk out from behind the folding screens in a bathrobe, and Jongho is still setting up his canvas. He looks over when he hears your footsteps growing closer, then gestures to the couch, now with a large piece of white silk fabric draped over. “You can get ready over there”, he instructs.

You drop the robe, letting it hang over the couch as you get yourself comfortable on the furniture. You shiver slightly at the cold breeze from the ceiling fan, and well, also because you were currently naked.

When Jongho is finally done with setting up, his attention turns to you, and he’s rooted to the ground for a good few seconds as his eyes wander all over your body and your pretty little features, and for a moment, his breath is caught in his throat.

Here’s the thing, Jongho has had models model nude for him—both men and women. He’s not phased, because that’s just part of what he needs to do—capture anatomy at it’s rawest form and sketch them onto his papers. But then, here’s the thing—he suddenly cannot seem to focus when his eyes are on you.

“So, how should I pose, Mr Artist?” You ask with a small smile on your face, snapping him out of his little thoughts. Jongho looks pretty flushed—you notice the tips of his ears are growing slightly red, but he walks over where you are.

“If you don’t mind”, he asks, and you shake your head, holding your breath when you feel his warm touch against your bare skin as he gently positions you.

“Lie down for me and face the canvas. I’ll position your arms and legs for you”, Jongho says. You let yourself rest on the plush couch, and you feel Jongho’s hands all over you once more, resting under your ams as he positions it on the couch. Your eyes follow his movements, noticing how he would glance past your chest, but then pause when he has to touch your lower body. The red at the tip of his ears is starting to flush his entire ear by now. His fingers brush against your thighs, and you try not to fidget too much, and hope he doesn’t feel the goosebumps he’s giving you. Jongho manages to position your legs the way he wants them to look before he hastily gets up and scurries back to the canvas.

“I might need you to stay like that, at least until I’m finished with the rough sketch. Could you hold on for me until then?” He asks, his eyes slowly trailing down your whole body, trying to keep the image in his head.

“I’ll try my best”, you reply with a smile.

Jongho tries his best to keep his thoughts at bay, at least, until he finishes the sketches. He lets his hands do the magic, the graphite pressing against the canvas as the quick strokes begin taking shape.

The process definitely took awhile, and you were grateful that Jongho positioned you in a pose where it was relatively comfortable, at least. The both of you would have small conversations in between, and it definitely helped ease the tension. When Jongho’s head would peek out from the side of the canvas, you would internally giggle to yourself, thinking how much he looks like a little bear looking for food.

Although the first day of the nude modelling went well, for some reason, Jongho can’t seem to get you out of his head, well your body, specifically. The touch of your skin still burns on his, and he barely is able to shake off the growing tension in his body. He slaps his cheeks.

Few more days, Jongho. Just a few more days.

The following days go by, not with their own problems—not with the art piece though, thankfully, but with you. The more he stares at you, the more he can’t seem to get his mind out of the gutter. Each passing day he thought he would grow more used to looking at your bare body, but apparently not, because his cheeks would heat up whenever he’s shading or blending, especially nearing your chest and thighs, when he has to look over, his gaze lingering a little too long, at the same time, thinking about how ridiculous he feels about this. Jongho mentally slaps himself, and forces his attention back to the canvas, his shading already halfway done.

But as his glances continue to stay longer on you, the sudden thought of his fantasies bubble up right at that moment—the way you’re writhing underneath him, taking his thick cock inch by inch on the couch that you were supposed to be modelling on, his bare skin against yours. His mind begins to float at the expressions you would make, the things you would say, and his grip on his charcoal tightens.

Jongho pauses there, his mind swimming in the depths of sin, his charcoal paused in mid air. His erection is pressing against his cargo pants. He internally curses, thankful that the canvas is big enough to hide whatever embarrassment he’s holding right now.

As the drawing slowly blooms on the canvas, you could take more frequent breaks in between sessions. At first, you’d wear the bathrobe fully, but as you slowly become more comfortable, you wouldn’t even tie the bathrobe, letting your nipples peek through the large opening, and boy, did that sometimes send Jongho’s head spinning when you’re teasing him like that.

Everything seems to almost snap during another one of your breaks, you quietly walk over to Jongho’s side, your bathrobe only draping over your shoulders watching him blend out the charcoal. The smell of your body soap hits him and floods all of his senses, and Jongho stills, his mind completely surrounded by you.

And that’s when realises his cock is rock hard, and that you are standing just over his shoulder, barely covered.

“I really like your art style”, you compliment, your eyes tracing the lines. You lean in forward, and your hand presses against his shoulders to balance yourself, followed by your body weight. All Jongho can do is force a smile while his heart is beating a hundred miles an hour.

When you leave few hours later, Jongho stays behind to finish and clean up. He doesn’t know how he was able to pull through the rest of the session with an erection just pressing painfully against his pants, but the moment he goes to the couch to collect the bathrobe, he cracks. The smell of you lingers on the piece of garment and Jongho feels like he’s about to fucking burst. He slides his bottoms off, including his underwear, letting his wet cock sit heavily against his abdomen with a relieved sigh.

He knows he shouldn’t be doing this.

Lifting the garment to his nose, your smell completely engulfs him, and his hand is on his cock, giving it a couple of pumps, soft groans leaving his lips. His hips buck into his hand, desperate to speed up while day dreaming about you between his legs, taking his cock into your mouth, bobbing your head, looking up at him with fluttered lashes, then slowly pulling out, agonisingly slow that it drives Jongho crazy, before you pump him and let him cum all over your bare tits.

Jongho’s hips jerk, accompanied by a whine at that imagery. He fucking swears you look ethereal bare like that, but his cum on you? He thinks you’ll look like the perfect masterpiece. The bathrobe falls slightly, and drapes over his cock, and Jongho decides to fuck his hand over the garment, while still letting himself go drunk over your smell.

“Y/n, fuck. Deeper. Oh gods”, His mind slowly growing more hazy at the thought of you doing things to him. Before he knows it, a pleasured whimper slips past his lips, his eyes rolling back, the lewd sounds of his cock being fucked by his hand grow louder, more faster and more wetter, as his orgasm bubbles over, warm and thick all over the bathrobe.

He’s fucked.

The next day, Jongho is completely in a blur, but he’s almost done, much to both his relief and dismay, mostly because he wants to see you more often. The sinful act he committed lingers freshly in his mind, and the slight of you wearing the bathrobe, loose over your body, when he just cummed on it the night before (although he still washed it), has his cock jump in his pants again. He internally prays for the session to go quickly, or smoothly at least, because he doesn’t know how much more he can take.

On your break, you stand behind him again, watching him skilfully use his fingers to blend out the charcoal, his movements growing slower at your scent once more.

“Oh, that means you’re almost done, aren’t you?” You ask, your sides leaning onto him, only separately by the useless garment hugging you loosely.

“Yeah. It’s just a little more blending and we can wrap up”, Jongho manages to reply. He doesn’t catch you taking one of the charcoal. He doesn’t catch you with that playful stare while you slightly stain your hands with it. And he definitely doesn’t catch your playful intentions when you smudge your fingers against his face, a stroke of charcoal that streaked down his cheek while he blinks in utter shock. He glances up at you with a pout before hastily getting off his chair.

A wide smile spreads over your face before you giggle and run away, with Jongho giving chase after you.

“Come back here!”, he yells playfully, chasing you around the studio, which only makes you giggle even more. “That was rude as hell, y/n!”

His hands manage to grab your wrists, and you’re pinned onto the couch, the bathrobe sliding off your shoulders, all the way down your arm. Jongho is just inches above you, panting slightly from chasing you.

“Caught ya”, he presses his hands on your face, streaking a charcoal stain down your cheek as well, for payback, reflecting your smile before it completely disappears. You stare back at him breathlessly, your eyes lowering to his lips before shifting back to his eyes.

He slowly lets go of your wrists, his hands sliding to your jaw. Your arms hug his neck, and before you realise it, Jongho’s lips are soft and wet against yours, parting your lips to let his tongue swipe your bottom lip. A soft groan is pulled from you as he tugs gently against your bottom lip, feeling slick slowly puddling from the arousal. Jongho’s hands slide down to your thighs, pushing them open while his lips keep yours occupied, his mind slowly blanking out.

When the both of you pull back, you can’t help but relish at the way Jongho still looks so fucking good even after that steamy make out session. He looks starved, and so pent up, even more evident when you feel the hardness of his cock just pressing onto your thigh through his pants.

You press your bare leg against his erection, and Jongho lets out a whimper.

“Let me help you with that”, you offer, shifting so that it was Jongho on the couch. You tug at the waistband of his shorts, and his cock comes into view, as heavy as it was the night before, transparent fluids coating the tip of his length.

His breathing grows more ragged, because he can’t believe that this is happening.

“So fucking pretty”, you smile, before sticking your tongue out, giving licks from the base to the top, sending Jongho’s mind into a complete frenzy. “How long have you been pent up like this, babe?”

Babe. Jongho’s breath is caught in his throat. “Awhile”, is all he manages to answer, his abdomen flexing from the way you’re stroking him with your hands.

You don’t give him any warning before pushing your head down, letting your mouth cover the entirety of his cock, letting it hit the back of your throat. Jongho’s knuckles are growing white from how hard he’s gripping the silk fabric on the couch, his other hand tugging at your scalp.

“F-fuck. Don’t stop. Please. It feels so fucking good”, he whimpers, slowly turning into a sob, his hips fucking into your mouth. You pull back slowly, letting him watch his cock emerge from your mouth, wet and sticky with a coy smile.

“Feels better than in your little fantasies, doesn’t it?”

Jongho’s eyes widen, and he swallows hard. Fuck.

You don’t even give him a chance to respond, taking his full cock into your mouth once more, this time, bobbing your head, feeling him fill up your mouth whenever you take him in once more. Jongho’s mind is completely gone, his head is resting against the backing of the couch, eyes rolled back in complete bliss.

He barely comes back to reality when you finally slow down and pull back, thick fluids of his precum and your spit link your mouth to his cock before you lick them away. You give his pretty cock a couple more pumps before you sit up to straddle his thighs, letting Jongho undress you completely (although there wasn’t much to undress anyway), leaving the bathrobe somewhere on the couch.

You inch forward, capturing his lips with yours once more, taking his hands to roam around your bare skin, letting his warm touch linger. Jongho lifts your hips, barely hovering over his cock, and he pushes you down slowly, his eyes locked onto you—eating up your fucked out expression as you’re spilt open by him from below as his cock pushes past your hole. He swallows hard again when his cock is seated warmly in your cunt, taking your breast to his mouth, his tongue swirling gentle circles over and over to distract himself from cumming too early. Drool seeps past the corner of his lips, his mind dizzy at how you’re so warm and just squeezing him so fucking perfectly. He switches to your other breast, giving it the same treatment, absolutely drunk on the way you’re moaning his name, your hips lifting slightly before he’s seated in you to the hilt.

“So fucking deep babe”, you sigh, keeping your eyes locked onto Jongho, who only pulls you into another deep kiss before he says, “we can go deeper.”

You blink at him, and this time, it’s his turn to stop you from responding when his hands roam to your ass, pulling your cheeks apart, letting your cunt swallow his cock even more, before making you bounce on his cock while you hug him.

“That’s it. All the way, baby”, he encourages right into your ears, ignoring the profanities spewing out of your mouth.

The sounds of wet skin only echoes louder in the closed studio, you only pray that no one walks past or tries to rattle the damn door knob. Well, not that you could do anything about it.

“Too much, Jongho-“ you choke, feeling his cock dragging against your soft walls, “I’m gonna-“

“Go on, let it go”, he encourages once more, making sure every time he sinks into you, you fucking feel him pressing against your sensitive spots.

Jongho holds your thighs down, his vision completely focused onto, watching you fall apart on his cock, fluttering so fucking nicely against his length as stars overtake your vision, and cream coating his cock when he pulls out, only to rut back into you.

“You’re so fucking pretty, y/n. Even the canvas can’t capture your glow”, Jongho confesses, feeling himself reach his limit. His eyes are shut, and he buries his head against the crook of your neck. You feel yourself flush at his words.

“I’m gonna cum, y/n. I can’t take it. Feels so good”, Jongho mutters, eyes glazed, looking up at you once more, his grip around you tightening. Your fingers comb back his locks, and with a smile, you reply, “you’ve earned it, baby.”

He falls apart, flooding thick and warm cum into your pussy, his breathing uneven and his mind spinning. Oh god, he can’t think.

As the both of you come down from your high, Jongho still has his head nuzzled against your neck, giving soft kisses from time to time as he softens in you.

“Don’t you need to finish your piece?” You ask, slotting your hands into the sleeves of the bathrobe as Jongho holds it behind your back.

“Yeah, I’m almost done. If it wasn’t for someone who decided to smudge charcoal onto my face”, he teases, and you laugh in reply. “Give me fifteen minutes, then we can have dinner together.”

The mess the both of you made was the least of your concerns, because Jongho scored a distinction on said piece anyway, and evidently, you’ve become his favourite muse, and he turned to be your favourite artist.

#ateez #ateez scenarios #ateez fanfic #ateez imagines #ateez x reader #ateez smut #smut #ateez fic #kpop smut #Choi jongho #jongho ateez #ateez jongho #jongho x y/n #jongho smut #jongho #Spotify #jongho x reader

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frillsand · 7 months

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Hey, I hope you’re having a good day/night!!

I was curious if we could learn a bit more about Janet? I know that we probably should hate her, but I can’t help but being sympathetic towards her. Being an assistant is already stressful, so having a sassy boss definitely isn’t making her life easier.

Of course, only if you want to share!!

Thank you!

Very understandable that people would feel bad for Janet. But she wasn’t always an overworked assistant.

She was Welcome Home’s first director

She wasn’t too fond of the fact that she was stuck working on kids shows. And she especially didn’t like Wally in particular, she didn’t like how easy he got a job as a co-director for his own show. Don’t know if it’s because he’s a puppet or not but she does mostly hate him and ignores the others .

She tried sabotaging the show on a few other occasions but nothing that would stop production.

Until Janet went as far as to destroy the set.

Everything was broken and damaged. Props were broken, mural panels were painted over, and a lot of equipment was destroyed.

Upon discovery, Wally made the mistake of entering first, unsteady prop walls came down and almost crushed him.

It was obvious who had done it, Janet wasn’t exactly subtle with her dislike of Wally( she also completely forgot the existence of security cameras). The producer didn’t like that and she was almost fired but Wally made a proposition.

She either gets kicked out of the industry or accept a job as Wally’s assistant.

Janet, obviously not wanting to get banned from her line of work, accepts the offer. And as generous as the offer sounded, Wally didn’t do it with the kindness of his heart, he planned to make her job a living hell for almost killing him that day.

Anyway lesson of the story, don’t be like Janet. Use your brain and refrain from almost accidentally killing your coworkers

If you see mistakes, no you don’t 💕

All art for this post was by @artsybug0 😘🫶

Thank them because I wasn’t going to draw anything of this in the first place As you can tell by all my blank background art, I hate drawing scenery so much

Byyyee

#nothing makes sense #let’s pretend it does #im tired #wally darling #welcome home puppet show #welcome home actor au #wally actor au #welcome home #actor au #diva wally #actor wally darling #welcome home au #wh actor Au

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sluttywoozi · 1 month

Text

Interlude No. 7 | wjh x f!reader

Interlude No. 7: You snap at Jun and he teaches you a lesson in the art of patience.

Rating: M (18+) | WC: ~2.6k | Pairing: wjh x f!reader | Genre: smut

Warnings: fingering, edging, orgasm delay/denial, piv sex, creampie

Reader Notes: has breasts and a vagina, referred to with she/her pronouns

You regret snapping at Jun the very moment the words leave your stress-bitten lips.

“Can I not have just five minutes of goddamn peace in this house?”

You shudder thinking about the frustration and impatience in your voice, the ringing of your words in the otherwise silent bathroom, the way Jun immediately shrunk into himself and left without a word.

You were in the middle of your skincare routine when he came in, coming up behind you to settle his hands on your hips before asking where the extra formula was. You told him, for what had to be the fourth time, that you keep it on top of the fridge, that it’s exactly where it’s been since you bought it.

He hummed and nodded, squeezing your hips in apology before saying, “Right, I remember now. How much should I use, though? I don’t know how hungry he is, you normally feed him.”

You took a deep, centering breath and responded, “Half a scoop in the bottle, fill the rest with water.”

“Okay, perfect. And where are the-”

That third question, that’s when you snapped.

You shouldn't have, and you know this, but if you’re being honest, all you wanted was to get through your skincare routine uninterrupted. You don’t think that’s a big thing to ask, especially when you haven’t been able to carry out the sequence in a timely manner since you brought the baby home.

There’s always something to be done, a mess to be cleaned, a question to be answered. It’s been weeks since you had even a modicum of personal time, both by yourself and with your fiance, and you knew you were stretched thin, but you didn’t realize you were about to break.

However, you have to admit that Jun isn’t to blame for his lack of knowledge, not when he’s working and you’re doing the brunt of the caring. You hate that you got irritated with him for asking questions you wouldn’t have known the answer to if you were him, and you hate even more that you couldn’t keep it inside and instead let your frustrations out on him.

After that, you barely even felt like finishing out your routine, though you went through the motions anyway, not wanting it all to have been for nothing. You also, perhaps, wanted to hide from him and your shame for a little bit longer.

Now here you sit on the bed, psyching yourself up to approach him and apologize.

He’s your fiance, it should be easy to say sorry to him, you tell yourself.

Truthfully, you don’t want to come face to face with his downturned mouth or his muted spirit or his big, sad eyes. You’re expecting all three, and you just know the combination will feel like a punch to the gut. It’s what you deserve though, for the way you acted.

So you force yourself to stand up and amble to the door, your steps weary and your shoulders tense. You’ve just opened it and entered the hallway when you hear Jun’s soft voice, barely traveling to where you stand.

“We’re gonna be spending some more time together, baby. I think I’ve been working and leaving mommy alone with you too much, she needs to be able to take care of herself too.”

You tiptoe down the hall and peek around the cased opening, finding Jun sitting on the couch with his back to you and your seven week old foster kitten held up in his hands so they’re eye to eye. Peanut blinks his big eyes, seemingly listening to Jun and content to be cradled in his big, warm hands.

Every hint of exasperation melts away as your heart swells, leaving you feeling weak enough you have to rest against the wall to hold yourself up. You’re about to stumble your way into the living room when a knock sounds on the front door, making you jump and wonder who could be here at this hour.

Sure, it’s only nine PM, but it’s nearly your little family’s bedtime, your schedule much more regular now that you have a kitten to care for. Jun doesn’t seem fazed by the visitor, rising from the couch smoothly and hugging Peanut to his chest as he turns to walk toward the hall.

He does startle when he sets eyes on you, before he sends you a boxy grin and smooches your cheek on his way to the front door. You follow him on light feet, watching as he carefully sets Peanut in his carrier and picks up a canvas bag. The door opens to reveal Wonwoo, who takes both the cat and the bag without much fanfare.

“See you tomorrow, Peanut. We love you,” Jun calls, waving as Wonwoo returns to his car before closing and locking the front door. He faces you next and smiles a bit more shyly, taking your hand and guiding you to the bedroom without speaking.

“What’s going on?” You ask cluelessly, your fingers clinging tightly to his when he tries to pull away.

“I thought you could use a night off, so Peanut is having a sleepover with his cousins,” he says nervously. “I hope that’s okay. I can go sleep on the couch if you want to be completely alone.”

“No!” You exclaim before continuing, “I mean, the sleepover is sweet and thoughtful, and I do need a night off, but I don’t want to be alone without you.” Your other hand flies up to grab his and pull him to sit on the bed next to you. “You’re not upset with me for earlier?”

Jun shakes his head rapidly, his hair tousling on his forehead, “Of course I’m not upset with you, baby. You just needed a break.”

“Well… I’m sorry, anyway,” you frown, playing with his fingers. “I shouldn’t have snapped at you.”

“It happens,” he shrugs easily, brushing the moment off like it’s nothing.

You’re lucky to be engaged to someone who balances you out, who can withstand your high strung tendencies, who understands when you’re overstimulated and stressed and knows how to make it better.

God, you love him. And you want him to fuck you brainless.

It’s been hard to find time for intimacy lately, between raising a kitten and trying to get enough sleep, and you’re aching for him in a way you haven’t felt since his last long business trip.

His sex drive is even higher than yours so you’re sure he’s missed you too, and it takes little more than a look into his eyes and your hand dragging his up your thigh for him to get on board. His lips are on yours before you can take another breath, his other hand freeing itself so he can cup your neck and angle your head to deepen the kiss, his tongue seeking entrance immediately.

You grant it without a second thought, your lips parting for him as his fingers slip into your pajama shorts and skim over your pussy. He loves to tease you, loves to make you gasp and plead before giving you exactly what you want as if he never withheld it from you in the first place.

Usually, you can endure it with no problem, but tonight, you’re desperate.

It’s been weeks since you had the time and energy for more than a messy makeout in the dark, and already you can feel heat gathering deep in your stomach, feel your cunt starting to throb for him.

You pull away to whip your shirt over your head and scooch further onto the duvet, smiling at the way his eyes immediately zero in on your bare breasts. He follows you, climbing up and straddling your waist, pulling his own shirt off before leaning down to kiss you again, his lips hungry and his hands wandering.

His fingers roll your nipples, tugging them, pinching them until your back arches and you whine into his mouth. He swallows it eagerly, responding with a low moan and dragging his hands down your stomach. They can only go so far with him on top of you like this, and you feel him huff against your lips when he realizes he’ll have to move to get your shorts off.

A giggle bubbles out of you as he heaves a dramatic sigh and shifts to lay at your side, his fingers hooking in the waistband of your pajamas and wrenching them down to give him access. You bicycle your legs until you can fling them away, uncaring of where they land now that Jun is slipping one arm under your neck and pulling the leg closest to him over his own to open you up.

His fingers swirl over your stomach and down between your legs, the light touch making you tense in anticipation. You expect him to tease you, to make you wait for it, so you cry out when his fingers coast over your clit and sink right inside, curling into your sweet spot before you’ve even gotten used to the feeling of fullness.

You turn your head to look at him with shocked eyes, and he just smiles to himself and spreads his fingers, scissoring them inside of you and grinding his fingertips against your front wall again. You find you can’t look away now, not when you can watch every expression play out on his face, watch the way his eyebrows furrow when you clench around him and the way he bites his lip when your hips buck into his touch.

He’s so beautiful, your Jun, and so, so, so good with his fingers.

It helps that they’re long, lithe, agile, his knuckles dragging against your squeezing walls as he fucks his fingers in and out of you. They crook into your g-spot every so often, not frequently enough to build you up but enough to make you want more. You always want more of Jun, it’s part of how you got together in the first place.

When you were friends, you wanted more.

When you were dating, you wanted more.

Now that you’re engaged, you still want more.

You have a feeling that this desire for him will never fade, that too much could never be enough, that even after you’ve spent your life with him, you’ll still. want. more.

Thank goodness Jun is always willing to give himself to you, even if he does make you work for it.

You’re working for it right now, fighting not to beg him to just make you cum already, your pussy wet enough that you can hear every thrust of his fingers. You know he can hear it too but you’re long past being embarrassed with him, especially when you get this wet for him every single fucking time.

He’s pleased by it, you can tell by the light flush on his face, the dark look in his eyes, the weight of his gaze on your pussy as it sucks in his moving fingers. Finally, he starts hitting your g-spot with every thrust, his thumb shifting to press flat on your clit and rub tiny circles that make your brain melt.

You gasp and let your head fall back on his arm, your eyes fluttering shut as you feel yourself get closer and closer. It’s almost in sight, your orgasm, you just need a little bit of focus and maybe one more finger.

You open your mouth to ask him for it, but before you can even get a word out, he’s saying, “No, I don’t want you to cum yet.”

“What?” You ask despondently, blinking your eyes open to stare at him in disbelief.

“I want you to wait,” he tilts his wrist to get a better angle, fucking his fingers into you even harder, even faster. “I’ll let you get close, but I don’t want you to cum until I’m inside of you.”

“Why?” You whine brokenly, your hand coming up to grip his arm for strength as he denies you.

“It’s an exercise in patience,” he smirks, his eyes playful when they dart over to connect with yours.

You don’t ask any further questions, gravely accepting his decision and resigning yourself to this new form of teasing.

For what feels like hours, he builds you up and brings you back down, tapping directly into your g-spot then leaving his fingers stagnant inside of you, rubbing your clit with his insistent thumb then shifting it just to the side.

You take it all, blubbering half the time and moaning for the rest, your eyes filling with tears as he pushes you right up to the edge then pulls you right back.

It’s a method of torture you didn’t know him to be capable of, and you can’t help but wonder if there’s more you don’t know. You almost hope there is, because that just means there’s more of Jun to learn (and you always want more).

You wonder how he’s got so much self control. You can feel his dick twitching and leaking under your leg, even through his pajama pants, and if the roles were switched, this would already be over.

It’s getting to the point where you’re on the verge of cumming every other minute, needing less and less from him to work you up, your orgasm dangling so close you can almost taste it.

“Juuuun,” you whimper desperately, unsure of how much more you can take.

He glances over at you and can’t seem to look away, his face growing closer to yours until he’s nose to nose with you, your watering eyes connected with his.

Then he pulls his fingers out, tears down his pants, and fills you with his cock before you even register the emptiness.

The stretch is immaculate, the heat of him otherworldly, the pleasure all consuming.

You suck in a breath, feel yourself bear down, and cum harder than you ever have in your whole goddamn life. It steals your voice and your vision, leaving you to listen to every choked out sound leaving you and every grunt and whimper coming from Jun. His hips smack into yours rapidly, wildly, the drag of his cock inside you intensifying every feeling in your overwrought body.

Your eyes roll back into your head and you shudder against him, your legs trembling and your pussy spasming as he bursts within you, his cum painting your rippling walls and filling you to the brim.

When it’s all over, you don’t move for eons, your eyes gently closed and your body limp in his hold. You sense him pulling out, leaving the bed, cleaning you up with a warm, damp cloth. His fingers smell clean when they drift over your face, he must have washed his hands before coming back. He’s whispering to you as he dresses you in new pajamas, murmuring words you can’t make out in your muddled mind. They soothe you anyway, bring you to the surface enough to blink your eyes open and gaze at him.

He smiles when he notices, cupping your cheeks and brushing his thumbs under your eyes, sweeping away the tears that fell without your notice. You summon enough energy to pucker your lips, and he smiles even wider before pressing his mouth to yours in a sweet, soft kiss.

Soon enough, you’re drifting off again, his head resting on your chest and his arm banded over your stomach, keeping you safe.

He fucks you three more times that night, and when you wake up to a knock on the door and a kitten to care for, you actually do feel like your patience has grown.

AN: i still don't feel super confident writing Jun but I'm glad I tried! I had a good time and I enjoy him immensely!

Seventeen Masterlist

Main Masterlist

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jasmines-library · 2 months

Note

Remus Lupin whose sense of smell heightens around the full moon. You come to him and you’re stinking of Sirius. Obviously, he’s really jealous, especially around this time, and he’s clutching you to his side, rubbing his scent all over you, basically claiming his territory.

Lunar Possession

(Art not mine, found on Pinterest. Cred to original owner)

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Note: When I say I dropped EVERYTHING the second this came into my inbox...

Warnings: Pre-full moon remus angst, possessive-ish (?) remus

Word Count: 1.7k

⛧ MARAUDERS MASTERLIST⛧

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Remus Lupin was not in a good mood. He was antsy. With the full moon so close, everything put him on edge: His ears seemed to twitch at the smallest shift in the floorboards and his nose seemed to smell every person that passed his dormitory door on their way to and from the common room. It made his stomach churn, like a boat being tossed about on the sea. It made his head pound in a steady rhythm that made it hard to focus on anything else beside the tedious beat. It was followed by a tightness too; pressing harshly against his temples.

Remus thought he should be used to it by now. He had been dealing with the effects of the full moon for practically as long as he could remember, but he would never truly get used to it. Having you and Sirius by his side always helped though. Remus wouldn’t ever dare admit it out loud, he spent far too much time trying to convince the two of you that he was dangerous and not to be trusted, but you and Sirius calmed his nerves. You made the transformation just that bit more bearable.

He would forever remember the day that you revealed your animagus form to him. Remus could hardly find the words to express how he felt. Never before in his life had he had someone care for him the way that you and Sirius did. James too. He was scared at first, Remus didn’t know how his friends were going to react when he told them about his lycanthropy. Almost certainly he had expected you to run and to never speak to him again. But that night you did the opposite and held him close. And Remus had never felt more loved and accepted. Now, of course he was cautious at first. Angry. Scared. But slowly the three of you had talked him into realising it was a good idea: He was coming home after each transformation with fewer injuries and seemed to be managing much easier with your help. Of course, seeing the scratches and cuts appear on his friends bodies each night made him grimace and try to convince you to stop. He was supposed to protect you and, instead, he was allowing you to get hurt. But you stayed. And Remus was impossibly grateful for that.

Remus groaned as another ache shot through his body, and he turned tugging the blanket closer to him. The moon made him feel the need to hold you close all of the time. He yearned for the smell of your shampoo and the coolness of your skin flush against his. When the moon made him get like this Remus often found himself missing class. All of the people just made his nerves sizzle. Unfortunately, your boyfriend's condition did not mean that you also got a free pass to skip class. Or Sirius for that matter. So, instead of having you close, Remus lay curled up in his bed as his bones ached, waiting antagonisingly for you to return.

When you finally pushed the door open quietly as to stop it creaking, you were clinging onto Sirius’ arm. You arm was looped between his and you leaned your head against the crook of his shoulder. The two of you had been like that all day, he could tell.

You and Sirius had had a busy day to say the least. Not only had potions class run over, but you also had homework that you needed to catch up on during your lunch break. Not that you actually got much done with Sirius around. Sirius was an observer. He could tell from the way you held your shoulders higher than usual and walked with heavier steps that you were stressed. So he did all he could to help you relax a little. Knowing that you were also worried about your boyfriend, he placed gentle kisses to your forehead whilst you worked, or stole them from your lips in the corridor. He wrapped an arm around you and pulled you to his chest to try and expel the tension from your body. Your boyfriend's efforts seemed to have helped because by the time the bell finally rang and the doors spilled open to reveal the flood of students, you were feeling much better. Especially because you could now fill the empty space that Remus’ absence had created.

“Rem?” Your voice was quiet and tender, near a whisper in case he was asleep, or was finding everything too loud.

He peeked his head out from under the blanket, his hair tousled from hours of restlessness. You smiled at him brightly. It was enough for him to return it, and lift his sour mood.

“Hey, Dove.” he greeted, shuffling out of bed to greet you. He couldn’t help but eye his boyfriend who stood with his hand placed tenderly on your lower back. Remus’ fingers twitched. “Good day?”

You hummed, slipping off your shoes and making your way over him to wrap him up in your embrace. You knew it had likely been a tough day for him. “Better now you’re here.”

As you took another step closer to him and away from Sirius the tender moment between the two of you was interrupted. At first, Remus had thought it was because he was standing right next to you. That his nose was getting confused, another side effect of the moon, but now you were standing right beside him across the room from your other partner, Remus knew that he was not mistaken. You stank entirely of Sirius: warm, musky, rich, honey-like and a little earthy. It was complemented by the faint smell of cigarette smoke and leather from his jacket. Normally, the boy would savour the smell of his partner, but you smelt so much like him that it completely drowned out everything about your scent. Something possessive inside him seemed to switch on.

Remus snatched you up immediately, pressing you so tight to his chest that you thought he was going to smother you. He couldn’t help the glare he sent to his boyfriend over the top of your head. Glowering, he pressed a kiss to your head as his fingers reached to fiddle with the hem of your jumper, trying to inch it upward.

You pulled away and frowned at him. Sirius also bore a similar expression. “Moony?”

“You smell of him.” It was a simple statement that came out almost as a growl in his voice.

“Who?”

Remus gestured to Sirius, who had moved to sit on the edge of his bed, with a nod of his head. When he spoke, his tone was filled with something Remus did not possess often. Jealousy. “Sirius.”

Sirius furrowed his brows, before realisation crossed his face and he gave you a look. Remus was feeling left out. He had been feeling rotten all day and now he was being left with a constant reminder of how you and Sirius had been spending the day clinging onto each other instead of him. To make matters worse, the moon was making him possessive: he needed to state what was his.

“Take it off.” Remus’ voice was demanding, but you could hear the need hidden deep behind it. “Please.”

You nodded, your hands slipping over him as you helped him to remove your jumper. Remus tossed it to Sirius and pulled you back to him. Although the jumper was gone, which had helped a little, he could still smell his boyfriend all over you. Understanding this from the way Remus shifted antstily, being the loving boyfriend that he is, Sirius moved to Remus’ trunk to pull out one of his jumpers for you to wear. Before he could reach it however, Remus snapped.

“Don’t touch them.” Remus moved toward his trunk and took a sweater before a very startled Sirius could react. Siri nodded slowly, taking a step back and raising his hands in a surrendering gesture. When after seeing you slip it on, the boy released a breath he hadn’t even known he was holding. It was better, but his mind still screamed at him: mineminemine.

“You alright Moons?” Sirius asked hesitantly, unsure or not whether to approach or not. Remus was still holding you close to him, peppering you with kisses, though he seemed to be less tense now.

He hummed, twisting toward his boyfriend but still not letting you go. This time his expression held much less venom than it had before “Sorry…” He started “I don’t know what came over me.”

Sirius took his chance to move toward him. Instinctively, Moony turned you away, but instead of trying to move you as he thought Sirius would, his boyfriend placed an arm on his shoulder. “It’s alright Rem. I understand.”

Remus tucked your head beneath his chin as your hand wandered to his own to fiddle with the rings on his fingers. “Still. I guess I thought I could handle being alone today… but it was all just a bit much. And seeing her come in here smelling of you…”

“Shh” Siri hushed, smoothing Remus’ hair. “You want to lay down?”

Remus nodded. “Is that okay with you, Dove?” He asked.

“Of course.” You smiled. Taking Remus’ hand you moved over to the bed, shifting the covers out of the way so you could climb beneath them. Remus followed, tucking you close to his body once more, and then Sirius lay on the other side of Remus, resting his head on his shoulder.

Remus relaxed into the mattress as you ran lazy circles over the palm of the hand he was using to keep you in place. He pressed his lips to your head.

“I love you.” He murmured. “I’m so glad I can call you mine.”

“And we are glad to be yours.” Siri told him.

“Thank you for doing this. I’m sorry if I overreacted…”

“Never.” You said. “Anything for our Moony.”

Remus pulled you closer to him. You had a feeling you weren’t going to be moving anytime soon.

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MARAUDERS TAGS:

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#marauders x reader #wolfstar x reader #wolfstar #marauders #Remus Lupin #Remus Lupin x Reader #Sirius black x reader #Sirius black #full moon #werewolf #possessive #remus lupin x sirius black #remus x sirius #Remus lupin x Sirius black x Reader #Remus x Sirius x Reader #fluff #angst

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my1oves · 2 months

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hopefullyy this isnt against the guidelines?? but could i request hcs for laios's party (or just laios and chilchuck??) with an artist s/o ? maybe a painter or sketch artist :)

paint me a picture

꒰ includes ꒱ ⸻ (dungeon meshi) laios touden, senshi, chilchuck tims, marcille donato.

꒰ warnings ꒱ ⸻ gn! reader, fluff, includes both painting & sketching

꒰ blossom's note꒱ ⸻ thank you for the request! as an artist myself this was fun to write! i hope you enjoy!

laios touden

prepare, no matter what medium of art you use, he'll ask for you to create the monsters that he's made up in his mind.

there will be tears once you're done, he's in awe- it's the most beautiful thing he's ever seen... now on to the next one!

is your number one fan, for real, and thinks that maybe he should make a book on monsters with all his knowledge and have you illustrate it- if your up for it?

if you sketch

gets flustered if you want to draw him, but will stay as still as he can so you sketch him.

chilchuck will laugh and point out how red his cheeks are, but laios remains strong.

laios definitely wants to see the finished product! he's all shy because you drew him so handsome (bc he is~)

will try to draw you next, and it's actually not that bad- the proportions are a bit wonky and that's definitely not how many fingers should be on a hand but he tried his best and that's what counts

he may also make you a monstersona to go with his own.

if you ever draw any of the food that senshi ends up making laios will 100% want to keep it! he'll page it into his monster eating guide.

overall he just thinks you're super impressive, and loves when you show off any drawings to him- you'll always be met with high praise!

if you paint

painting isn't the most accessible when traversing in the dungeon, so it's safe to assume you don't often go into the dungeons (especially if you're a full time painter!)

if that's the case, then laios will bring back objects he's found from the dungeon (cool things like monster bones or monster scales, stuff like that) to give you inspiration to paint!

might also bring back wild plants for you to crush up and use as paints- who knows, maybe the colors will be extra vibrant or have a shimmer that you need!

likes to watch you closely when you paint, he's staring at you so intensely you might have to usher him out of the room.

if you have a mini portable paint set that you can bring into the dungeon then laios is more than happy for you to accompany him- and this will give him something to do (watch you) when they make camp!

senshi

whether you paint or sketch or both, senshi is in awe of your skill- and he'll gladly let you know that it's impressive!

if you sketch

senshi can sketch a little, but might get a little shy when showing it too you. you're very talented, and he would consider himself just okay.

if you give him any tips or pointers then he'll listen intently, and follow what you've said. it helps him a great deal, and he thanks ye kindly.

you want to draw him? he's got no complaints, he may ever strike a pose if he's not cooking. just don't take too long, he's not sure how long he can hold the pose!

will ask if he can see some of your sketches, and will flip through your sketchbook (with permission). if you've drawn the food he's made, he'll get a little proud. he's happy you liked his food so much that you drew it!

if you paint

he'll try his best to learn how to make paint for you with the materials he's collected in the dungeon. need a yellow? he's got the perfect flower. need a gloss? slime will do nicely. need a teal? some tentacles are hung to dry and then crushed into a paint.

admires your work, will be curious and might ask if you could teach him how to paint too.

definitely won't be able to hold a pose for a painting, so he'll instead lay/sit down and let you do your thing.

if you get messy while painting, he'll make sure you wash your hands before you help with making dinner! proper hygiene when cooking is important!

will show off your paintings to the orcs. perhaps that want a painting or two?

chilchuck tims

it's impressive, but he thinks he could definitely figure it out himself. the kind of person to say, "I could do that." but then fails terribly.

will admit its harder than it looks after that, albeit a bit begrudgingly.

but after learning how hard it is, he has a newfound (secret) admiration for your hardwork and skill!

if you sketch

if he sees your sketchbook lying there and you're asleep or went to get some water well... his curiosity has him opening the book and ohohoho- what's this? you've done quick sketches of him before have you? definitely teasing and messing with you when you come back.

will ask if you want to draw him, then pulls a 'draw-me-like-one-of-your-french-girls' type pose. feel free to throw your sketchbook at him.

will try to think of money schemes with your talents (if you're not already getting paid)- do you know how many people would pay for this skill of yours?

if you decline his sketchy offer, he'll back off, but he really does think you'd be able to make a lot of money. he subtly trying to compliment you.

if you paint

on the rare occasion he feels like doing something romantic or sweet, with the spoils from the dungeon, he'll buy you some new paints or a canvas or new paint brushes.

"it's no big deal," he says, but he's secretly blushing when you thank him and give him a little kiss on the cheek. well he is pretty amazing~

similarly to if you sketch, he thinks you could make a lot of money if you put your skills up for it. you could paint royal portraits! but if you don't want to, that's fine too!

laughs if you get paint on your face, however gets pissy if you get any on him. will try to get you back by painting a large stripe or two on you. this ends up with an all out paint war between you two- sadly the bastard is slippery and dodges so good.

marcille donato

you're an artist? that's simply amazing! marcille praises all that you do, and simply thinks you're the most talented person in the world.

will brag to others that she has the most talented s/o.

if you sketch

wants to see all your sketches! she really does find it very impressive. she knows it's not as easy as it seems, so she'll admire each page you flip to.

if she ever sees a sketch of her/you ever ask to sketch her, she'll become a blushing mess.

"me? are you sure?" she's so bashful all of a sudden, but don't worry, she'll agree! just wait a few, she wants to clean herself up so that she looks good! will pose but she's very stiff- it's best to sketch her when she's unaware.

if you try to teach her, she's a very quick learner! has the basics down pretty quickly!

if you paint

she has fun with paint if you try to teach her- it gets a little messy sometimes but she thinks it adds to the experience. always ends with her insisting on a nice warm bath though!

asks if you could paint a picture of the both of you together. she'd like to hang it up in her home, or if it's a small painting she might even carry it in her backpack.

buys you the most expensive paints, even if she doesn't really have the money for it. if she really can't afford it, she'll find out how to make paint and do that for you instead!

her favorite types of paintings are landscape/scenery paintings, so if you have any of those she's willing to pay you for them! her home is likely filled with a million of your paintings!

overall, she's your biggest supporter!!

꒰ ❀ ꒱ thank you for reading. have a wonderful day, darling!

#dungeon meshi x reader #dungeon meshi imagines #dungeon meshi headcanons #delicious in dungeon x reader #delicious in dungeon imagines #delicious in dungeon headcanons #laios x reader #chilchuck x reader #marcille x reader #senshi x reader

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