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#i had this thoughts in my notes for a while + those sketches
lampochkaart · 4 months
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I can never stop thinking about how many parallels they have, including opposing ones. For example, their deaths.
Kaito died in peace, with hope in his heart. He was confident that his friends would be able to win and get out. He believed that Shuichi would be able to reveal the truth. He believed that Maki would be able to find the strength in herself and move on, that she would be able to love herself. Also, even though Monokuma tried to make him suffer by destroying him with something he loves, he unwittingly granted Momota's wish. Kaito went into space, as he had always dreamed of. He died before the execution was completed, thus depriving Monokuma and the audience of enjoyment. He died with a smile on his face.
It’s impossible to say for sure about Kokichi, because the retelling of events is how Shuichi imagines what happened. However, judging by the meager bits of information (and the very fact that Kaito seemed a bit reluctant when he talked about what happened), it is unlikely that things were any fun.
Kokichi died in despair and hopelessness. He didn't know whether his plan would work or fail. He couldn't know how well Kaito could (and would) carry out the plan. He couldn't even be 100% sure that Kaito wouldn't just throw away his plan as soon as he died. Of course, judging by the fact that he already had an entire script that just needed tweaking for the current situation (and I think, he prepared script in advance), he was planning on using Kaito for this plan. But still, everything happened unexpectedly, quickly and they were very limited in time. He couldn't be sure that anything would work out. He put everything on the line because he simply had no other choice. Possibly he died believing that he deserved such a terrible death. Or maybe he didn't believe he could ask for more from Kaito, so he gave him the easiest way to kill - press the button of the hydraulic press. Kokichi died with no hope of salvation and no certainty that what he did would make any difference.
+ sketches because i liked how they turned out
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your-local-uwu-artist · 10 months
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sleepover~
had a lot of fun with this, I wanted to practice poses, character interaction, and composition: + I wanted to try out a softer color scheme ...well as soft as my endless love for super saturated colors allows
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dominantslasherking · 7 months
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Billy and Stu with dominant Male S/o
My Stories are meant for the much more mature audience, 18+. Backstory: You always manage to catch Billy and Stu's eyes on you, whether it be in the college classroom, or when you're purchase horror stuff, they always seem to follow you. Even in your house you still feel their gazes
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The dimly lit college classroom was buzzing with chatter, but not loud enough for the professor to call on anyone. Minding your own business as you were taking notes and sketching little side characters on your notebook out of boredom. Eyes were lingering on you, It wasn't the typical glance or side glance.
The lingering eyes were strong and made you feel a cool sensation run down your spine. With a simple turn of the head, you spotted the two. Billy and Stu, how could not know them? Not only did they garner attention all over the college campus. You would always, always catch them staring, although they may be fast to react and look away.
It can't be a coincidence they just always stare at you, not to mention being in the areas you were, your favorite locations, dining areas.
But the really not-so-funny part is, every time you do end up making a friend at this college, they end up disappearing. It had gotten so bad that even your fellow students grew weary of you, believing you were the infamous 'scream' killer.
However after a night in jail and the kills were happening when you were locked up, you were cleared of suspicion but of course not from the college students.
Once the class ended. You made your way out slinging your bag over the shoulder and sighing.
Almost meticulously, with severe calculation Billy had bumped straight into you. He gave a pretty smile as Billy watched you pick up his books. "Thanks, hah," Billy said his eye gleaming with an intense undertone of desire and pure want.
"It's my fault, I should watch where I was going...lost in thought." Your husky voice mutters, stacking Billy's books neatly in your hand before returning them, noticing the subtle hand movement of Billy where his hand brushed against yours.
Turning your gaze to Billy's friend Stu. Stu was silent, his eyes roaming you. The typically loud and humorous friend was silent strange enough, he licked his lips and gave a big smile. "Wow! I love that shirt!" Billy's face fell at Stu's words, elbowing him in the stomach, not enough to cause him severe pain but make him go 'ow'
"What was that for?!" Stu muttered with a pout. "You idiot, his shirt is just plain gray! what do you mean you like it?" Billy scolded, hinting that he knew Stu was checking [Name] out, and now you probably knew that Stu was eyeballing you.
"Ohhh." Stu muttered, as they continued to whisper and bicker among themselves.
Your chuckle made them pause. "sorry, sorry, you guys are just--funny that's all." You spoke softly, you thought they were cute. Bidding them goodbye, you walk out of the classroom.
Billy stared at stu.
"Whattt? Not my fault he's so sexy!" Stu grumbled out.
<<>>><<>>><><><><><<<>>>>
Later that day. You were at the DVD shop, looking through the thriller/horror second, making sure to get your hands on some classics.
With a loud and abrupt clank, your gaze faltered on the row across from you.
"Oops, did I ruin your guy's peeping session?" Randy had asked Billy and Stu. Stu gritted his teeth, Billy gave a urked glare. But the two of them knowing, your gaze was on them resisted doing something they were dying to do. They would just have to get back at him later.
"Wow! [Name], Thriller & horror movies? Nice dude!" Stu cheered pretending as if he didn't already know that about you...
Stu had started to chitter-chatter with you, while Billy was shooing and waving Randy off. Soon after Randy complied (after rolling his eyes and snarky comments) leaving the three of you alone.
"Ehm,--Well Billy and I, we love those types of genres!" Stu happily said as Billy's attention was now drawn to you, his feverish gaze landing on your lips every time you spoke. Taking a pause you spoke, "Really? why don't you two, come over sometime, we can watch them together?" You ask, as the two slashers freeze, slowly turning to look at each other and then back at you.
"What's the matter?...you don't want to---" Before you could finish what you wanted to say, Billy cut you off. "No-! No, we would love to."
Nodding you smiled, "Sure next time in class, we should set up a time and date." After bidding farewell, and purchasing the movies you got, you left, leaving Billy and Stu to celebrate together.
<<>>><<>>><><><><><<<>>>>
Pausing the movie, you itched the back of your neck, a feeling of a sense of dread washed over you. You had it again. Like someone, was watching, analyzing, observing you.
"Fuck." a whisper, under your breath, as you got up to check your popcorn. Walking to the kitchen, you take out the bowl of popcorn, setting it down as the phone rings.
"Hello?" "What's your favorite scary movie, [Name]?"
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jayybugg · 2 months
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dreams come true
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Mattheo Riddle x Fem!Reader
Summary: You and Mattheo can't resist each other and have some fun in a tattoo shop.
Warning: Tattoo Artist AU!Mattheo, Dirty talk, Takes place AFTER Hogwarts, Smut (18+), No use of Y/N.
Note: I'm embarrassed to admit how long it took me to write this but personal Tumblr friends know this was a long time coming. Based on feral thoughts from @finalgirllx tattoo Mattheo edits (Please go check them out if you haven't). @cafekitsune for the banners as always! Hope you enjoy!
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Mattheo raised an eyebrow, looking up from his drawing station when the bell of the shop’s door rang. It didn’t take long for him to recognize you. A grin spread across his face.
“Back already, Love?” Mattheo’s sultry voice asked, pulling your attention to him. You tilted your head, a smile curving into your lips. “Missed me, Riddle?” You leaned over his drawing station, pulling your bottom lip between your teeth.
Mattheo kept his eyes trained on your face. He knew if his eyes wondered, they would go straight to your chest. As much as he loved to flirt with you and found you insanely gorgeous, you were still a client and he needed to be professional.
“More than you know, Princess.” Mattheo stood up, walking around the table to tower over you. “What are you here for now?”
Mattheo had tattooed you last month, so he was shocked that you were already back for another one. You looked up at Mattheo through your lashes, “I have a new tattoo idea.”
“Well, spill the beans.” He leaned against the table, focusing on you. He crossed his arms across his chest, unintentionally flexing his muscles while showing off his ink-covered arms. You wet your lips, dragging your eyes from his arms to his eyes. “A dragon.” You said.
“A dragon?” Mattheo asked, looking at you curiously. You nodded quickly, “Yeah. Specifically, a Hebridean Black dragon, but more colorful.”
Mattheo smirked, walking back around the table, retaking his seat. He picked up his pencil to start a sketch. “I’m assuming you’re picking the Hebridean for its enormous size. This will be a large tattoo, huh?” He asked, eyes focused on the paper in front of him.
“You know me so well, Riddle.” You laughed, “Yes, this will be a large tattoo. I want it to wrap around my whole thigh, the head starting on my hip and the tail ending around the knee area.”
Mattheo nodded slowly, looking at you. “Those are sensitive areas, Princess. Are you sure?”
He knew you would be fine with the areas. He had already tatted your spine, leg, ankle, sternum, and side boob. He was the one who wouldn’t be okay. Mattheo was using every ounce of restraint to stop himself from simply bending you over one of these tables and taking you there.
“Of course, I’ll be okay.” You raised your eyebrow. “Who do you think I am? Some rookie?”
Mattheo chuckled at the question. “Fine. You got it, Princess. You can hang out in my station while I get it drawn up and printed.”
You smiled at him, walking into the familiar room. All the ink and equipment were neatly placed and clean. You sat on the tattoo bench, leaning back as you waited for Mattheo to join you in the room. He didn’t leave you waiting for long. Mattheo entered the room with the printed-out stencil and a pair of smooth, black rubber gloves.
“I forgot to bring a change of pants.” You said, slightly embarrassed, “This was a kind of impulsive decision.”
Mattheo stared at you before shrugging. “I’m comfortable if you just want to do it in your underwear, Princess.”
You smiled, standing up and peeling your jeans off. Mattheo turned on his heels fast to face the wall. His eyes trained on the ceiling as he took a deep breath. You laid back on the table, looking over at him. “I’m ready, Matty.”
Mattheo nodded, clearing his throat. He slid his gloves on as he watched you shift around on the bench in just your underwear and top. He held back his groan and pulled up his chair. He prayed to Merlin that he would make it out of this session with a piece of his dignity.
The beginning of the session was easy. Mattheo focused on the designs while he listened to you rant about how hard school was. It wasn’t until he got to the inner part of your thigh that it got difficult.
To have precise lines on your tattoo, you had to spread your legs with Mattheo nestled in the middle of them. He gripped your thigh, keeping the skin stretched as he worked. He couldn’t focus on what you were talking about or what he was even tattooing. He thanked Merlin for his motor skills because if he was still a rookie, this would end with a lawsuit.
You couldn’t help but notice Mattheo’s heavy breathing so close to your core. It was making you wetter than you ever expected it to. Of course, you were attracted to Mattheo, and with him so close but so far away from fulfilling your fantasies, it was killing you.
The room fell into a comfortable silence as you couldn’t keep your voice leveled anymore and Mattheo kept his mouth closed and his eyes focused on the tattoo. After a few more hours, Mattheo finally finished your tattoo and looked at you proudly.
“It looks good, Princess. I would have never thought to do this if you hadn’t asked.” Mattheo observed it, “I ran out of wrap, so I need to run over to the store to get some. Just give me like 10 minutes, okay?”
You nodded, smiling at him. “Of course, I’ll be here.”
Mattheo winked at you before leaving the shop, locking the door behind him so no one just walked in and scared you. You let out a breath of relief, your hand traveling to your underwear. You hooked your finger around the cloth, pulling it to the side and letting another finger tease your folds. You were soaked.
“How the fuck am I this wet? He didn’t even do anything.” You mutter to yourself. You glanced around the room, sighing softly before dipping two fingers into yourself.
It was probably a terrible idea to finger yourself in Mattheo’s shop and on his tattoo bench, but your desire was stronger than your common sense at that moment.
“F-fuck…” You moaned, keeping up the pace, “Shit, Mattheo.”
You kept going, wanting to reach your climax before Mattheo got back. You picked up the pace of your fingers, now slamming them into yourself. Your moans were loud, and your thoughts were so clouded that all your awareness was thrown out the window.
With your eyes screwed shut, head thrown back, and fingers still buried deep in your pussy, you reached your orgasm. You let out a deep breath of relief as you finished.
“That was a nice show to come back to, Princess.”
You jumped to cover yourself, and widened your eyes, looking at the door where Mattheo leaned against the frame. He had his arms crossed, his muscles flexing and his tattoos moving. Your jaw slacked open as you tried to find any excuse for what he had seen.
“I…. Mattheo, I’m so sorry. I didn’t…. I wasn’t….”
Mattheo sat the wrap down on the table, walking over to you with a smirk plastered on his face. He placed a hand on your leg, moving them apart slowly. You looked between him and his hand, pulling your lip between your teeth.
He bent down to lie between your fully spread legs, groaning at the wetness that he was met with. “Fuck, you wanted me this bad, Princess?”
He took a finger, rubbing it over your clit, adding a small amount of pressure. You let out a whimper, gripping the sides of the bench. “Mattheo….”
“I’ve been wanting to see this pretty pussy for so long. Wanting to hear you moan my name since I’ve heard that beautiful voice of yours.” He looked up at you. “And now you’ve soaked my bench just thinking about me?”
“I didn’t mean to……I just…You were so close that I got turned on.” You whispered, letting out a moan as he dipped his finger into you, pumping in and out of you at a slow pace.
“I’m not mad, Princess.” He kissed your thigh. “I want to hear it again.”
Mattheo dipped his head down, sucking your clit into his mouth as he added another finger inside of you, picking up the pace. Your hands flew to his curls, tangling your hands into them, tugging slightly. Mattheo groaned softly at that, the vibrations sending shivers up your spine.
“Fuck, Matty, Oh my Gods.” You whimpered out. He slid his fingers out and hooked his hand around your thighs, being careful of your tattoo. Pulling you close, he flicked his tongue up and down your clit, letting it occasionally slip into you. You bucked your hips as you felt another orgasm coming. “Matty, I’m about to, fuck, I’m about to cum.”
“Good. Be a good girl for me and cum all over my tongue, Princess.”
You let out a breathy moan, bucking your hips up to grind out your climax on Mattheo’s face. Mattheo chuckled. Standing up, he sunk his fingers into his mouth and sucked your juices off his finger.
“Sweet.” Mattheo smirked at you, “Now c’mere.”
He grabbed the wrap off the table, effectively wrapping your tattoo before pulling you off the bench and to the floor so you were on your knees in front of him. You stared up at him, your eyes wide as your hands trailed up his legs and over the growing bulge in his pants. “Go ahead, pretty girl.” Mattheo’s voice came out soft and demanding. Your fingers fumbled with his belt and zipper, eventually popping open to allow you to tug them down.
Mattheo smirk, moving your hands gently and tugging his boxers and pants down quicker, stepping out of them. He let out a small grunt as he pumped himself slowly, precum already dripping from his tip. He reached his hand out, weaving it into your hair and gripping it from the roots as he pulled your head back. Your mouth fell open, in shock and want, causing Mattheo to smirk down at you. “Look at you, such a needy slut. You want my cock that bad?”
“Yes,” You whined softly, squeezing your legs together, “Please, I want it.”
Mattheo stepped closer to you, causing you to widen your legs a bit. “Don’t go trying to pleasure yourself, Princess. Wait for your turn. Now, open your mouth.” You followed his directions quickly, opening your mouth and sticking your tongue out.
Mattheo groaned at the sight of you being so obedient to him. He slapped his cock against your tongue before pushing his hips forward and jutting his cock into the warmth of your mouth. His body shivered at the moan you released from just having him in your mouth. “This is what you wanted, huh? For me to face fuck you in my shop? Am I making all those dirty little fantasies come true?”
Mattheo moved his hips at a faster pace, slamming in and out of your throat. Your eyes welled up with tears as saliva trailed down your chin and chest. Your mind was dazed as your core got hotter and hotter from the rough actions. Mattheo’s moans were enough to keep you riled up. “You look so fucking pretty, Princess. Choking on my dick, eyes filled with tears from pleasuring me. Fuck, you’re so fucking pretty.”
Your heart leaped at the praises. To make Mattheo feel good and use you in whichever way he wanted is what you desired this entire time. Your endless wet dreams and daydream fantasies were a reality. You felt Mattheo’s thrusts get sloppier and more reckless as he let out a string of curses. “I’m about to cum. I’m going to cum in this slutty fucking mouth of yours.”
He pulled your head closer to him as he released deep down your throat, ensuring that you didn’t waste a drop. He groaned softly, pulling out of your mouth to let you relax. He leaned over, grabbing your jaw to make you look at him. He gently wiped your tears and pulled you in to meet his lips. The kiss was passionate and feverish as he slipped his tongue past your lips. You moaned into it as you stood up, not breaking the kiss.
Mattheo kept one hand on your jaw as he wrapped his arm around your body to roughly palm your ass. He walked you backwards to the tattoo bench, causing you to instinctively jump up on it. Mattheo pulled only an inch away from your lips, mumbling softly to you, “You better stop me now, Princess. If this is something you don’t want….”
“I want it. I want it so bad, Matty. It’s all I’ve thought about since I’ve met you.” You reassure him, your hand reaching down to jerk him off slowly. “I want you. I need you, Mattheo.”
“Fuck, Princess.” Mattheo groaned, kissing you deeply before pushing you on your back and positioning you on the edge of the bench. He lifted one of your legs over his shoulder and wrapped the other one around his waist. Grabbing the shaft of his dick, he teased your folds before pushing his tip into you.
Whimpers fell from your mouth as Mattheo teased you with just his tip. “Matty…. please….”
“You’re so fucking hot when you beg for me.” Mattheo said, sinking into you. He groaned at the warmth and tightness. “So, fucking warm, Princess. Tell me when to go, baby.”
“G-go…. You can go.” You moaned, gripping the side of the bench. Mattheo didn’t waste time to thrust. His slow thrusts didn’t last long because, within seconds, he was pounding into you. Your moans drowned the creaks of the tattoo bench out. “Fuck, Mattheo, feels s’good.” You babbled; your eyes screwed shut in pleasure.
“You’re taking me so fucking well, Princess. Such a good fucking slut, letting me rail you on my tattoo bench.” Mattheo groaned, his hands reaching under your shirt to grope your boobs. “My pretty little slut, aren’t you?”
The touching, the thrusting, and the dirty talk were making your mind fuzzy. Pleasure taking over your body was making it impossible for your mind to string together any type of words. “I asked you a question, Princess, answer me,” Mattheo grunted, taking his hand from under your shirt and moving it to wrap around your throat while leaning forward to plunge deeper into you. You mewled at the feeling, your hand gripping his sides and clawing up his back.
“Y-yes! I’m…. I’m your p-pretty little slut.” You finally pushed out, “Fuck, Mattheo.”
Mattheo left wet kisses down your neck to your collarbone. “I’ve been wanting this for so long. To hear your pretty voice moan my name, to hear you beg for me to fuck you. You’re a fucking dream come true.”
Mattheo moved his hand from your neck to your clit, rubbing it as he continued to fuck you. You whimpered at the overstimulation. “I want you to cum all over my dick, Princess. Make a mess all over me and my tattoo bench.”
You moaned, feeling the growing knot in your stomach as you got closer to your climax. One more thrust from Mattheo had you whining and your legs shaking. Tears pricked your eyes once more as Mattheo kept thrusting and rubbing your clit. “I can’t- I can’t take no more, Matty.” You whined, looking up at him.
“Yes, you can. You can take more until I cum, baby girl. I’m almost there, I’m going to cum in this pretty pussy.” Mattheo said, “Gonna let me breed you, Princess? Fill you up with my seed?”
“Yes, please, cum in me. I want it, I want it so bad.” You babbled.
“Good fucking girl,” Mattheo mumbled, groaning as his thrusts became more erratic. He slammed into you once more, burying himself deep into you as he came in you. He pulled out slowly, grabbing your arm and pulling you up into his chest. “That was amazing, Princess. You’re amazing.” He whispered into your ear.
“Thank you.” You felt a blush rush to your face. “Guess I should go pay now, huh?”
Mattheo chuckled, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “You think you’re paying after all that?”
“It’s only right that I pay you for your work.” You said, your eyes meeting his.
“Trust me, Princess, you’ve paid me with something way more valuable than money.” Mattheo smirked. “And now that’s all I want. I’ll tattoo anything on you for it.”
You blushed, laughing at him. Your heart raced at all the future possibilities with Mattheo.
Today was truly a dream come true.
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springlockscars · 5 months
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oral fixation (w.afton/fem!reader)
pairing: william afton | steve raglan/fem!reader content tags: oral fixation, oral sex, body worship, pussy eating, tongue fucking, praise kink, william can not keep his mouth off you. summary: William has an obsessive habit of chewing and biting things, especially when he's stressed. You interrupt his work at just the right time. word count: 2,898 read on AO3
18+ content below cut. minors do not interact.
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note: I am so glad I received this because I love oral fixation fics.
In public, Steve’s mannerisms, his facial expressions, were a well-rehearsed performance. Not a single person would be able to see the crime scene he cleaned up a week ago through the crease in his eyebrows, or the screams of a victim he still heard ringing in his ears in the way he sipped bitter coffee from a chipped mug; they simply were not there.
No, Steve Raglan was an ordinary guy. A little peculiar perhaps. Sometimes he tried a little too hard to be funny, and that affinity he seems to have for rabbit themed memorabilia could be classed as odd to some. Aside from that, Career Councillor Steve Raglan acted no differently to any other employee in the office.
In private, however, the comfort of his own home or even the privacy the closed door of his office provides, William Afton wore his thoughts externally like he wore the sleeves of his shirt. William would chew on the plastic end of a pen while pouring over a client’s file; agonising over how he was supposed to find suitable employment for a 37-year-old with only a high-school education, a criminal record and a 9-year unexplained gap in his employment history.
He would light up a cigarette or two, rolling the paper filter between his lips, biting it carefully with his teeth while sketching concept blueprints for a new animatronic design, trying to seamlessly integrate a dispenser for a knockout gas that wouldn’t be overtly noticeable.
William would bite his nails and chew his lips when you were out late and not responding to his calls or texts, crashing those worried lips to yours as soon as you’d come through the door. “My phone died and I had to stay late, you don’t have to worry I’m safe.” “All manner of dangerous people are out there,” he sighed your name, “can you use a coworker’s phone to call me if it happens next time? I hate to be sitting on the edge of my seat wondering if someone is hurting my girl.”
It was now that William was deep in thought, a half burned out cigarette resting in between his lips. He was tweaking some finer details on an endoskeleton hand, wanting it to have more precise movements, he had said before heading into his garage workshop. That was over five hours ago and the dinner you decided to make him was almost ready.
You watched him from the doorway. The ashtray showing he was on at least his third cigarette; he was stressed. Stepping over boxes and piles of scrap metal, you made your way over to him, resting a palm flat against his back.
“You’re tense,” you said quietly, smoothing your hand over the expanse of his rigid back.
William leaned into your touch but didn’t stop working. You took the chance to gently work out some of the knots in his muscles while he manipulated the metal on the bench, the cigarette still in between his lips. Watching as he moved it between his teeth from the left to the right side of his mouth, flicking it with his tongue and inhaling deeply.
You moved from behind him to lean on the edge of the desk, facing him now. Mentally crossing your fingers in the hopes he wouldn’t snap at you, you take the cigarette from his mouth, immediately drawing his attention. You raise your eyebrows teasingly, bringing the mauled butt to your own lips to take a drag.
“Dinners almost ready,” you exhale the smoke over your shoulder away from him.
A smirk on his lips, “What time is it?” he asks, placing his tools down and finally sitting up straight to stretch out his aching back muscles, twisting his neck side to side. He takes the endoskeleton hand from the desk and places it gently in a box, moving it to a shelf out of the way for now.
“11:41pm, according to the clock in here,” you inhale one more time, feeling the buzz in your head, before passing it back to William who takes the almost finished cigarette graciously. He seems way more interested in it now that it’s been between your lips.
He leans back in his chair, removing his glasses to rub his fatigued eyes then tossing them on the desk. He places the cigarette back between his lips to take a deep, satisfying drag, then stubs it out in the ashtray next to the rest. William exhales, smoke briefly clouding your vision as he reaches for your hips and pulls you down onto his lap, holding you tightly in his calloused hands. One holding your waist, the other gripping your thigh.
William nuzzles into the curve of your neck, nose and scratchy facial hair tickling your sensitive skin. He smiles when he can feel your heartbeat against his lips. He places a kiss, then two. Tracing the tip of his tongue from collarbone to ear, pressing a kiss in the space behind your ear and sweeping your hair back out of the way. You live for these moments. The way he dotes on you and worships every inch of you like a piece of fine art.
“I’m sorry I was distracted in here. Have I been neglecting my girl?” William nips the lobe of your ear with his teeth, before kissing a path down the juncture of your neck again.
“Could tell you were stressed,” your breathing heavy, “you need a break.”
“Hmm,” he responds against your skin.
He kisses firmer, harder, more intensely until he’s sucking a bruise into the delicate skin. The way you feel against him, the way you taste on his tongue. More, is all he can think, closer…
He swivels in his desk chair and guides you onto the hard wooden surface of his workbench, sweeping nuts and bolts, welded pieces of metal and wires out of the way. Some clattering to the ground, but he doesn’t care about that right now. William stands, his 6ft 4” frame towering over you as he leans down, gripping your waist with both hands, and connects his lips to yours.
You can’t help but moan obscenely into the kiss. The ferocity and desperation of his lips moulding against yours has you instinctively grinding your hips against his. Wiliam deepens the kiss, his hot tongue sliding over yours, exploring your mouth and bending you into submission. The kiss tastes like the tobacco you both shared, giving you the same pleasant buzz. He bites at your plush lower lip, pulling it with his teeth enough to make it to puff up and redden.
William leans back slightly to get a better look at you; your hair dishevelled, lips swollen and glistening, chest rising and falling with ragged breaths.
“So beautiful,” he stoops back down, lips connecting to your jaw before nipping and sucking at the skin of your neck again enough to bruise, traveling down to the collar of your shirt.
William slides his skilled hands underneath the fabric, caressing the skin there up to where he can feel your bra. He pushes your shirt higher, up over your chest, off your shoulders and over your head, paying no mind to where it falls.
Immediately, his lips connect to the soft skin of your breast poking out of the top of your underwear. Biting and sucking hard, desperately needing to touch you, to mark you everywhere his lips will reach. His warm hands snake underneath your back to unclasp your bra. He pulls the elastic straps down your arms and discards the garment on the ground, bending further at the waist to bring a nipple into his mouth.
Your back arches into his touch, one hand gripping the back of his head by his hair, the other finding purchase on the workbench by your head to keep you steady. William sucks and bites down on your nipple, bringing it to a hard peak. He moves all around the soft flesh, nipping and leaving bruises. With no pens to chew on and the cigarettes discarded, your body was his distraction from his frustrations and worries right now. Not that this would be the first time.
William moves across your chest to give your other breast equal attention. He bites down on your nipple hard enough for you to gasp and tighten your grip on his hair. He glares up at you through hooded eyes, not angry, but amused.
Whilst caressing and kneading the flesh of your breasts, he moves lower down your body, nipping at your torso and abdomen, leaving a trail of little red marks as he goes. He teasingly kisses the skin just above the waistband of your trousers. Deciding to speed things up he hooks his fingers into the hem and pulls them swiftly down your legs, leaving you in only your panties on top of his work bench.
William smooths his thumbs over your hips where your underwear sits. Continuing his goal of kissing every inch of you, he presses his lips to your mound, moving lower and lower, until he’s kissing right over your clothed clit.
A rush of adrenaline courses through your body, arching once again into his touch. William, however, moves away from the area you need him most. He sits back down in his desk chair, giving him the perfect angle to place hot, open-mouthed kisses to your inner thighs, marring the area shades of bright red and deep purple with his lips and tongue.
Once he deems your thighs suitably marked, he pushes your legs further apart for him to gain access to the area you both need him the most. William runs two fingers down your clothed slit, a grin forming when he sees your arousal seep through the fabric. He teases you like this; tracing over your clit with his fingers, pushing into your entrance as far as the fabric of your underwear will allow. Watching you squirm on his desk, begging for a release.
William finds himself becoming impatient, biting on the skin of his lips, he needs you in his mouth again like an addict craving a fix. He finally lowers his face back down to your core, running his lips across your clothed mound before, with no warning, biting down in the area he knows your clit will be. You scream and arch dramatically off the desk, a hand coming to grip his hair. He smirks up at you, eyes swimming with lust and feeling pride surge in his chest. Nobody else could make you feel like this. Nobody but him.
William flattens his tongue over your clit through your panties as you come down from the electric jolt of pleasure. His saliva soaking through the fabric to your skin underneath, mixing with your arousal. The material of your underwear becomes smooth under William’s tongue, clinging to every dip and curve of your cunt as his hands grip your thighs tight.
“Oh fuck, Will…” you whined.
He hums against you, sliding closer to the desk on the chair and hooking his thumbs under the crotch of your panties. The cool air making goosebumps spread all over your body as it hits your wet core. William holds the fabric to one side, granting him access to tease your pussy while you writhe and moan beneath him. Noticing your reaction to the cold air of the garage, he blows against your cunt, grinning when he hears pathetic whimpers slip past your lips, and he watches you clench around nothing.
He moves closer and takes the swollen flesh of your labia between his teeth, biting ever so slightly. Just enough to make you squirm and moan his name. William sucks the flesh into his mouth hard enough to leave yet another bruise to match the many others that are scattered all over your body. The rough sensation of his facial hair causing the heat to stir low in your abdomen.
Once a suitable mark has been formed, William shifts his attention slightly higher. Flicking his long tongue over your clit, finally making contact skin-to-skin. One of your thighs rested on his shoulder with his arm wrapped underneath, holding you securely at the hip, with his other arm laying on top of your hips, holding your panties to the side to give him direct and uninterrupted access.
“Oh my god!” your own hands come down to grasp at his, feeling that heat intensifying inside you.
William doesn’t stop for a second. He sucks expertly on your clit until you’re writhing against his face. He moves lower and plunges his long tongue deep inside your tight hole. Your grip on his hands tightens as you arch into his mouth. Your upper arms pressing your breasts together, feeling the tenderness on the skin from the assault he laid into them moments ago.
William loves the way you taste, and he resolves to lap up every last drop of your arousal like it was his final meal on death row. He licks a stripe the entire way up your cunt from entrance to clit, before wiggling his tongue back inside, rhythmically stroking your walls. His breath is hot between your legs.
A sweat breaks out over your skin, you pant desperately as William builds your climax, stroke by tantalizing stroke of his tongue. He grips your thighs hard in his hands, bruising handprints holding them in place on his shoulders as you try to grind down against his face.
He eats you out like a man starved; routinely thrusting his tongue deep inside, moving it to circle your clit, pressing flat and teasing with the tip, biting and sucking intensely on your clit and labia before moving back to fuck you with his tongue — all while his facial hair scratches you so delightfully, only adding to the stimulation.
The heat is intensifying. You can feel your muscles begin to tense, twitching uncontrollably against William’s face as your climax takes over your body.
“A-ah, fuck! Oh fuck, Will!” you cried out, chest heaving as you pant and gasp for air.
William strokes your thighs encouragingly, breaking away from your core for a moment.
“Let go for me, baby. Come for me, that’s it,” he dives back in, coaxing you higher and higher, his nose bumping your clit. He loves hearing you cry and squirm at the mercy of his control.
Everything tightens and tightens, reaching an apex until there’s nowhere left to climb, and then you finally snap. Screaming William’s name as your muscles spasm, jolting your entire body. Your thighs tremble at either side of his head. William grips you tight, rhythmically pulsing his tongue inside and helping you ride out your orgasm. Shocks radiate throughout your body, your abdomen twitching and tensing with every clench of your walls.
William finally pulls back, laying gentle kisses to your inner thighs and caressing over your hip bones with his thumbs affectionately.
“Good girl,” he soothes, “good girl, you did so well for me. So good.”
You lay there completely bare on his desk, eyes closed, breathing deep and feeling light headed as you come down from the intense high he gave you. A smile creeping onto your face and a warmth spreading in your chest at his words of praise.
William takes your thighs from his shoulders, stands, and rests your legs on his desk chair. He presses a brief kiss to your abdomen, then higher in the valley between your breasts, your neck, jaw, then finally pecking your lips before deepening the kiss and allowing you to taste yourself on his tongue. You just begin to run your hands through his hair when he leans back.
“I’ll be right back, okay?” he said.
You narrowed your eyebrows, confused as he stepped away.
“Give me one minute, I’m coming straight back.”
You hear him cross the room in wide strides, then the sound of his footsteps as he ascends the stairs in the house. Only moments later, his footsteps drum down the stairs and enter back into the garage.
William drapes something soft over your body; the blanket from your bed. He helps you sit up and pulls the blanket snug around you, then holds you steady as your legs tremble beneath you when you try to stand.
“Woah, easy. Sit here for a sec,” he guides you to his chair, easing you down into the worn seat.
“Thanks,” you sigh, “that was… intense.”
He leans against the desk facing you, the side of your legs pressed against his, “too much?”
“No! No, definitely not. It was good,” you feel warmth creep up your cheeks.
“Good,” William smiles. He swivels the chair and pulls you against him from where you’re sat, your head leaning against his stomach.
“Did it help?” you ask, looking up at him through your eyelashes, “you’re not biting your lip or lighting up another cigarette.”
He chuckles, “oh, it helped. Definitely way less stressed.”
“Good.”
William cups your face in his palm and leans down to press a soft kiss to your lips.
“C’mon, we should go inside. It’s getting cold tonight,” he says, “and didn’t you say something about dinner?”
William gathers your discarded clothes from the floor and offers you an arm to hold, leading you out of the garage and back into the warmth of the house where luckily, there was no smoke billowing out of the kitchen.
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maapllee · 8 days
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All The Stars~ PT.3
BAKUGOU X SECRET ADMIRER PT.3
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A/N: I love this part n I love writing for y'all, you guys are so sweet. I know I said this part would come out a few weeks ago, but my kitten contacted parvo virus. I hope you guys understand :<
P.S: I'd like to add that one of the next parts will have slightly suggestive themes, nothing too descriptive.
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ALL THE STARS PT.1 | ALL THE STARS PT.2
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You groaned, jolting awake from what you thought was a short nap. The sun was blazing, hot on your skin now. Your head and throat throbbed- you were dehydrated and miserable. Propping yourself up on your elbows, you took in your surroundings.
Bakugou shut the door to his dorm so hard the walls shook. His muscular back rested against the wooden door. He closed his eyes, panting. The book in his hands felt like concrete, heavy and cold. Taking a deep breath, he calmed himself down. Opening the book, he took in the pages- pages and pages of sketches of himself sitting idly in class. He had to admit, you had some real talent there. He looked so calm, taking notes while resting his chin on his palm.
Meanwhile, you pulled your knees towards yourself, taking a minute to recall the past few hours. Eyes widening, you frantically searched around as you remembered you had set your sketchbook down- it would be no short of a disaster if anyone opened that book. Maybe it wasn't THAT great of an idea to carry said book out of your dorm room. Shit. Bakugou pulled Kirishima into his dorm room, his heart beating in his temples now. "Woah, I didn't think L/N would be the one who was putting those gifts in your locker! I can't say I'm surprised though, you guys are so thoughtful with each other." Kirishima nodded. "Thoughtful with wHO, I can't fuckin stand her. She's so annoying and dumb and stupid, almost stupider than Deku." Bakugou shouted, hands on his cheeks.
"Yeah, totes bro." Kirishima deadpanned, patting Bakugou's back. "So, when're ya asking her out? There are a couple good movies in the theatre or that new cafe down the street... We should ask Denki, he looks like the kinda dude to have this kinda experience", Kirishima rambled on and on, which all went over the blond's head, too busy calming the thumping in his chest, his head steaming.
Shaking his head, Bakugou took a deep breath in. "Fuck that, We have training at Ground Beta in half an hour. We'd better start heading over and warming up." Bakugou said, ushering Kirishima out of his room. Closing the door shut, He put his forehead to the cool wood at the thought of facing you at the Ground- knowing you, you must be having a panic attack at the mere thought of your sketchbook being missing- fuck- now that he thought of it, that was fucking selfish of him to do. He wondered if he could slip it into your dorm room while you were on the ground- he could fake an injury or a fever or something, he'd just have to convince Aizawa Sensei. A tough task in itself.
You stood next to Uraraka at Ground Beta. You shifted your weight from one foot to another as your fingers fiddled with your hair, still anxious over how you couldn't find your sketchbook this morning. Bakugou was stretching with the boys in some distance, taking note of how you couldn't hide how anxious you were. Almost in tears, you thought about the possible scenarios. What if someone had taken your book? What if they'd shown Bakugou? What if they'd leaked it all around UA? Your hero career was as good as over.
Aizawa Sensei walked onto the ground, patting your back as he took notice of how down you were. Aizawa Sensei started reading off the pairings for training. You shook your head, taking in deep breaths while steadying yourself to get your head in the game. UA wasn't for the weak and you weren't going to let something as small as this drag you down- they were just sketches and you could always claim the book wasn't yours, un-named as the book was.
"YN/LN and Bakugou Katsuki, please make your way to the centre of Ground Beta."
You physically flinched as you grimaced at the pairing. Uraraka gave you a small push, urging you to step forward. Aizawa Sensei gave you the side eye, wondering what kind of argument you and Bakugou had again, prompting this kind of reaction from you. Little did he know, huh?
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TAGLIST: @lovra974 Thanks so much for keeping up with the series~
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ivy-loves-chocolate · 13 days
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✧˚ · .Painting their portrait ✧˚ · .
Note: I hope everyone is doing well 💖 I hope you will enjoy this as much as I enjoyed writing it 💖 If you want to commission me check my ko-fi and pinned post for prices. Thank you!
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When he found out about your talent, he immediately bought you the most expensive equipment. Whether you like to paint on a canvas or on a graphic tablet, he will buy you only the best products. 
He's very old-fashioned and wants a classic portrait. He'll arrange a proper setting to fit his taste. With a fireplace in the background, an expensive suit, and some other decoration that screams old money, he’ll sit with his legs crossed in his comfy chair while he looks at you. A soft smile would appear on his face, especially when you two locked eyes. You thought about painting that lovely smile and contouring those sweet dimples, but you know him better and chose to leave a stoic expression on his face. His soft side is for your eyes only. 
He won’t mind sitting for hours because he'll have the greatest company. You two will gossip about the hottest tea at work, talk about his latest projects, and besides that, he'll have his romantic moments when he tells you how much he cherishes you. 
The final result leaves him in awe.
"Darling, this is astonishing." He said, amber eyes studying every inch of the canvas and feeling an immense sense of pride washing over him. He couldn't take his eyes off your masterpiece.
"I knew you had it in you," he began after a short period of total silence. "Yet you managed to exceed my expectations."
You breathe a sigh of relief. Even if he was your boyfriend, it was hard to please him. He didn't coddle you, so when he praised you, you knew it was real. 
He will hang that portrait with pride in his office, and he’ll tell everyone with pride that his partner made the incredible art.
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With the corner of his eye, he noticed how you kept shifting your gaze from your notebook to him. Sometimes you'd stare longer at him, and sometimes your hand would go faster and then slower as if you were trying to remember something. Sometimes, you would scratch your head with the pencil and sighed in frustration. 
Whatever you were doodling, it wasn't coming along as you wanted.
Not being able to control his curiosity anymore, he slowly approached your desk. 
"Whatcha doing there?" he asked, looking over your shoulder, directly in the notebook. A wide smile appeared shortly. 
You didn't hide the page in time, and Leon saw the sketches with his face. You drew him from three different angles. Even if you were in a hurry, you still captured his soft features—his genuine smile and his gentle gaze.
"I- uh-I..." you fumbled, hands going in random directions over the paper.
"You don't have to hide it. I think it looks good." He smirked and went back to his desk. 
"Thanks. Listen, I was taking a break, and I felt a bit of inspiration coming in-"
"You don't have to excuse yourself." He chucked and turned to face you. In that moment, you saw a faint blush on his cheeks. "I think it looks great, given how fast you draw."
"And given how much you fidget,"
He chuckled. 
"Seriously, man, lay off that coffee." 
You both laughed, making some people turn their attention to you out of curiosity. A quick glance around, and you quiet down a bit. 
"If you want to finish, I'll try my best to stand still." 
"I would appreciate that." 
You both smiled at each other. Time went by fast, and by the time you finished, the office was empty. None of you felt the time passing by as you got to know each other better. Leon loved his portraits and "stole" your notebook. 
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He loved everything you did. Every gesture, every tic, everything was just perfect for him. 
What he cherished most was your talent when it came to art. Everything you touched turned into a masterpiece, something so beautiful that it can’t be described by a simple man. So, when you wanted to paint him, he looked at you in shock. 
"Me?" 
"Yes, you." 
"Why?" he chuckled. 
"Because I want to. And because I want an excuse to stare at your picture for hours while you are away on missions." 
He pulled you closer and placed a gentle kiss on your forehead. 
"Alright. Make sure to highlight my good side." 
"As if you have a bad one." 
Despite loving how affectionate and supportive you were with him, he never understood why. He viewed himself as a rough, cranky man who got on everyone's nerve. For short, an asshole. But to you, he wasn't like that. Despite the hardships in his life, he still maintained a soft gaze. 
Naturally, he wondered why you wanted him to be part of your beautiful portfolio. And more importantly, did he deserve to be part of it?
For the next couple of days, he waited for you to finish. He would peek in your room to see the progress, but you didn't let him. You wanted to surprise him.
When he came back from his mission, arriving in your comfy apartment, you shoved your art in front of his face. 
"Do you like it?" you asked excitedly.
He reluctantly took the canvas and stared at it for a few seconds. It's not that he didn't like it. It's the fact that he didn't recognize himself. His scars weren’t so prominent, his eyes weren't so full of sadness and anger, and his lips were curved in a soft smile. His features were softer, friendlier, even. 
“This… I know it’s me, but it feels like I’m looking at a stranger.”
"Why do you say that?”
“It feels like you retouched my face.”
“Hmm, no, this is how you look in real life. You're not as tough-looking as you think."
He loves it regardless, and he loves you even more. 
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His muse in this life was you. Every time he looked at you, every time he saw your pretty face, his mood would lighten up in a heartbeat. A catastrophe at the moment would turn into something insignificant, something he could overcome with ease.
What he loved most about you was your talent. He was amazed at the beautiful things you could create with your hands, unlike him. He found refuge in your art, staring at your finished and unfinished projects for hours.
"Mi dulzura, what masterpieces are you creating?"
"Thank you, mi rey. Wanna be part of them?"
He smiled. He approached you with light footsteps, rubbing your shoulders gently when he reached your back.
"I'd be honoured."
He was thrilled. Being fascinated by your talent, he wanted to ask you long ago, but he didn't want to overcrowd you as you had many projects and clients. He didn't want to put more pressure. He simply told you that he doesn't want anything fancy.
He waited every day for you to finish, barely containing himself from asking dozens of questions. You had to kick him out multiple times from your room because you wanted to surprise him.
"Luis," you called out, "it's done!"
He came in a hurry, and as expected, he loved the result. He wouldn't stop praising you for creating another masterpiece.
"This is...I have no words. It's simply stunning."
"Well, you are stunning," you said, wrapping your arms around his neck.
"I guess I really am your Prince Charming."
You chuckled and were ready to say something, but he caught your lips in a quick, gentle kiss.
From that moment on, he becomes your one and only muse. You'd paint him in various poses and various clothes, sometimes with you as well. He would sit near you, watching you do your magic without saying a word. He loves and respects what you do a lot. 
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Text
An Odd Request
Steve Harrington x Fem!Reader
Word count: roughly 1K
Steve’s wife goes to the gym and makes an odd request when she arrives home. 
Warnings: sorta NSFW (mdni), use of Y/N, terms of endearment (baby).
Author’s note: This is just fluffy Steve and was written directly after I got home from the gym needing this man and a very specific kind of cuddling so…here it is! Short and sweet and very silly. Hope y’all enjoy! 
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It was a quiet Saturday morning in the Harrington household. Steve was the only one home, having a few hours on his own as Y/N went to meet her personal trainer. She had been seeing a trainer for a while as she, quote on quote, wanted “to be able to carry all the groceries in a single trip all by myself.” A noble and worthy cause in Steve’s eyes and yet as long as he was around, she’d never have to lift a finger. He was more than content to show off his own strength for her enjoyment…and yet wished to support her in any and all of her goals so off to the gym she had gone. As such, he had the home to himself for a few hours, a chance to get some work done. 
He had spent most of the morning thus far drinking his coffee and sketching up new basketball drills and formations for the middle school team he coached. He finally understood exactly what Hopper had meant all those years ago about “coffee and contemplation” finding more and more that the man’s wisdom was never ending the older he got. We’ve gotta tighten up their current formations, he thought as the TV played some mindless sitcom in the background while he chewed on the end of his pencil. His mind looked over the squiggles on the paper in front of him trying to decide how to fix this. It had been weeks since they had won a game and morale was dropping fast. Jamie has to pass more but Donovan can’t really shoot…maybe if we move Paul to center and then swap Jordan and Cole we could-
The man wasn’t given another moment to think as he heard the front door open and close with a loud slam, the sound of feet padding their way down the entry hallway. 
“Hey, baby!” Steve called as he continued to focus on the squiggles, drawing a few more lines before erasing them with equally as much vigor, “How was the gym?” A loud groan was all he received in reply as his wife dropped her bag to the ground and kicked off her tennis shoes, not even bothering to put them in the basket where she knew they belonged. The same basket she insisted his shoes lived in but rules didn’t apply to her, at least not right now. I’ll tease her about it later. “That good huh?” He called with a low chuckle as he ran a hand through his hair, “Well your protein shake is in the fridge. Should be cold enough since I put it in when you left.” Oddly enough, the man received no response. He waited a moment before he called again, looking up from his work.
“Bab-” And just like that she was in front of him. He jumped and let out a quiet swear as he clutched a hand to his chest. He hadn’t seen her before she had left and found himself taking a sharp inhale as he looked her up and down. She looked so fucking gorgeous in those tight black leggings that fit her just right, a simple white workout top, hugging her every curve, and the expensive black workout jacket he had saved up to get her for Christmas that she never left for the gym without. Not to mention the way her hair looked post-workout and the glow of sweat that radiated off of her. He was about to open his mouth to make some lewd remark he hoped she’d find charming but-
“Hold my tits.” The man blinked once, then again, his mouth open and gaping like a fish. 
“W-what?” 
“I want your hands on my tits,” Y/N repeated, holding his gaze with complete and utter seriousness, “Please.” 
“Like…you want my…”
“Your hands. On my tits. Now.” When the man continued not to move his wife let out a deep sigh and took the pencil from his hand, laying it down next to his sketch as she replaced it with something much better. She led his large palm gently to her breast, letting out a sigh of relief as she encouraged him to give a little squeeze. Again, Steve didn’t even know what to do, never having seen her like this. Sure, she was usually a little more cuddly and blissed out after the gym as the endorphins ran through her body but this was…new. A good kind of new. 
“So I take it you had a good time at the gym?” The man teased breathlessly as he ushered her around the coffee table to sit beside him on the couch. The woman let out a hum in confirmation as she laid down so they were pressed together, her back to his front, and wrapped his arms around her so his hands could live right where she needed them to. Another chuckle came from Steve as he buried his face into her hair finding-
“Did you put on perfume?” 
“After working out,” she whispered as her eyes closed shut in complete and utter satisfaction, being held just the way she needed to be right now, “Didn’t want to come home smelling only like sweat.”
“I don’t mind,” Steve used his nose to brush the hair from the side of her neck, making her giggle as he pressed mindless kisses there, “I smell like sweat all the time and you still love me.” 
“I do,” Y/N titled her head so he could press a kiss to her lips, one she returned eagerly before laying her head back down on the couch, “Fuck, I’m never doing the Stairmaster ever again.” 
“Y/N, baby, if this,” Steve gave her tits a little squeeze to punctuate his thought, “is what happens after you’re on the Stairmaster, by all means, keep doing it. Any excuse to cuddle with my pretty little wife and hold her boobies is more than fine by me.” 
“Don’t call them that,” Y/N scrunched her nose with a chuckle as she pressed her ass more into him to fit them closer together. 
“What?” The man teased giving another squeeze, “Boobies?” 
“STEVE!” The couple dissolved into a communal fit of giggles as they lay there together, all stress and strain completely forgotten as calm domesticity filled their hearts and home. 
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devilmayfamily · 1 year
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Can I request a shy S/O who has a crush on Vergil/Dante/V and they draw the boys secretly in their sketchbook with little notes like "saw him in those dark blue jeans again he's so beautiful" or "how do I tell him I love him?" etc. The boys stumble upon this and they're so flattered they blush to their chest.
Why is this literally me lol. Hope you enjoy!
Dante
Your sketchbook was filled with sketches of him mostly during training since it was the only time his focus couldn't ver towards you at any given moment
You've indirectly gotten better at drawing action poses and the male torso because of this and the fact that this man goes full Grey Fullbuster and takes off his shirt to train
The other time you're able to draw him is when he's asleep, a magazine covering his face
One particular position you found him laying in had you write a note of "Idk how he's sleeping like this" next to the sketch of it.
Dante has noticed you with this sketchbook and hadn't thought anything of it until he realized he never sees you drawing him in it
His curiosity got the better of him one day and decides to take a look while you left it unattended.
The first few pages were as he expected, sketches of Shadow when she was around, the girls of the team, and even some of the orphanage kids playing from when you would visit Nero and Kyrie
Towards the middle of the book, he found all the sketches of him you'd been hiding
He looks over every single one and reads all the little notes you've left behind
He finds the whole idea of you sketching him cute and endearing
Seeing a particular sketch of him asleep, face facing you, with the note "He looks like he gives nice cuddles" has his face a flame, red tracing all the way down his neck
You drew this scared up man so soft, it was like he was looking at someone else
Vergil
You find going unnoticed by Vergil to be easy
He's always either reading or beating up Dante when not on missions
Vergil finds your sketchbook when he mistakes it for his collection of poems on a particularly sleepy morning
Opening it, he's taken back by all the drawings
It's obvious you have some skill
As he turns the page, he finds an entire spread dedicated to him reading
At the very bottom of the page it reads "he's always reading this thing, i wonder what secrets it holds"
Vergil softly smiles, a faint heat resting across his cheeks wondering if he could share a piece of himself with someone again
He was ready, wasn't he?
Flipping the page he finds a spread dedicated to him cooking, fighting, even simply being dressed up in a suit
"I'll admit, he's sexy in a suit"
Vergil's face sets a flame, the man shutting the sketchbook and replacing it finally with his poems
You become curious by the new sets of suits in the coming days but never complain
V
Griffon stole the sketchbook when you left it unattended
He scolds the bird for digging in your private processions but with a little coaxing from Griffon he looks inside
He's not surprised to see sketches of Shadow and Griffon, the bird boasting about how good he looked
As he turns the page, Griffon teases him for the bright pink blush that spreads across his face upon seeing sketches of himself
"My beautiful muse" is written in a beautiful cursive next to a sketch of V smiling
He flips the page expecting to find something different but it's more drawings of him
"May he ever know how he sets my heart a burning"
V can't help but adore you right then
He smiles, closing the sketchbook as you approach
He looks up to you, his smile causing one to spread across your own face
Griffon makes some comment about leaving you two to it before disappearing
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answer2jeff · 3 months
Text
not a lot, just forever.
carmen's opening up, but he wishes you'd do the same.
warnings: fluff + angst. fem!reader who is also a big reader (mostly poetry) and occasionally journals. unestablished relationship (friends to lovers, mutual pinning.) very touchy-feely. writing is overly detailed and so painfully poetic you might vomit.
word count : 2.4k
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hey. i think i left my book at ur place. 11:15pm.
sorry, just got home. i can bring it over now 11:36pm.
oh yeah that'd be great! thank you. (sorry for the inconvenience) 11:38pm.
no worries 11:41pm.
lmk when ur here. xx 11:45pm.
Carmen had some idea of what that meant: xx. He knew what it meant when girls signed notes with xoxo in replacement of red kiss marks and strokes of long acrylic nails through their secret lovers hair—not that he ever received one, no. But your occasional visits practically felt just as intoxicating. If the order was x-o-x-o, and the worded statement being hugs-and-kisses, then xx must've been hugs, right? Two hugs. Like the one you shared the first time you met at Natalie's baby shower. He smelled like authentic Italian cologne with a hint of cigarette smoke diluted by dish soap and warm water. His grasp was hesitant, but ever-all-consuming once his shoulders relaxed. It was like metamorphosis. The way he wrapped his arms underneath while you tossed yours up around his neck, his gold chain feeling cold and hard against your skin, unlike the rest of him.
He was an under-hugger. He kept the ones he cared for unsuspectingly close to him. Such physical touch felt familiar. Maybe you'd just remembered stories and inside jokes about him through Natalie so well his tenderness and anxious nature was fitting to the idea of him you had in your head.
That was almost 6 months ago. And surprisingly, you'd become pretty good friends. Not that either of you really did friends at your age...but somehow it worked. You'd come to realize that he was so much kinder than anyone painted him out to be. And yet, you never really talked about yourselves.
Not in a way that really mattered, anyway.
The articles you'd written, the interviews you conducted with snobby assholes, the dozens of freelancing jobs with horrific schedules you had before, what you loved about writing and what you hated about the world around you—those were topics of discussion. Carmen's favorite restaurants he ever expanded his career with, the odd relationship he had with his sister that flipped like a rusty switch after highschool, candle scents he loved and bought over and over again despite their poor quality wicks, the first time he got drunk and how he swore he'd never let another drop of alcohol touch his tongue—those were normal methods of late night conversations.
But what about your dream to publish a novel? Or the memoir you read that completely changed your views on love as a whole. What about Carmen's uncle being his only friend his entire life? Oh, how he would've become a starving, broken artist if he ever believed he had enough talent for it. Hell, what about the girl you met in middle school who mysteriously moved away and shared all her secrets on the true meaning of life, death, and everything in between? Why didn't you ever talk about those things? Maybe it was too close, too personal. If he knew you too well, maybe he'd see you as you saw yourself.
Carmen had been thinking about those colored pencils you bought him for his birthday and can't get himself to tell you he uses them every day. Not just to illustrate his dishes...but you, sometimes. Your hair, your smile. He used that photo you begged him to snap of you staring out your window melodramatically with a bowl of pasta carbonara and a glass of bubbling champagne in front of you as reference. How could he ever show you the endless amount of pages containing the essence of your existence in that goddamn sketch book?
Questions. Questions. Questions.
Thoughts of potential ate away at your patience with every pacing step you took around your bedroom.
Answers. Answers. Answers.
"Do people even have deep conversations over pasta and wine anymore?" You trace the pad of your middle finger against the rim of your glass, your elbow propped up on the counter so your chin can rest in your hand.
Carmen draws his eyebrows together, the little crinkle in his forehead showing. You glance up at it and struggle to stifle a growing smile. He cocks his head before barring his bottom lip behind his teeth, picking at the skin with the tips of his fingers. That signature pose; where his left arm is crossed against his chest and his hand holds the elbow of his right arm. It's a habit you almost immediately picked up on. It told you time and time again that he was nervous.
Thinking. Contemplating.
"Is that, like—" he breaths a chuckle, but it comes out more as an accidental huff than anything. Smug bastard, he is. Especially when he drags his gold chain across his neck as it loops around the finger that once picked at the dry skin of his mouth.
"Your way of..asking me for a deep conversation over wine and pasta?"
Ah. He's called you out. The one thing he couldn't shake was his annoyance when you were so completely and utterly vague about your wants, your needs, your desires. Hell, Carmen Berzatto would wrap a lasso around the moon, or any planet you put your claim on, and drag it down so it could be yours and only yours. Only if it meant you'd stop feeling so complacent. You knew this. At least to some extent. His little favors buttered you up until you a mushy mess of adoration. What really scratched at your urges and your patience was how blissfully unaware he was of his show of affection toward you. Part of you feared that if you ever told him how much it caressed that bruised, fruit fly infested, rotted spot of your heart so gently it felt like a kiss, despite the sting, he'd stop.
"Y'know what? Yeah. I'm asking."
You shrug your shoulders and stare down at your nearly finished bowl of penne with vodka sauce. Stabbing a stack of pasta onto your fork and the clinking sound of the metal banging against the ceramic bowl seemed to fill the silence before Carmen finally spoke again, though with much hesitation.
"Okay," he barely whispers, nodding his head and fumbling to take a seat in the barstool underneath the counter. Sitting across from you gives him the constant justification to just look at you.
Starting off this session with a question was quite a kicker.
"Y'know Sade Zabala? Author of that book you brought back for me."
Carmen blinks slowly. He pretends to dig deep in his memory to identify the name, wondering if you'd ever mentioned her. But he fails, pulling his lips taught, so as to say 'I've got nothin.' The sound of your dramatic sigh and the 'tsk' sound of your lips separating makes his palms sweat.
"She's a wonderful writer. A poet. I mean, really, her book Coffee and Cigarettes was one of the most gut-wrenchingly beautiful and altruistic collections of.. of love, pain, rejuvenation—all of it."
If he was completely honest, he doesn't have a clear image of what those words meant. But it doesn't seem to matter what comes out of your mouth or how you phrase it. Your use of specific language fascinates him. There is nothing else he can do in this moment but nod and allow the corners of his lips to curl into a smile strong enough to make the apples of his cheeks go pink.
"I'll tell you one line of one of the greatest poems she had ever written in that book. In the humble opinion of yours truly, of course."
"Sure," he assures you. "Of course, of course."
"Tell me every terrible thing you ever did, and let me love you anyway."
Saliva pools in your mouth as you speak the quote, the taste of every vowel washing down your throat as if you dedicate them to Carmen himself. Which, in bare and naked truth, you do. The only thing you could ever ask of Carmen was to let himself tear himself open with the hope and belief that you would crawl into his fears and convert them into profound discoveries. And the trust that you would not stitch him up with your own hands, but rather clasp your fists around the circumference of his wrists as he carefully closes the wound his trajectory of life has created.
"Wow." Carmen's eyes go another centimeter wider, the language still processing in his mind. He interprets it over and over again.
"I know. And—" you set your fork down so you can have complete focus as you recite your following question, "I was just wondering what you'd say if someone told you that, y'know? What would you tell them?"
Vulnerability, he thinks. Fuck.
"I mean...fuck that's—that's a good question. Um.." he chews on the flesh of his bottom lip once again, looking above at the warm glow of the light that hangs over your island counter as if he'll find the answer up there.
"I don't even like the good stuff about me, so. I'm not sure how to, like, articulate that? Is that the word?"
Now the quickening pace has started.
"And what do you think the good stuff about you is?"
Probing questions like this are somewhat too-close-for-comfort inquiries for friends. But Carmen would be stupid to mind it. He relishes in it, actually. With much guilt. But it's tainted with the secret pleasure of being cared for by someone he so deeply valued the opinions and thoughts of.
Since the first day you met, Carmen knew he would never go to anyone else for some piece of mind. For some sanity. Or even just for someone to explain the method to his madness. You understood it—what he believed.
"I care a lot, I think. But that's not always practical. It hardly ever is now that I think about it."
"You do. You care so much." You soften your tone, hesitantly reaching for Carmen's tattooed hand that rests on the cold marble counter.
"Sometimes it freaks me out."
"Like, this whole thing, the—the restaurant, where my life is right now, it makes me crazy. But it also keeps me..."
"Human," you finish.
"Yeah, human."
Though it takes him a couple seconds for his digits to not second guess themselves, he gently takes your hand in his. The slow pace in which he intertwines his fingers with yours is enough to kill you.
"Can I tell you something?" Carmen asks.
"Anything."
"You take good care of me. Of everyone, really." . His thumb gently rubs your warm skin, the rough and calloused mounds over his fingerprints soothing you. A deep breath moves in and out from his lungs as he meets your eyes again. This time, he won't look away.
"It's like you were made to just be good."
You smile, but you're not convinced you're certain on what he means. "Thank you, Carm. But—good?"
"I don't know. You're warm. I'm—I'm not like that. I'm not warm."
This, this is where truths as bare as untraveled paws of loyal dogs that roamed the streets in search of security uncover themselves.
"What? Of course you are." You lean forward, feeling your heart pound so hard it could leap out of your body.
"I don't think I am."
To think—no, to know that Carmen Berzatto cannot share at least one feature of his layered soul he genuinely likes. God, that pains you. You could write a million sonnets listing every little thing you adored about your friend.
"Carmen, you—" you sigh, your head dropping for a fraction of a second. "You have such a big heart. You're not cold or...or out of reach, or anything like that, okay?"
Even with Carmen's tendency for rage and his tattoos that displayed yet another callback to his culinary career—his way of speaking: so gentle and unsupported, you're certain that he is something so much greater than just a chef. He took care of people too. His staff, his clientele, his family—of you. Whether it was home cooked meals when you were sick, or when you needed to complain about Natalie. Carmen listened. Not as her brother, but as your friend. You don't really remember when you started to regularly see each other during his leisure. Either at the restaurant, or a coffee shop next door to your complex, and eventually his living room.
"This is so fucking selfish, but—"
No, Carmen. You could never be selfish.
But you let him be hungry. You want him to be hungry. Starving for reassurance. Because you'll feed him until the empty space in his existence is filled.
"I just wish you'd look after yourself the way you take care of me. Like, fuck, hearing you look at yourself and point out all this shit that nobody notices—which I wish they fucking would—because I notice them and I still love those things about you is..."
Oh, what a beautiful mind you've always had. He'll always store all the love you can't have for yourself in his own heart. Your wit, your intelligence, your smile, even down to the way you have to readjust the grip of your fountain pen as you inscribe your thoughts into your journal
"Wrong." He completed his thought with just one word. "I don't like it. It makes me sad," he says again.
That breaks you. So much that a tear sure to be followed by many more wells up in your waterline. The glisten of the salty liquid in your eyes startles the wonderful man across you. You can see the immediate guilt in his face, his blue eyes filled with concern and regret. But you shake your head, holding onto his forearm as he raises his hand to your cheek to catch the falling tear. Fuck being friends. Fuck small talk. Fuck jokes and laughs and cigarettes and poor communication that just ended in silence.
This was here and now. There was no going back.
With that, you cupped Carmen's own cheek, leaning closer and closer to his lips before he desperately kissed you. His free hand anchored itself on your shoulder blade while yours crawled to the back of his head to burry itself in his golden curls. Your taste was everything. Salty with pasta with a sweet aftertaste that echoed from your fruity lip balm, followed by a final twinge of bitterness from your glass of red wine. He tasted of comfort, of acceptance, something you'd never felt against your tastebuds from the previous years of the dating pool. With every separation of your lips to swallow gasps of air, the further the two of you hovered over the counter in a needy attempt to get closer.
You didn't need answers. Not a lot from him either. Just him. Forever.
tags: @lemmejustpulloutmylightsaber @sexyyounglatinoboy @febris-amatoria @diorrfairy
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queenie-avenue · 3 months
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I love the ceo/Adrian but can you do one of a yandere reader like you did for academic rival.
Pretty please 🥺
A Gentleman's Confrontation.
💌 ⤻ THE CEO, ADRIAN HOUDE
—> you're a creep, he's obsessed; a matchmade in hell!
⤻ reader is gender neutral, possessive thoughts, obsessive thoughts, crimes against the reader, invasion of privacy, typical yandere behaviour, filming without consent
notes: all ya'll are little creeps but i love all of you. thank you for saying please, anon. mwah!
🦋 ⤻ archives.
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You had been obsessed with Adrian Houde since the moment you heard him compliment your name. Your heart practically swelled each time he came to check in on the fashion department, always managing to catch his eye and smiling at him shyly. You even went into his office a few times — unaware he was the one who personally requested you — to present the pitches for fashion shows and the budget needed for your department despite it being out of your pay grade.
You did it all so you could see his face.
So you could look into those hypnotising hooded blue eyes of his, so cold you could almost die from hypothermia when you stare at them.
Still, you always stared.
It started off as a little crush. You finding him attractive — who didn't, really — and unconsciously drawing him in your many sketches as a model.
Then, it turned a little crazy.
You started nabbing a few things each time you went into his office. A pen, a tie he abandoned on the chair, a crumpled buck that you saw him touch. It was all yours for the taking.
Still, you kept a distance from Adrian, ensuring he would never take things too personally. After all, he was the most eligible bachelor perhaps in the whole world, and you were just some low-level intern who didn't even get paid well enough to be in his tax bracket. So while you were delusional, you kept that side of you to yourself.
Till you were caught, of course.
✧ Ƹ̵̡Ӝ̵̨̄Ʒ ✧
Adrian's blue eyes pierced into yours as both of his hands pinned you against the wall. His blonde hair tousled, framing his face perfectly. If not for the tense situation, you would have thought whether he had a hairstylist that did all this work for him or whether he was just that good.
“I've been watching.” His voice, clear as his icy gaze, spoke out. “Did you know there's a camera in this office?” He refrained from telling you about the cameras he planted at your desk.
“Oh.” Was the only thing you could say as your eyes went down to his lips, guilty of lusting for him, even now.
“I could get you fired for this.” He whispered, pursing his perfect lips as he leaned closer to you, head going down to your neck, to savour the taste of your scent. His nose grazing against your neck as you groaned. “Just what were you thinking?” He whispered, hot breath hitting your neck as he gazed at you. “It's like you're giving me permission to…” He didn't dare finish his sentence as you stayed there, pinned against the wall.
Knowing that you were just like him, that you liked to rummage through his things like he did to your desk when night fell; were you trying to kill him? He was a gentleman, he was taught to always be a good man to anyone he was romantically interested in, to be cordial and kind but you doing that just made him want to lock you up. You doing that was like you giving subtle confirmation you wanted him too, no? “I'm trying to be good for you.” He breathed out, one of his arms going down to your waist.
His eyes met yours and you swore you saw tears in his eyes. “I really like you, [y/n].” He confessed suddenly, causing your eyes to widen.
Of all the people you would have thought would have a crush on you in the office, it was the head honcho himself. The one you stole things from, the one who stole your heart.
“Those things you did, the things I saw in my camera… does that prove you like me too?” He felt himself cringe at his words, feeling like a high school student confessing to his crush. “Please tell me that's a yes, I've been waiting so long just to- just to-” Just him speaking was enough to drive your breath away. He was breathing heavily too, like being in your presence banished all thoughts of oxygen away from his mind; his brain focusing on you and only you, prioritising you over oxygen.
“You have to say yes.” It was like in that brief moment, the gentleman you had always know Adrian Houde to be suddenly disappeared, his warm blue eyes filled with frightening obsession.
“Say yes. Please. I won’t let you out of this office till you say yes.” Well, that certainly tempted you to not say anything. Being able to be trapped between his arms was like a dream come true, but you also desperately wanted him to be aware of your feelings.
“Yes. I like you too, I love you.” You stumbled over your words.
“Are you sure that’s what you want to say?” He asked.
You felt a sense of dread travel through your bones at his inquiry, forcing you to rethink your answer. However, your answer was clear as day, he wanted you and you wanted him. “Yes. I’ve been obsessed with you since the moment we met at that office.” You confessed.
Adrian’s eyes widened as he realised that you — his sweet intern, the light of his life — was also the same as him. No, you would never be the same. You would never be as unhinged as he would be for you. You had no idea just how crazy he was for you.
He could list down all the crimes and perverse things he did for you against his own morals.
He had stolen your notebook and scanned it just so he could fixate on your handwriting, he had installed a hidden camera under and on your desk just to see how your body moved, he had investigated every part of you to the point he could recite the measurements of your body from his mind. You would never be as crazy as he was for you, but it felt good to know you thought you were.
“Confirm it again.” He said, his gravelly voice turning cold like the times you had heard him talk during meetings; the perfect businessman. “If you do, I want to let you know that you won’t be able to leave my side. Even if you wanted to.”
You didn’t take his words seriously.
“I’m not playing, sir.” God, he loved it when you called him sir. “I really… do like you.”
He snapped and grabbed your waist and pulled you up, slamming your cute little butt onto his desk. “I hope you won’t regret this.” Adrian whispered as he ran a hand through his golden-blonde hair, another hand reaching for his tie and loosening it in a way that made your mouth water. "Because I'll make sure you fall so deeply in love with me we'll go tumbling to hell."
You didn’t even realise he was so close until it was too late and his lips claimed yours.
The kiss was sloppy and desperate, his tongue overlapping yours in a sensual dance. He licked your lips, you bit his, your tongues explored each other needily. His palm on the back of your head, holding you in place so you could not escape. Slowly, his lips descended down to your neck, hungrily licking and biting as you let out breathy gasps.
“You won’t be able to leave me after this. I need to take responsibility, and you do too.”
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odoraful · 3 months
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Heart Grow Fonder
following a long trip in liyue, you return to mondstadt to reunite with a certain blonde alchemist.
word count: 961 a/n: speaking of characters who haven't shown up in a while (ノД`) i thought i'd write a reunion scene to manifest his return, hoyoverse, the people need him back! i hope you have a lovely day/night!
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A sudden breeze picked up as you walked up the rickety wooden steps of Stone Gate towards Mondstat. It felt cool on your skin, providing a needed respite against the midday sun. The wind tousled your hair before subsiding, leaving it laying at an awkward angle. You chuckled, brushing it out of your face. Must be telling me to hurry up, then. You thought. In the City of Wind, the breezes seemed to have agendas of their own. Interpreting this as their playful welcome to your arrival, you quickened your pace.
There was an invisible thread always drawing you back to this city, no matter how far you travelled. It was tied inextricably to the sense of comfort and warmth you associated with it. Leaning on the wooden railing lining the boardwalks of Stone Gate, you saw the very person who tugged at that tenderness in your heart. The blonde alchemist had his sketchpad out, glancing between the page and the railing opposite him. You saw a small bird perched on it. It flittered its wings every so often, and you saw his eyes widen at the movement. You slowed your gait, hoping to not scare it away. However, the bird turned its head at your arrival and flew upwards in your direction. Albedo’s eyes followed where it had flown, landing upon you. 
Albedo had spent the weeks of your absence at his campsite. This was the first time that you weren't just a day's trip away in the city, or even by his side. In those early days following your departure, he swore he saw phantom images of you. Sucrose would notice Albedo’s eyes linger on empty spaces around the campsite. When she asked, he would reply that it was nothing and continue his work. However, in the corners of experimental notes, Sucrose curiously found sketches of you. She counted them. There was one with your arms folded, a playful expression on your face. Another was you taking a curious peek at an alchemical substance. She spotted one more of your side profile staring up at a twinkling sky. Although Albedo was used to setting distances between people, it was different with you. Alone without you felt… emptier. Idle moments when he drew his favourite expressions of you could only briefly fill that emptiness. 
You covered your hands over your mouth. “I’m so sorry Albedo!” You rushed over to meet him. 
Cocking his head to the side, he pouted a little. “I didn’t expect the first words I’d hear from you to be an apology. What for?”
“I made too much noise coming over to you and I scared the bird away,” you said, sheepishly. 
Albedo shook his head, his expression remaining composed. “It’s alright. The bird had stayed its course and coincidentally flew away at the same moment as your arrival. Besides, I had already finished my sketches.” 
He noticed the dejected look still on your face. This certainly wouldn’t do for your reunion; he had to find a way to cheer you up. He flipped through his sketchbook, opening to the most recent page. You peered over for a better look. The sketches were strikingly true to life. Albedo had even drawn sequences of the bird fluttering its wings which were overlaid on top of one another. The resulting effect gave the illusion that the bird was moving on the page. 
“The bird is known as an emerald finch. It’s one of the rarer finch species, known for its blue-green coloured plumage, like a jewel.” 
You inspected the drawing closer. “Ah! I thought it looked familiar. I always saw a few of these birds gathering in the plazas in Liyue.”
Albedo nodded. “Yes, emerald finches are predominantly found closer to Liyue Harbour. However,” he took up his charcoal once again to scribe the date down in the bottom corner of the page, “this little one happened to find its way to me.” He met your eyes and smiled. “It’s quite adorable, isn’t it?” 
During your travels, you remained patient. You counted the days until your return, but never let your wish impede the work needed to be done in Liyue. You both made sure to write letters to each other each week, but despite the regular correspondence, it was only now you realised just how badly you missed him. Letters weren’t nearly enough. You couldn’t feel his calming presence, see that fond smile, hear him casually talk about, well, just about anything. 
Not letting a second more waste, you threw your arms around his torso. The position was certainly a little awkward. You had hugged him on his side, himself still holding his sketchpad.  
“Dearest, hold on.” Albedo murmured. He quickly tucked his sketchpad away in a pocket on the inside of his coat. Releasing your arms from him, he turned to face you properly and circled your arms around his waist once more. “There, that’s much better.” 
You buried your face against him and he reached a hand to stroke your hair. 
“I missed you.” Your voice was muffled against his clothes. Albedo could still make out the slight waver in your tone. He breathed deeply. A wholeness surged within him as he heard those words, and felt you tangibly in his arms at last. 
The winds had been still up to this moment. They knew well enough to respect the privacy between lovers. 
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EPILOGUE
“Are these little drawings of... me?” You were flicking through his notes relating to his latest project when you saw sketches of, undoubtedly, yourself. 
Albedo faced away from you, busying himself with collecting random papers on the table and putting them in a neat stack. The action held no practical purpose, but it did help to hide the bashful look on his face. 
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strangemagicc · 6 months
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Muse | Part Two
masterlist | <prev
pairings: modern!artist!Eddie x fem!Reader, classmates to lovers
summary: Eddie invited you to his studio for a private session.
warnings: smut, oral (reader and Eddie receiving), fingering, p in v, creampie, ass play (no penetration), slight dom!Eddie
author's note: I know this is shorter but, hear me out, there's going to be a part three! this particular part had been on my mind since I wrote part one and I was really excited when it came together. I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I did writing it. Comments / reblogs are always appreciated (seriously) 🖤
w/c: 3.3k
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Rain cascaded against the windows, fat drops that hit the glass windows in small thuds. Eddie’s studio was cold, autumn air creeping through the cracks of the walls in the renovated warehouse he rented. His breath was warm against your skin coming out in even exhales as he blew against your flesh.
“You know when I said to paint me like one of your French girls I didn’t quite mean this,” he smirked at your comment, face trained on the lines he traced against your skin. You watched him, his face etched in stern lines that made him look older.
“You’re so serious,” you dropped your voice low, mocking and silly. He stilled, brown eyes looking up at you from where he knelt and you chuckled at him, reaching out to rub against his jaw. He nipped at your hand, a playful smile painting his features.
“You need to stay still,” he chided softly, voice even. Professional. You withdrew your hand and relaxed your face into neutrality, breath held as he brushed paint against your thigh. A mix of scarlet and lavender bright against your flesh. Your eyes roamed around the room, to the exposed brick walls and the canvases that lined them, some were blank and others completed works. Eddie’s style varied from abstract to expressionist. Frenzied lines and vivid colors. The painting of you, the lines of your hips and the curve of your breasts, was bordering fauvism. The colors were vibrant and beautiful. Unnatural in their depiction of your frame. They spoke of the feelings Eddie had when he saw you and painted you for the first time. You wanted to ask him about it, what he was thinking, and what the varying hues were meant to represent. If your interpretation of the piece was what he was trying to convey but you held your tongue, it still felt too soon to ask how he felt. Even as the weeks passed and your worlds meshed, nights spent at your place or his, whole days spent in bed. Innocent kisses turned urgent, his hips slotted between yours working you over the edge.
Being open with your feelings felt more exposing than standing bare in his studio while he practiced painting your body for the Living Art Exhibition he was going to be part of in less than a week.
“Almost done,” Eddie muttered softly against your thigh, brush strokes soft along your calf. You didn’t know what exactly he was painting, could only see the colors that he chose and he was not keen on letting you into the loop. It was going to be just as much a surprise to you as those visiting the exhibit.
“Do I get a prize for being a good canvas?” You questioned, eyes now focused on the lights of the city. He chuckled, dropping his brush into a jar of water situated on a small stand near his drafting table. Sketches scattered along the surface. His sketchbook that he wouldn’t let you open nearby. He stood in front of you, eyes lingering on yours from where he towered. A sly grin slotting into place, dimple popping out on his cheek.
“What kind of prize were you angling for?” He asked, chest brushing your breasts as he moved closer. You looked to where you were connected, where the paint covering your nipple pasties rubbed against his white muscle shirt. You swallowed hard and looked up at him. His gaze had turned hungry, wanting. The way it always did when his thoughts had turned far from innocent. His nose brushed yours, lips inching closer as he ran his fingertips along your abdomen. Up up up until he brushed against the heavy flesh of your breast. You gasped at the contact, eyes still trained on his brown ones.
“Are you going to answer me, sweetheart?” You could feel the warmth of his exhale against your pout. His tone was mocking as he watched you, noticed the way your chest heaved as he continued to run his knuckles back and forth across your hidden nipple. You tilted your gaze down as you bit your lip and debated, thighs clenching. You thought of the way his fingers would feel if only he’d dip them lower, underneath the cotton of your panties that were now painted over. Vivid blue to compliment the lavender. Eddie slowly removed one of your pasties, your breath sharp as it slid against your sensitive nipple and you watched the way he rubbed it soft. His eyes were still trained on you as he worked the other pasty off leaving your pebbled breasts blossoming in the outline of where the pasties once rested. He pinched and pulled on one and your knees buckled at the sensation. The need was overwhelming as he continued to tease. Eddie wanted to hear your whine as you begged for him, to enjoy the way his name sounded on your lips as you did. You looked up at him, watched his mouth, and traced the outline of his pink lips with your eyes. Drawing closer until you were pressed against him once more. You pressed your lips to his, soft and sweet until that wasn’t enough. Your kiss turned frenzied with want. Teeth pulling at Eddie’s bottom lip in a small tug until he groaned. You gave him a cheshire grin, looking up at him as though you had the upper hand. But of course, you never did. Eddie lifted you from where you stood, hands wide against the dough of your ass until you were pressed against his hard arousal. You wrapped your legs around him on instinct, mewling at the way his cock felt pressed into your clothed cunt. He gave you a knowing smirk, hands spreading your ass cheeks apart as he held onto you. You moved your hips slowly, grinding against him until the zipper of his jeans hit your clit just right.
“This is the prize you wanted?” His voice came out gruff, affected by the circle of your hips as you continued to grind against him. You nodded your head at him, a low moan escaping your lips as you continued. He smacked your ass, a sharp sting zipping through you and to your sensitive center. You moaned louder, needier.
“Let me hear you say it, pretty girl,” you bit your lip as you looked at him from under your lashes, faux coyness dripping from your gaze.
“I want you Eddie,” you keened. He groaned at the sound of his name on your lips and walked you to a couch nestled in the corner of his studio. Plopping you against the fabric, legs already spread wide for him. He didn’t waste time, kneeling in front of you and ripping your underwear off before tossing it to the side. He nestled his head between your legs, dark eyes watching you. You looked at the couch, at the paint that was leaving marks against its blue fabric.
“Eddie, I’m going to ruin your sofa,” you giggled as you knotted your fingers into his hair. He looked at you with a smirk.
“I don’t give a fuck,” and before you had time for a rebuttal his mouth was on you. Tongue flicking against your clit in a rapid pace making you buck against the sensation. Your back fell against the couch, moans growing louder as he continued to lap at your arousal. He pulled away to spread your lips apart, admiring the way your pussy looked for him. Sopping cunt and puffy clit. He teased your entrance, thick finger pushing in and stretching you until he was knuckle deep. He wrapped your legs around his shoulder and kissed your inner thigh. Mouth sucking against the sensitive skin as he began to slowly push his finger in and out of you. Your grip tightened in his hair, pulling slightly as he picked up pace and curled his digit inside of you. Warm kisses moving up your thigh until his lips were pressed against your sensitive bud. Eddie sucked at your clit, tongue swirling against you as he did.
“Oh Eddie,” you moaned, fingers pulling tighter at his hair. He groaned against you, pushing another finger into your entrance and picking up pace. You could feel the orgasm building, a delicious feeling growing at your center as he continued.
“Are you going to cum for me, baby?” The squelching of his fingers inside of you created a lewd echo reverberating against the walls. You nodded at Eddie, small moans escaping as you got closer to the edge.
“Let me hear you,” he demanded, fingers pushed into the spot only he could reach and you began grinding against his face.
“Oh, Eddie, I’m going to cum-“ you breathed, falling apart as the words escaped you. Your hand tangled into his wild curls, limbs buzzing and vision clouding as the orgasm coursed through you. You squeezed your eyes shut, legs closing around Eddie’s head as he brought you over the edge. His lips still wrapped around your sensitive clit, sucking until tears beaded in your eyes. Overstimulated, vision white with the intensity. Eddie lapped at your juices, moaning as the sweetness coated his tongue.
“Fuck baby, I’ll never get over how sweet you are,” he hummed, warm breath fanning your pussy. You loosened your grip on his hair, vision becoming clearer. Chest heaving as your cunt continued to flutter around his fingers. He slowly withdrew them, fingers slick with you. You sat on your elbows, watching him with a satisfied grin. Breaths coming out in short spurts as your heart hammered against your chest. You watched his face as you grabbed his hand and wrapped your lips around his digits, pulling them into your mouth. Licking them clean. Eddie’s eyes grew darker, jaw-dropping with a small gasp as he watched you suck your arousal from his fingers and hum in delight. He was on you, fingers wrapping in your hair as he held your mouth to his. Kiss rough and animalistic in its need. Tongues darting against each other as it deepened. You pulled at the hem of his muscle shirt, pushing the material up and over his head until his naked torso was revealed. You rubbed your fingers along his abdomen, nails gliding against his happy trail until you were tugging at the button of his jeans. Eddie helped you push them, kicking the denim to the side until he was left in his boxers. Cock straining against the material, precum leaving a dark circle where his head rested. You palmed at his length, stroking from base to tip as you bit your lip and thought about how he’d feel stretching you around his cock.
“I need you,” you whined and pushed his boxers down. His dick stood at attention, tip leaking sticky and slick. You moved closer to him, running his tip against your lips until they were coated. Eddie watched as you licked your lips, savoring the taste of him. You dragged your tongue against the vein that led to his tip, swirling your tongue when you got to his pink head. Pulling him inch by inch into your mouth with a teasing glint in your eye. He was heavy against your tongue as he slipped further into your mouth until he brushed against your throat. You watched from under your lashes as Eddie threw his head back, fingers wrapped in your hair as you began to bob against him. Saliva dripping from your mouth and coating his thick length. You wrapped your hand around him, grip firm as you dragged it up with your mouth. Other hand massaging his balls. You listened as he groaned, knees buckling with the way you milked him. Chest heaving as you picked up pace until the only sound you could hear was the mixture of you slurping and gagging as you deep-throated him. God, he loved the way you looked with your mouth around his cock. The image etched behind his eyes when the pleasure was overwhelming and he had to close them.
“Jesus Christ,” he groaned, hips bucking as you continued. Your eyes tearing up as his length pushed against the back of your throat. You wanted to taste him, to feel his hot cum coat your throat and focused on his tip. Sucking it mean as he groaned louder.
“Baby, baby, baby,” he pulled away from you, teeth sinking into his lip as he got a good look at you. Tears ran down your cheeks, leaving streaks in the paint that had been brushed there. The same effect captured around your mouth where the saliva dripped from your lips.
“So fucking beautiful,” he breathed and ran his thumb along your pout. You brought his thumb into your mouth, sucking hard against him as you began to stroke him.
“Turn around,” he ordered, voice raspy. You flipped onto your stomach and he grabbed your hips, pulling you towards him. Back arched and ass in the air. He slapped your doughy flesh. Once, twice until your cheeks stung with his touch. You mewled at the sensation, pussy dripping from your previous orgasm and the overwhelming arousal.
“Such a pretty fucking pussy,” he muttered to himself, pulling your cheeks apart and exposing all of you to him. He ran a finger along your folds, soaking his thumb in your juices. You cocked your head and watched him, the way his jaw hung slack as he began to press against your asshole. You wiggled your ass, humming at the pressure of his thumb against the puckered entrance. He withdrew and slapped your ass once more before lining up the tip of his cock with your weeping cunt. You felt the pressure of his tip pushing into you, and the way he teased you inch by inch. Savoring the way you felt as you stretched over him until you were full. It already felt so good, the way he was already pushing against the spongy spot that sent you over the edge. Eddie spread your buttcheeks apart, dribbling spit onto your tight hole and rubbing his thumb over the entrance. Prodding until his thumb slipped inside.
“I feel so full,” you moaned and felt the way Eddie twitched inside you at your words. He pulled out of you slowly and thrust back into you with force. Watching the way your ass reverberated against him with the impact.
“Please, please, please,” you begged him, unable to stand the teasing. He smirked at the whine in your voice, hips pulling back and pushing forward sharply again.
“What do you want, sweetheart?”
“Faster, Eddie please,” you whined again and he picked up his pace. Hips pushing into your ass and balls slapping against your swollen clit as he did. The feeling was euphoric, and overwhelming as the next orgasm was already beginning to build. Your moans filled his studio mixing with the sound of his, naked flesh pushing against naked flesh. Eddie chased his orgasm, removing his thumb from your ass and gripping your hips as he did.
“Holy shit, baby,” he moaned and you looked at him from over your shoulder. You loved hearing him, how affected he was by you and the way your pussy fluttered around him.
“Please fill me up, Eddie,” you breathed between moans. Rubber band tightening in your abdomen as he continued to thrust into you. His hips stuttered against yours, the effect of your words felt in the way his cock twitched inside you. Eddie’s grip on your hips tightened, fingers likely to leave marks against your skin. Your pussy fluttered, rubber band snapping at your center. The orgasm was more intense than the last leaving you breathless, moans spewing from you between gruff pants. His name escaped from your lips like a prayer. Eddie, Eddie, Eddie.
“Oh God, Eddie,” you whined out louder, limbs like jelly as he continued.
“Fuck, you feel so good, baby. I’m going to fill this pretty pussy up,” he slapped your ass, his faltering pace letting you know he was closer. He pumped faster, nails digging into the dough of your ass until he came undone. A loud groan escaped his pretty lips, the warmth of his cum shooting into you. He moaned your name, nails still digging into you as his load coated your walls. You let out a breathy moan, eyes rolling at the feeling of his cock twitching inside you. Eddie loosened his grip on you, rubbing where his nails dug half-moons into your skin. Slowly he pulled his softening dick from you, a small sigh escaping him at the loss of you wrapped around him. You whined at the emptiness, unable to move from your position on the couch. He patted your ass, eying the way your pussy looked dripping with his cum.
“Made such a mess out of you sweetheart,” he mused and you wiggled your ass at him. He swatted at the fatty flesh and pushed on your hip to turn you onto your back. His cum dripped down your leg, taking the remainder of any paint with it. He nestled next to you on the couch, wrapping his arm around you as you buried your head into his chest. You played with his chest hair, drawing lines against his ribs and tracing the dark ink that stained his skin.
“Should I call poison control?” You asked, thinking of how much paint each of you had just consumed.
“It’s all edible,” he laughed and you looked at him with a questioning raise of your brows. He rolled his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose.
“I may have bought some intimate paint to use with you,” he elaborated with a tug of his lips. You traced his smile, pouting up at him.
“So you’re saying I could’ve painted you too?” You slapped his chest lightly, playfully, and he rubbed the spot as though you had mortally wounded him.
“You could’ve but what’s the fun in that?” He questioned.
“I could’ve made it worth your while, a repayment for your patience,” you crossed your arms and turned onto your back away from him. Eddie turned onto his side to face you, crowding your space with his lanky arms and naked chest pushing into your bare skin.
“What if I promised to let you take care of me next time,” he asked, grinning at your brattiness.
“Cross your heart?” You questioned and looked at him from the corner of your eye.
“And hope to die, beautiful,” and he drew an ‘x’ against his heart, leaning down to press his lips against yours. You pushed your palm against him, his chest flexing against your touch.
“I’m holding you to it, baby,” you said the nickname with a playful tone but didn’t miss the way it made eyes widen slightly in surprise. The first pet name you’d used on him. He kissed you slowly, savoring the way your lips molded to his and the way your breath shuddered when he pulled your lip between his to suck and then release. You turned and wrapped your arms around his neck, legs draped over his hips in an embrace. As close as possible, drawing him closer closer closer. You liked these moments the most, when hungry kisses turned sweet and you got to worship his body in a different way. Fingers dancing along the lines of his shoulders, down his trapezius muscles, and along his spine. Eddie wasn’t huge like the bodies captured in those wellness magazines, his muscle was lean. Contoured arms and hardened thighs. Fingers calloused from years of playing instruments and manual labor. His face was sharp lines and a strong jaw. And his neck. Beautiful muscled neck. You wanted to cover it in kisses and love bites. To leave your mark so everyone knew. It was a crush, an innocent crush, but God now it was bigger than the both of you.
- tag list: @jjmaybankswifes-blog, @trixyvixx, @dream-a-little-bigger-x, @mmunson86, @bigolidiot, @starlitlakes, @welc0me-t0-hellfire, @womanipulatorr, @tlclick73, @ali-r3n, @corrodedcoffincumslut, @nope-thanks, @vintagehellfire, @the-side-blog777
request to be added to the tag list here 🖤
*if you requested to be tagged but were not listed it was because your blog wouldn’t pull up with the username provided or I couldn’t verify you were 18+.
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genericpuff · 6 months
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The Extended Mishandling of LO's S3 Midseason Finale Premiere
Alright, so I had mentioned leading up to the release of the newest LO episode that my feelings regarding LO returning were pretty "meh". Not hyped, but not completely back of mind either. Just sort of a weird calm before the storm type feeling that could go either way.
I'm glad I got to have that moment of calmness because good god, this episode was an absolute shitshow. And honestly, I'm not surprised, for several reasons:
Rachel has never been good at maintaining a buffer, even back at the start of the series she only ever had 2-3 episodes ready ahead of her schedule which is NOT an ideal buffer for an originals series.
Rachel has never been good at writing, she's very "draw first write later" and has stated as such in interviews that when she gets 'stuck' on what she's writing, she'll just start drawing and fit the pieces in later.
Four months is NOT enough time to both rest, attend massive conventions, and work on improving a project while also getting buffer episodes ready.
Because of the FP episodes remaining locked over the hiatus, technically Rachel only needed to have ONE episode ready upon return for the newest FP release, not multiple like she'd usually need like in the past during the S2 midseason hiatus or the season finale episodes which would unlock those FP releases like normal - so for all we know, she could have drawn this episode literally last week, especially when the promo material was so last minute. Frankly I think it was REALLY stupid for whoever it was who decided to keep these FP episodes locked (whether it was her or WT, it was more likely WT) but you can read all I have to say about that in my review of the midseason finale episodes.
All that's to say, no, there was never any guarantee Rachel was going to somehow "turn around" the ride we're currently on. I know that many of the critics were hoping for that to happen, but with the circumstances of the hiatus mixed with Rachel's bad habits of putting her best efforts into the procrastination projects that aren't her actual comic (ex. the few original pieces and LO sketches she put out during the hiatus) it just wasn't in the cards. This is where the comic is at and this is where it will remain until it's over.
I want to also point something out about this episode that was... really glaring to me.
As with all of these hiatus returns, LO got priority advertising in the first two banner slots and push notifications AND a popup ad within the app. This is unsurprising, Webtoons is still trying to milk this thing for what it's worth.
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I know a lot of people are gonna focus on the art, or the fact that WT is continuing to shill LO, but I wanna point out the part that WT implemented specifically - "NEW SEASON".
This is literally just false. At best I'd like to think some intern just messed up and thought this was a new season, but it's literally not, the episode designation still says "S3". Note that the creators only design the banner art, the actual labels on top are put there by Webtoons.
But at worst, this feels like blatant lying to continue to hide the fact that LO is ending. Mind you, Rachel and Webtoons have still not put out official posts stating that this is the final arc. There is NOTHING from either of them to communicate to the audience that the comic is ending next year. It feels like they're trying to avoid the topic altogether out of fear of losing the fanbase they still have, rather than hyping up the comic's end for those who have stuck around to see how it all wraps up. And honestly, I wouldn't be surprised if this was the case, considering they're now trying to funnel the fanbase into Penguin/Inklore with new marketing deals and the whole Rachel Smythe Presents thing. They're trying to make this seem like the beginning of something "new" when it's really just a quiet shifting of management (Penguin House).
But all that aside, let's actually get into the episode. It's one episode after 4 months, which is not standard for LO's hiatuses, typically FP episodes release on schedule (meaning free readers start hiatuses 3 weeks after FP readers do), the only time this has been an exception has been with the 2 week breaks because the whole point of those was to build a buffer (which you can't do if you're going ahead and releasing the FP episodes anyways). For extended hiatuses like these, usually free readers still get their FP episodes, but that wasn't the case here. That means Rachel technically only needed one episode ready for the comic's return, and it shows. It really fucking shows.
FROM HERE ON OUT THERE WILL BE FASTPASS SPOILERS REGARDING EPISODE 254. DO NOT CONTINUE IF YOU DO NOT WANT TO BE SPOILED !!!
As per tradition, we get a title that means nothing at all. It just says what we already know.
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Our collective husband Zeus is dying, no thanks to the poison cupcake fed to him by Apollo. For those who don't remember, Apollo had tricked Zeus into eating the cupcake by making him believe it was from Hebe. We are fully aware that it was Apollo who poisoned him. Remember that for later in this review.
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Right off the bat we're off to a hilarious start, both with a cryptid appearance from Apollo in the background (lmao) who is, for some reason, ALREADY returning to the scene of the crime he just committed because... who knows at this point. Apollo and Psyche know it was Apollo at this point, I might add, but I have no clue why Apollo is actually returning to the scene of the crime when he has no idea Eros and Psyche know.
Moving on from that, can we talk about this hilarious dialogue?
"We have to call a doctor! Let's call Asclepius!"
"No, we can't trust him! Gosh darn it, why are we only bothering to think of ONE doctor in this universe where we've seen more than one doctor?? Guess Zeus is just gonna die! What a horribly contrived situation this is!"
And that's literally how I can best describe most of this episode. Contrived. There is a LOT of manufactured drama in this that makes ZERO sense even on a surface level.
And what do you mean exactly, Eros? "What a terrible system!" Is this supposed to be a joke? Lampshading? We've seen Persephone go to the gynecologist. There are non-god doctors who tend to gods all the time here.
Eros just doesn't seem to be that pressed over this, he sounds like Ned Flanders and that's NOT a good way to open up a scene like this... let alone an episode people have been waiting four months for.
Anyways, after a few pointless reaction panels (again remember I have to cut a lot of what I show here for Tumblr image limitations but I promise you, I'm keeping as much important stuff as I can in this, there's just THAT MUCH filler at this point), Eros and Psyche confront Apollo and he is... good god.
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There is... so much to unpack here.
First of all, remember those theories about how Rachel was clearly trying to write Apollo as this "secret twist villain" the whole time but it doesn't work because Apollo is simultaneously written as both a 'conniving villain' and a massive dumbass at the same time?
Well, I finally have a more appropriate term for him. He's your average red pill redditor - someone who thinks he's smarter than everyone else when really all he does is sit on reddit all day using big words incorrectly in arguments he gets himself into with a bunch of equally-air-headed dumbasses.
"You can't possibly understand the nuances of the Olympian political system," Apollo said proudly, a man who had, ironically and obliviously, run for president in a monarchy. The union of kettle and pot is eternal.
He's the Slappable Jerk but instead of it being a painfully hilarious impression, it's just painful and hilarious for all the wrong reasons.
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this is so stupid because it's 1.) Eros pointing out how obvious Apollo's plan was, despite Apollo acting smart two seconds ago with a goddess who, mind you, has been a goddess for ten years, and 2.) patricide isn't even intrinsically linked to politics, there's nothing 'political' about a guy trying to kill his dad except in, idk, a monarchy, which again, Apollo has spent ten years trying to rise to power in as a president which is a completely different form of government.
If I wanted to be really granular with this, I'd like to think Apollo is making some kind of point about the critics who call out LO's whack as fuck political system (especially in the trial arc) - as if he's saying "well you're just a stupid reader and this is fantasy where you don't understand exactly what political system we're using, so shut the fuck up you stupid twig" - but I don't think it's meant to be that deep. I think it's just Rachel trying to write a smart character and then failing at it because she, herself, is not a smart writer. And I'm really inclined to believe that more than the theory about this being some kind of meta-narrative about the critics because this entire plotline is contrived and stupid down to its core.
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I did not cut anything out here, that's the pacing. Leto literally just appears out of nowhere and uh oh spaghettio's, she has Kassandra! Remember Leto? The character we were led to believe was truly "pulling the strings" until she disappeared from the story completely after she realized that Apollo and Persephone weren't a thing, even going so far as to call out her own son for being a fucking dumbass? Well, she's back and once again she's being involved as some kind of "double agent" in this whole thing, even though we literally haven't seen her since halfway through S2.
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"Mm yes, you're so stupid, falling into my trap! Even though you had no reason to remember Kassandra anyways because she's literally a mortal woman you just met and you yourself have committed acts of violence against mortals without a shred of care! I'm so smart! My plan is all coming together!"
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We've never seen Apollo do anything except cry and poop his pants, the closest he got to being "powerful" was his attempts to murder Daphne (who he seems to have forgotten about in this "master plan" of his) but ultimately he's literally just a piss ant baby and there's no reason to believe that he could somehow outmatch the God of Love who can literally manipulate people's emotions and states of mind with his arrows. But yeah sure go off, you're so powerful and smart.
The worst part is, I can't even buy this as the narrative trying to be like "see how manipulative and conniving he is?" because it's just silly. We've SEEN this man cry with his victim complex, we've seen him say and do the DUMBEST things that don't lend to any amount of "intelligence" he may have, it comes across less as him being "smart the whole time" and more as him trying to sound smart but ultimately sounding incredibly stupid. And I can't even immerse myself into it and buy that maybe that's the point, because it doesn't feel like the point, it just feels like inconsistent writing, he doesn't feel like a 'threat', he's just monologuing.
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Bad art and Apollo literally just repeating what Leto already implied so this is a waste of the audience's time.
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This is the funniest panel in the whole episode because I can't tell if Apollo is supposed to be in the background (for some reason, despite him literally being in front of Eros and Psyche two seconds ago) or if he's in the foreground and just REALLY small for some reason. This is so off-putting. And of course, it's just Apollo explaining what we're ALREADY SEEING ONSCREEN.
You see, in addition to this episode being contrived, it also talks down to its audience a LOT by explaining exactly what we're seeing onscreen. It's like Rachel saw the criticisms about her not including enough to depict what's actually going on in her head and so she thought the solution was to spoon feed information over pictures that are already doing the job of explaining what's going on. Rachel really doesn't know how to write and even when she tries to implement changes that reflect criticisms that have been made of her writing, she somehow makes things worse because she completely misses the point of what those criticisms are trying to get across.
Anyways, without even trying to resist (for some reason) Eros and Psyche get sentenced to horny jail.
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They're now trapped in a basement that Leto somehow has in her home. How do we know that?
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HAHAHA FUNNY LAMPSHADING SO FUNNNYYYYYYY
Leto claims that they shouldn't try to escape because the dungeon is "enchanted", but she doesn't even bother to explain what that means. So they literally don't bother trying. They don't try to call her bluff, they don't try to teleport out of there, they literally just go "well shoot", shrug their shoulders, and accept their fate. Just like with the whole "we can't trust the only doctor we bothered to think of" situation, Eros and Psyche are turning out to be some of the stupidest, lowest-effort characters in this comic who literally can't be bothered to try because that would require too much brain power.
Notice how much time we've spent on this and we haven't gotten back to where the cliffhanger of the last episode left off? Well buckle up because there's still more to cover.
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So it turns out Hebe was still inside with her dad, in FULL VIEW of what was going on through glass which is somehow COMPLETELY soundproof, and when Apollo steps inside, she just has no idea what happened. She never bothered to even look outside to see what was going on with Eros and Psyche, she's just been sitting on the floor staring at Zeus' dead face for what was likely several minutes, unless Rachel is seriously trying to convince us that conversation and hostage negotiation from earlier only took 2 seconds. The timeline is such a mess at this point that characters basically freeze in place as soon as they're not the focus of the scene.
Apollo rushes inside, acting shocked over the situation, and when Hebe asks where Eros and Psyche are (again, she could have just looked out the window at any time), he's just like "dur idk they just left lol" which Hebe just... buys, I guess.
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That's just Persephone but yellow. She's even missing her beauty mark.
See how Apollo put his hand on Zeus' chest/shoulder by the way?
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Apparently, despite Mr. Smarter Than Everyone Else trying to pretend it wasn't him, he's able to discern that Zeus is dying from a toxic and rare poison just from touching him. He doesn't even really seem to use his powers, he just touches him and goes "welp he's dead i guess lol don't bother asking me how I know that".
But oh nooo remember that note from before? Well gasp Apollo's gonna use it to frame Hebe! In front of no one else at all!
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Hebe of course says she didn't write it, but Apollo continues to try and frame her anyways, even though, again, there's no one else present here, and so it effectively just becomes the most absurd form of gaslighting I've ever seen.
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Again, THERE IS NO ONE ELSE HERE IN THE SCENE. He's just trying to claim she did it to absolutely no one at all, in the hopes of... what exactly? That she'll just take the fall for something she knows she didn't do? That she'll somehow be convinced? It's not like Hebe has the same thing going on as Persephone where she has a 'wrathful dark side' he could pin it on, this is just a criminal who just robbed a building pointing at the first person they see and yelling "YOU DID IT!"
All I'm saying is that Apollo would be really bad at Among Us. He'd be the type of player to kill someone, hit the report button, then claim yellow did it which, even if he DID convince the rest of the team, would still get kicked anyways as soon as yellow was proven through the eject to not be the imp and everyone would go "okay cool so yellow wasn't the imp, that means obviously it's purple self-reporting." It's a trick that doesn't even work anymore because of how old it is. Hebe isn't a child here, she's an 18 year old woman who should be fully capable of raising an eyebrow and wondering why Apollo is this quick to accuse her - almost like he's trying to hide the fact that he did it.
But Hebe can't catch onto this, just like Eros and Psyche, she has to act stupid for the sake of the plot.
At first I thought maybe Rachel was trying to do some "whodunit" scenario, but that doesn't work here because we already know who did it. And while there are stories that exist like that that pull it off (ex. Knives Out) the problem with trying to do this the way Rachel did is that the person being framed has to have this thing called motive. The reason why Knives Out and Glass Onion work so well is because the person who was murdered (or conspired against) is someone who is being targeted by multiple people who could all be the murderer. It's quite literally called out in Glass Onion as a form of smart lampshading. "It's like putting a loaded gun on the table, and turning off the lights."
But it doesn't work here because Hebe does not have motive. If you're going to attempt to frame a murder on someone, it has to be someone who would have reasonable motive to commit that murder, even if they didn't actually commit it.
And who among Zeus' children has motive?
What about the war-mongering bloodthirsty god of war who has been regularly sentenced to time in the Mortal Realm to fight in wars in which he's been regularly injured?
What about the chaos-seeking wrathful goddess who would do it to get revenge on the parental figure who cast her aside, or even just for the fun of saying she did it?
Why try and pin it on Hebe, the doting daughter of Zeus who's only had a collective of maybe 20 panels in the entire comic?
But then I realized... it's not Knives Out, it's the fucking Lion King.
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Which is just as contrived - if not more - than the assumption this was gonna be some attempt to frame Hebe. It's not. He's literally just trying to keep her from assuming it was him. He could have just as easily played dumb without calling attention to the note but he intentionally went out of his way to try and be Scar from The Lion King , while completely missing the point of why that scene worked in the original movie.
Scar wasn't trying to 'frame' Simba for Mufasa's murder. He was trying to hide the murder, while also attempting to get the only heir to the throne out of the picture, so he passed the guilt of the death onto Simba - a child who, unlike Hebe, wouldn't have the ability to rationalize or realize his uncle his a scumbag - who then ran away from home because he was too terrified to face his family for what happened, assuming that it was all his fault when it wasn't.
That's not how this is panning out here. Hebe is the now 18 year old daughter of Zeus, and not one of his only children. She doesn't even fit into the whole "sons overthrowing their fathers" prophecy like Aries would. Apollo is literally just being a big idiot here by saying "well I'm gonna give you a headstart to run away, because if you stay, I might hurt you" (which btw, should be MORE of a smoking gun that Apollo did it??)
And again, it's all so contrived so that the plot can move forward. "Well I'm going to frame you for this murder, but y'know, you should just leave, I'm not gonna try and press it further lmao"
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Again, Apollo is a fucking idiot here, because he just attempted to frame someone who has NO MOTIVE to harm Zeus, to absolutely NO ONE at all who would side with him, only to let her go which would leave her to question why Apollo would try to accuse and harm her in the first place before considering other options. And through ALL this he claims he's the smart one, which I can't even be bothered to "love to hate" because it's written so poorly.
And really it all comes down to how everyone else behaves in relation to Apollo that makes it so stupid and unbelievable. Apollo, you're not smart just because all the characters around you are intentionally being written to be as stupid and non-confrontation as possible. If you can only write a smart villain by making everyone else stupid, you haven't written a smart villain, you've written a dumbass whose victory only happens due to contrived plot convenience. It's not even done well like in Glass Onion, it's just bad writing, full stop.
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And who does he call to report this emergency? The satyr police? His son the doctor?
No.
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The media. Literally just "hello, the media?? I need your best journalist here stat!"
I need you to understand, even if he were calling a tabloid magazine like The Weekly Nark, you don't just... call a journalist to report a murder. These are not the actions of someone who's trying to absolve himself of guilt, these are the actions of a complete dumbass trying to get news coverage of his trophy kill who would be better off just playing dumb instead of trying to play smart. Even Walter White wasn't this fucking stupid despite all the times he fell on his own sword, Apollo is literally just instigating suspicion towards himself for no reason at all. He's self-reporting so hard and worst of all, you can't even take any of this seriously because of how corny it is. There's no dramatic tension, no stakes, it's just a bunch of characters performing in a really bad stage play and reducing every conflict to "well I guess Zeus is just dead now because no one's bothering to make an effort to stop Apollo or ask questions lmao"
It's truly the epitome of "this plot wouldn't exist if characters would just talk to each other."
But finally, FINALLY we mention the thing this episode is named after, the transition point to Persephone.
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Just like with the midseason finale episode, there's a lot to cover here, so I'm gonna get more into it in a part two post.
That said, you can see already this is the messiest, most contrived bullshit to ever wind up in LO. It's trying so hard to be smart and it just comes across as a bunch of toddlers in the world's worst stage play rendition of Clue. None of what was done here was in any way dramatic or tense, it's just a bunch of characters infodumping shit we already know, trying to set up new plot threads that don't make any sense, and allowing one another to get away with what they're doing because they don't bother to even try.
It's completely manufactured, contrived nonsense. It's not "smart", it's not "so dumb it's brilliant", it's just dumb.
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thatasadbitch · 1 year
Text
𖧷 𝒪𝓁ℴ'ℰ𝓎𝓀𝓉𝒶𝓃 𖧷
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𝒩ℯ𝓉ℯ𝓎𝒶𝓂 𝓍 𝒻ℯ𝓂!𝒩𝒶'𝓋𝒾!𝓇��𝒶𝒹ℯ𝓇
𝒲𝒶𝓇𝓃𝒾𝓃𝑔: this is +18, it contains unprotected sex, breeding kink and fingering. if you don't like it generally just don't read it. the characters are both in their 20s.
𝓌ℴ𝓇𝒹𝒸ℴ𝓊𝓃𝓉: 1.5k
𝓇ℯ𝓆𝓊ℯ𝓈𝓉: hiiii , So this is my first time requesting anything so , Idk really what to say 😭 but um can you please write a smut with either neteyam or tsu’tey with breeding kinks 😭 Like they are olo’eyktan trying to make a like an heir , pretty please 🫶🏻
𖧷𖧷𖧷
Neteyam and I had already been partners for some time, when he was proclaimed olo'eyktan and thus head of the omatikaya clan.
After all he was the eldest son of the previous clan chief Jake Sully, the toruk Makto had had to leave the clan some time ago due to various problems with the Sky People and Neteyam being that he does not have five fingers like his three brothers, he would in no way case conspicuous and thus remained to protect his clan as an excellent Olo'eyktan.
But this has now happened months ago, things had relaxed over time and even if not completely, every so often there were expeditions to annihilate some half-human who had gone too far into the forest, but other than that, everything had reconciled back to a sort of normality.
On the other hand, Neteyam is perfect for the role that has been assigned to him and everyone is convinced of it, the only thing that makes someone whisper is still the lack of a son, an heir to whom the position of clan chief would pass.
In reality this doesn't bother us that much the fact of not having had children yet is a decision shared by both perhaps still too young to really think about it, and among other things, as warriors which we both are and things happened not like this a long time ago it was definitely not the best time for me to get pregnant.
But now things had calmed down and inside Neteyam's head, this thought couldn't stop haunting him relentlessly, only the image of his partner carrying his child made him wince with excitement, a kind of excitement that it clouded his mind and made him hard as a rock and that he probably wouldn't be able to suppress those instincts much longer.
I was hunting, my ears were focused on the sounds of the forest and especially on the movements of my prey.
Until another type of noise makes my ears spin, and makes my prey run away, i hiss in frustration and turn around to find my partner watching me from not too far away "how loud are you, you missed dinner?" I say looking at his proud smile "I've been here for a while actually, I had to ask you something, but looking at you was definitely better" I blush and slapped his arm lightly "What did you have to ask me?" I ask looking at his eyes become suddenly more serious and I hear him sigh "I wanted you to give me an opinion on my plan of attack, what I thought I'd do in a week or so" I nod and together we head towards the tree house, more precisely to our hut where Neteyam keeps his ' notes ' for battles etc... I take the map in my hand and start reading the sketched notes on the paper.
The thing I don't know is that while I'm blabbering about some changes Neteyam looks at my figure not hearing what I'm saying at all, the only thing he thinks about again is wanting to cum inside me so many times as to fill my limbs and especially to fill my belly with his puppies.
His eyes are misty with a dark mist as he watches my hips move along with my ass occasionally as I speak, waist narrow and back perfectly arched on the table "you know maybe you should put some more warriors on the Ikran-" is the only sentence that he feels the slightest and that I don't even finish because I feel his big warm and tight hands on my hips with his pelvis against my perfect ass to make his hard cock feel against me.
I initially jump in surprise but it doesn't take long for a smug smile to form on my face.
I feel him move my hair to the side and lower on my body, attaching his chest to my back and his lips to the most sensitive points of my neck licking, biting and sucking them, in response I inadvertently start to move my hips against him, which he hisses biting the soft skin of my neck with more ardor and making me gasp in his arms.
His hand runs up my thighs and then reaches my butt squeezing it gently, but his hand continues to flow, pretending it doesn't reach my intimacy, already dripping for him.
He caresses it a little teasing me by touching the clitoris without ever really applying pressure "Neteyam..." my voice is needy "what's up baby... what do you want?" he asks whispering hoarsely into my ear only making me more aroused and more obviously rubbing against him.
"I want you" I see him take his braid and connect it with mine making my pulse increase for the idyllic sensation "where do you want me baby?...talk and I can give you what you want" his fingers definitively remove my thong before making room between my wet walls, making me moan copiously between his hands, his fingers touch the spongy and most sensitive points inside me and rub my clitoris, and making me water slightly with pleasure "Neteyam…inside me…I want you inside me” at my gasping and disconnected words I feel his heart racing and a rush of excitement disperse throughout my body.
He turns me around making me sit on the table finding the imminent need to kiss me roughly and passionately, bringing my pelvis closer to him as he takes off his thong.
Finally showing me his rock hard cock at my entrance, so horny that I already have some pre-cum coming out of the tip of him wetting him.
He looks into my eyes as if asking for the permission he already has, and as he thrusts himself all the way into me two moans come out of both of our lips, he holds my hips as my legs are locked around his waist.
He rests his forehead against mine, thrusting hard into me relentlessly.
Letting a few noises of pleasure escape my lips and his growls and husky sighs kissing my ears.
One thought kept nagging Neteyam making him frown, he wants to come inside me fill me with his cum and his sons, his eyes were again foggy like his mind but those thoughts make his cock jerk inside me making me moan stronger and stronger, another thing that turns him on more and more, making him empty his mind to the point of not worrying about anything but getting me pregnant tonight, for the world to come he wants to see me full of him and his children tonight.
A loud moan escapes his lips and his hands move up my legs to move them over his shoulders and reach all the way down, letting his cock kiss my cervix and my G-spot so many times it makes me cry again for the frustrating pressure building in my lower belly more and more from my imminent orgasm that will soon overwhelm me “you have to come with me baby ok? " my walls are already starting to squeeze against him " are you doing it? For me” I nod slightly and he gives me soft “Atta Girl” praise.
When his thrusts get stronger and more frantic, I understand that he too wants to come, but this time he doesn't pull himself out of me, he pushes inside me harder and harder.
And without warning we both come, he cums inside me profusely it seems to never end, my walls squeezing him inside me making him moan loudly and making me enjoy such a beautiful sound.
Soon his forehead is back on mine and our gasping breaths mix, letting his lips kiss me softly, feeling his hand reach my lower belly swollen with his cum.
A small smile forms on his lips, a mischievous and sly smile "What are you laughing at" I ask letting my legs fall from his shoulders and stopping them at his waist "I'm just happy" he says kissing me other times letting out a few purrs that they make my chest tremble, I caress his cheeks looking into his eyes letting one cheek rest on my hand to let himself be caressed “nga yawne lu oer” (I love you) I say letting a small smile escape his tired face “nga yawne lu oer, more than everything else in the world” he continues positioning himself next to me starting to prepare the post-sex cures and making sure that I don't lose any drop of his semen.
He places me on our bed, and lies down next to me laying me down on his chest letting his purr, his quiet breathing and his heartbeat lull me into a peaceful sleep.
His hands playing with my hair and sleep making its way towards me "rest baby" he kisses my temple making me purr, but I don't let him get away and I finally fall asleep in his arms .
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matthyeu · 1 year
Text
sticky note ― sqr.
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pairing ⇢ shen quanrui (ricky) x gn!reader 
genre ⇢ fluff, college!au
warnings ⇢ none
word count ⇢ 595
synopsis ⇢ amongst the sticky notes of feedback, there's always a small doodle of you from an unknown person.
notes ⇢ i’m going to work on requests after this!! i just got this really cute idea from what one of my classmates did, and i wanted to write something like it!
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you never thought one of the biggest mysteries in your life would be the artist behind the wall of sticky notes you had, the ones you had collected from a whole semester’s worth of feedback from one of your classes. 
it certainly wasn’t the expected outcome your professor envisioned when she introduced the idea as she was going over the syllabus, an anonymous way of sending feedback to people after their presentations. it was a procedure where the presenter would step out of the classroom, waiting in the halls, as the rest of the classmates covered their desk with positive notes. 
whenever you did your presentations, you often looked forward to seeing a messy sketch amongst the sea of praise. the sketch in place of positive feedback was more than you could ever ask for. it made you happier than any words ever could. 
to know someone was able to concentrate on your presentation and make an accurate rough sketch of you in pen within the eight minutes you were speaking was impressive. they must have been an artist, but you couldn’t guess who it could be. 
you asked the people around you about them, but none of them received sketches like yours. all of theirs were simple little notes. while they teased that you must have been special to the artist, they didn’t dare to tell you who it was, wanting to keep the purpose of anonymity your professor preached about. 
you had no choice but to continue to wonder as you continued to look back on the sticky notes from that semester, the ones you had taped to your window because they were so special to you. someone had taken time to draw them, so why throw them out? though, your roommate often complained about how you wouldn’t stick them anywhere else since everyone always asked about them when they first arrived in your dorm. 
it was true. everyone did have questions about the wall of sticky note drawings, but you never expected the one ricky asked when he came in to work on a project with you. usually, people only asked why you even had it in the first place. 
“you kept those drawings?” 
ricky was in the class where you had received them, so it was fair that he knew about your situation. he was even one of the people who refused to expose the artist.
“well yeah, i thought they were cute. the person who drew them probably worked hard, so i want to appreciate them. i think whoever did it was very talented.” 
somehow you missed the small smile he had on his lips as he continued to listen to you talk about your sticky note wall. you were far too busy admiring it for the twentieth time of the day to even see the little signs ricky gave. 
“you know, i want to know who did it. i want to ask if they could draw me a formal portrait. i’d even pay them to do it too since i’ve always wanted to do that kind of thing.” 
as you turned around, you found ricky had already made himself comfortable on your dorm floor, taking supplies out of his backpack. however, these weren’t the materials you needed for your project. 
“huh? ricky what are you doing?” you asked as he brought out a large pad of paper. 
“well, you said you wanted the sticky note artist to draw you a portrait, so here i am. don’t worry. it’s free of charge since i’ve always found enjoyment in drawing you.”
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