#i was going for a better drawing but well

[rafeandonlyrafe]

sparkling juice

words: 1.9k

warnings: 18+ only!!!, p in v sex, unprotected sex, virgin!reader, dubcon, drugging/tricking reader into drinking, established relationship, innocent/shy!reader (at least at first wink wink), kinda dark!rafe but really he just wants to bang reader reaaaaal bad

“this is so sweet, rafey.” you coo, your hand held firmly in his.

“anything for you baby.” rafe pulls you along the path, further out into the meadow until you get to a shaded area under a tall tree.

“here is perfect.” rafe says, setting the picnic basket down and draping the large blanket he brought with him.

“thank you.” you tell rafe, pulling him in for a sweet kiss before sitting down.

“i brought all your favorites.” rafe says, taking a spot next to you and opening up the picnic basket.

you let out a little squeak in excitement and seeing all your favorite foods before your brows scrunch together as you point at a bottle. “what's that?”

“that's um… sparkling juice. that's all, baby.” of course, rafe knows that's not all it is, but you don't need to know that yet.

rafe pulls out some food for you to snack on, not hungry himself, happy to watch you nibble on crackers and bite into juicy strawberries.

“wanna try some juice with me baby?”

“mhm, of course rafey.” you watch his large hands as he fills two plastic cups, handing one to you. “drink slow.”

you nod in response before taking a sip, pulling away and sputtering. “ew!”

“oh, baby.” rafe pouts. “do you not like it? im so sorry i thought you would.”

“let me… let me try to drink it again. i think im just not used to the carbonation.” you take another sip, able to control your reaction better. “it's not bad!” rafe can tell you're lying, but he lets out a fake sigh of relief and smiles at you.

“so glad, baby. we can keep drinking while we talk, yeah? tell me about your day.”

rafe knows the easiest way to get you distracted is to have you talk, and so as you describe your day, which leads into your plans for next week, which leads into how much you love rafe, you keep taking sips as rafe refills just your cup.

“i… my head feels kinda fuzzy.” you frown, setting the drink down, realizing your fingers are also slightly numb.

“uh oh.” rafe pouts, drawing his thumb over your cheek. “maybe it's the heat. why don't you lay down?”

“yeah.” you nod, laying back onto the blanket, surprised how plush it is from the soft long grass underneath it. “im-” you let out a sudden giggle. “im like really in love with you, rafey.”

“im really in love with you too, kiddo.” rafe adjusts himself to lay next to you, propped up on his side to keep an eye on your reaction as the alcohol you didn't know you were drinking slowly takes effect. “that's why i planned out this whole picnic for you. and brought you special juice.”

“was there-” you hiccup, words slurring slightly. “anything special in the special juice?”

“hm.” rafe sits up, picking up the now half empty bottle. his eyes widen in fake shock as he reads the label. “oh no baby! i must have grabbed the wrong bottle! i meant to get us sparkling juice but i got us sparkling wine!”

“im… im drunk?” you put together what rafes words mean, mind working slowly.

“im so sorry.” rafe moves to hover over you, cupping your cheek. “will you forgive me?”

“course.” you nod quickly. “was an accident.”

“you're so sweet baby.” rafe brings his lips down on top of yours, kissing you wildly, mouths and tongues a passionate mess.

“should we go get some water to help… get rid of this feeling?” you ask rafe as he shifts to kissing your jaw.

“that's so smart, baby, but i can't drive us home drunk, and you don't have your license.” 

you knew how to drive well enough, but in your 20 years of life, never felt the need to actually get your license. your parents drove you around as a kid until you started dating rafe a year ago, and then he drove you around everywhere.

“oh, right.” you nod, letting out a small gasp as rafes kisses move lower, exploring your neck. this is where you usually stop him, pull his head back up to kiss your lips and remind him you want to wait. not necessarily until marriage, but a bit longer, until the time is right.

“we should do something to pass the time, baby. until the alcohol is out of our system.”

“doesn't eating help?” you try to remember what you heard your friends talk about, since you're not a drinker yourself. “we could share the rest of the crackers.”

“i was thinking… we could finally make love.” rafe suggests, pulling back to look in your eyes, watching the way your brain is fighting against the alcohol in your system.

“well, you did take me on this nice picnic…”

“mhm.”

“and we have been dating for over a year now.”

“yes.”

“so… i suppose we could.” you shove down any doubting voices in your head, letting the looseness of your inhibitions guide your actions as you lean forward to kiss rafe again.

“thank you baby.” rafe repeats his words between kisses, his weight shifting to his elbow as his other hand holds your waist, before moving up until it's cupping your breast.

“oh!” you gasp, surprised by how good it feels. rafe smiles, tugging at your dress until the material is below your bra, pushing your breasts up.

“what if someone sees?!” you hiss out. it's not likely someone would come by, but rafe doesn't want to ruin his chance to finally have you.

“okay.” he pulls your dress back up, settling for touching you over the material as he distracts you with soft kisses once again. “ill just push your dress up. that way if anyone comes by you can easily cover yourself up.”

“mhm.” you nod, eyes sliding shut, head fuzzy from the alcohol and now from the pleasure building in your system.

rafe reaches down to pull his cock out of his pants, leaving himself mostly covered as well. he begins to slowly stroke himself, already halfway hard just from the excitement.

“oh!” rafe hadn't even realize your eyes had opened up until your outburst.

“it's okay, baby.” rafe says. he's well aware this is your first time seeing his cock as he waits for you to form a reaction.

“i… i want to feel.” you reach down, cautious hand, still numb at the fingertips as you stroke over rafes length, eyes widening when you realize how hard it truly feels..

“can you… can you not look?” you ask shyly, hand still slowly moving as you speak. “at me.”

“baby, you know i find you beautiful. all of you… but if that's what you want, okay.” 

“just… look away for a minute.” you wait for rafes gaze to turn to the meadow, watching the flowers sway in the breeze as he hears you shuffling around on the blanket to take your underwear off.

“okay.” you say.

rafe looks back to you, smile growing as he realizes you're laid back down once again, dress pushed up to your thighs, just enough to hide your privates.

“ill be nice and slow, okay? and you tell me if anything hurts.” rafe moves over you, waiting for you to nod before reaching down with one hand to grab his cock. he keeps your skirt as far down as he can while tucking his dick between your thighs. he moves until he bumps skin, letting out a breath when he realizes you are wet.

he rubs his cock through your folds, watching the way your face twists in pleasure, brows pulling together and mouth dropping open.

you let out a moan when rafe hits what he assumes is your clit. he focuses the head of his cock on it for a moment before sinking lower to your entrance.

rafe manages to keep his word, pushing in slowly. he may have been buttering you up for an entire year just to get in your pants, but now he wants more than just once, you're well and truly his, and he plans on exploring with you until you're transformed from innocent girlfriend into personal slut.

“oh! oh, rafe!” your hands move to grip his shoulders. “that… that feels really good!”

“doesn't hurt at all?” rafe can tell he's stretching you somewhat, but clearly by your rapid shaking of your head no, you're not feeling any pain.

“gonna f-make love to you now then.” he swings his hips back before pushing forward, and soon your moans are filling the meadow, being carried away by the wind as he thrusts into you.

“so, so good, rafey.” you cry out, back arching off the picnic blanket. rafe smiles. your first time, and you're already behaving like this. he's going to turn you into a whore sooner than he thought.

“fu-fudge!” you shout out, making rafe chuckle softly as you use your curse word substitute just like you prefer doing.

“you feel so good round me, baby.” rafe says, bending down to kiss your neck. “love the way you're squeezing me.”

“harder.” you whine out. rafes eyebrows raise, but he doesn't question your demand, pushing his hips faster, slamming into you more. your dress pushed up from all the motion to reveal rafes cock burying itself inside your pussy.

he lets out a moan as you grip onto the blanket, not caring about him being able to see you as you feel a high building inside of you.

“i think im close.” you say.

“cum for me baby. ill cum with you.” rafe says, bringing a hand down to your clit, your moans doubling as he rubs over it with his thumb.

your high hits you suddenly. it takes a perfect thrust from rafe a long with his thumb flicking over your clit and your wall breaks with a scream, hips rising off the checkered fabric as you cum, pussy clenching around rafe as he spills inside of you with a moan of his own.

you both collapse in a heap, faces flushed and chests rising and falling rapidly.

rafe pulls out of you carefully before flopping onto his back.

“that was really good, rafey.” you cuddle into his side, resting your head on his chest.

“thank you for trusting me enough to do that with me, baby.” he presses a kiss to the top of your head.

“of course.” your eyes are on rafes cock, still halfway hard despite just cumming. you reach down, ghosting your fingers along his length before swirling your fingertip over the head then against his slit as rafes hips twitch from the overstimulation.

“do you think we can do that again? and then maybe when we get home? after you're good to drive, of course.” you look up at rafe with what he thought were big, innocent eyes, but he's quickly realizing you've got a different side just below the surface.

-- six months later --

“ugh, rafe!” you groan as he presses buttons on the controller, eyes firmly on the screen. 

“promise baby, will be done in five minutes.” he says, barely glancing to you.

you're tired of being ignored as you pull off the only clothing you are wearing, a big t-shirt of rafes to cover yourself. rafe glances over, realizing you're now completely nude as his fingers freeze.

“i want to fuck. if you're not gonna help me, im gonna go help myself.” you shrug.

rafe tosses the controller onto the floor, a proud smile on his face. you've become just who he's always wanted you to be. “of course im gonna help you baby, come get on this dick.”

#i wrote this on my phone so there are probably a lot of mistakes #sorry! #rafe smut #rafe cameron smut #obx smut #outer banks smut #rafe fic #rafe fanfic #rafe fanfiction #rafe cameron fic #rafe cameron fanfic #rafe cameron fanfiction #rafe x you #rafe x y/n #rafe x oc #rafe x reader #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron x you #rafe cameron x y/n #rafe cameron x oc #rafe imagine #rafe one shot #rafe blurb #rafe drabble #rafe cameron imagine #rafe cameron one shot #rafe cameron drabble #rafe cameron blurb

[chastiefoul]

mischievous streak | neuvilette

just another day of you pining over neuvilette and poor wriothesley has to hear all about it. (dw neuvilette makes an appearance!!) fluff. crack. this one is so unserious. 0.7k words

“and when he said ‘oratrice oratrice mecanique d'analyse’ did you hear it, wrio?” you swooned, another day of fanning over the iudex of fountaine to your best friend,  wriothesley.

“did you?” the duke replied increduosly, as if not really getting the reason why that was the part you’re fawning over. “oh and when he declared ‘guilty’ verdict with such conviction and charisma to that person, i wished that was me.” you went on, the conversation was most definitely one-sided.

“...you wished that you’re in a court and getting a ‘guilty’ verdict?” he blinked, not knowing how to react when the things you’re saying gets more insane as each day passed. “well not really, but i am certainly guilty. guilty for wanting to climb him like a-“

wriothesley cut you off with an exaggerated cough.

“you finish that sentence and i’m sending you to the authorities.” you crossed your arm, “you’re the authorities.” he sighed, “yes and i’m not above putting cuffs on you and throw you to one of the cell.”

you gasped, “you wouldn’t. you’d put me in jail because of love?”

“insanity is what you are, (y/n). seriously, just talk to him.” he picked up his cup of tea wanting to take another sip. “and what do i say, that i’ve been in love with him since forever and that i’d give him a limb in exchange for a date?”

“sure. or, you could say you want to get to know him a little better, and ask him out for some lunch?” he said, his pen not stopping on checking the piling documents on his table. “but that’s like super obvious!” you retorted.

“and saying you’d give him one of your limb isn’t...?” he gave you a side-eye before getting back to his paper. “hmm, fair point.” you tapped your chin with your finger. “but he doesn’t seem like the type who’d just go out with anyone, no? i don’t think i’ve ever seen him with someone,” you claimed, thinking back to all the times you passed him accidentally by remembering his schedules.

“you’re right, but i don’t think that’s by his choice though. i think some people just got really intimidated by the idea of casually hanging out with the iudex of fountaine.” he shrugged. “what?! that’s not fair, even though he’s really kind hearted?”

the man in front of you gave you a mocking smile. “yeah, and you’d know hm? since you hang out with him so much,” he teased. “i don’t like you, you’re attacking me for no reason.” you grumbled. wriothesley just chuckled good naturedly before you continued.

“gosh but seriously, he should have someone by his side, don’t you think? someone’s who’s supportive, who will stand by him no matter what. you know, someone like me? i would treat him so good. i would make him food all day, draw him a bubble bath-“

a cough cut you off, you’d think it’s wriothesley and his unwillingness to hear your sincerity about your feelings towards neuvilette, but when you see that his expression was just as startled, you shut your lips.

both of you turned your heads to the end of the stairs and there he is.

neuvilette.

yes, the very one you’ve been crushing on since forever, oh and did i mention you just said you’d draw him a bubble bath?

the tip of his ears was visibly rosy, as he looked like he tried so hard not to look embarrassed or even phased. “i was let in by the guard, i didn’t realize there is another guest.”

you closed your eyes, counting slowly to three because perhaps it would be able to turn back time, even just a little. wriothesley was just covering his mouth, and you’d bet the other limb you have that he’s currently trying his harderst to hold back a laugh.

this is a situation. a situation you need to diffuse fast with your quick thinking.

you turned to wriothesley. “that’s why i said duke, not only you don’t need to reduce my sentence, please don’t let me out from this jail forever. i would endanger the civilians. thank you for your time duke wriothesley, i am now going to go back to my cell.”

hearing that was just the last straw for your best friend, he laughed out loud. doubling over and all that as he clutched his stomach. after a solid two minutes of him just laughing and you facepalmed yourself, wriothesley gained his composure.

“neuvilette, meet (y/n), the all-over supervisor of the fortress of meropide.”

you glared at him before giving the long-haired man your sweetest smile.

“hello, it’s nice to finally see you down here in the flesh, monsieur neuvilette.” you nodded at him in which he replied with a slight smile. “likewise and please, just call me neuvilette.”

neuvilette gave wriothesley a document as he immediately skimmed through it. “i see, well there’s nothing here that i can give an input on better than (y/n), this is more of their expertise.” your head turned so quick as if you heard a blaring alarm. “then, i would appreciate your insight on this matter if you have the time,” neuvilette said as looked at you and there’s no way you could say no.

“of course! perhaps over lunch? it’s the right time, no?” you bounced back, now feeling excited than nervous. he chuckled at the enthusiasm as he agreed. “yes, you’re right. but perhaps you should know i’m not ready yet for someone to draw me a bubble bath after just one lunch.” he put his fist over his mouth, covering his smile. so turned out the iudex of fountaine has a mischievous streak in his personality after all.

that’s nice. not for your already beyond embarrassed state, though.

“wriothesley, just arrest me right now please.”  

#genshin x reader #genshin scenarios #genshin impact x you #genshin impact x reader #genshin x you #genshin fanfic #genshin fluff #neuvilette x reader #neuvilette x you #neuvilette fluff #wriothesley fluff

[drjholtzmann]

this is dreamling more than dead boy detectives but it's been in my head since reading issue #25 after s1 of sandman. so, now feels like a good time to release it into the world. i just want them all to get in each others way

(season of mists spoilers)

------------

It’s not often that Hob smokes. It’s an expensive habit, and secondhand smoke and all that. But it’s hardly going to kill him, so he’s usually got an ancient pack on hand somewhere. Handy, especially in situations like this. Not that there’s ever been a situation like this before but, well. You live long enough. 

He slips out into the beer garden of the pub, lighting up almost absent mindedly, the action still muscle memory. 

“What the fuck,” he mutters, rubbing his thumb along his lower lip, “what the fuck. Dream, if you have bloody anything to do with this, I swear to god, Morpheus. What the fucking fuck.” He closes his eyes, lets his head fall back against the brickwork. Despite it all he huffs an exhausted laugh. Because sure. Of course. Yeah, why not. Of course this would happen. “Jesus Christ, Morpheus. Even if this isn’t you, bloody… fucking wish I could just ask.” It’s all said barely above a whisper. Just in case. Always just in case. He blindly ashes his cigarette and heaves out a heavy breath, “Lord above,” he scoffs, raising the cigarette to his lips again. 

“Hob?”

Hob startles, eyes snapping open, head knocking back sharply against the brick. “Fuck – ow – Dream?” He raises his free hand to rub the back of his head, wincing slightly. “That, uh… that worked better than expected.” 

“You were calling for me?”

“Yeah… sorta. I didn’t… think it worked like that. Didn’t mean to interrupt.”

“You did not. I had thought briefly of you.” 

“Oh, yeah?” Hob grins. “How come? You miss me already?”

Morpheus sends him a withering look. 

“I, um… dreamt of you. While ago. Was that – real?”

“It was.”

He nods, thumb nervously tapping the filter of his cigarette. “Uh huh. Figured. With the wine, and…” he trails off. The hollow feeling of that dream, or rather, of that waking coming back to him in full force. “You said some ominous shit. Then I said some ominous shit. Was that real, too?”

Morpheus nods solemnly. 

“Right. Don’t suppose you’ll explain that?” Morpheus remains silent. “Right. Course not. Things okay, though? Now? I mean,” he gestures to his friend, “you’re here. That must be good, yeah?”

“Yes. And no.”

“Great. Fab.”

“What I thought I was facing has… changed.”

“...’kay. Well, can I ask you a question?”

Morpheus pauses but, after a moment, nods.

“S’it got anything to do with the dead kids hanging out in my pub?”

“What?”

“Yeah, couple of boys who look like they should definitely be in school – about, oh, fifty years ago. At least.”

Morpheus’ eyes don’t actually widen in alarm, but there is something to that effect happening… not quite in his expression, but in his aura, perhaps. Hob gets the feeling that if he were a cat the fur along his spine would be standing on end. 

“So… it is related?” 

“Perhaps.”

“Definitely, then.” Hob takes a short puff of his cigarette. 

“Show me?” 

“Uh… I don’t know if they know that people can see them. I don’t know if people who aren’t me can see them, actually. So just, um…” the caution dies in his throat as he realises who it is he’s talking to. Morpheus will do what he will, Hob’s advice be damned. 

Dream draws close, peering in through the windowpane of the door back into the pub. “How do you know?”

“You get pretty good at feeling when things are off once you’ve been around the block six hundred years or so. Also, they walked in through the closed front door. As in, passed right through the solid wood and glass.”

“I see.”

“Why are they here?” 

“To sample your fine selection of craft beer, perhaps?”

“Oh, he’s joking,” Hob has joined his side in peering not-so-surreptitiously through the door. “‘Mortal plane’ here, not here-here.”

“Death must have been busy… It is not like her to leave a job unfinished without good reason.”

“Must’ve…? What the fuck could be so horrific that Death is being kept busy?”

Morpheus, beside him, is silent. Deadly still. And it tells Hob all he needs to know. 

“Dream,” he hisses, “what the fuck is this? What’s going on?”

There is a long pause. “I ought not to tell you.” Dream murmurs, still facing the glass panel of the door.

“And I ought not have two dead teenagers in my pub. All things relative.” 

“They are causing no harm.”

“I don’t doubt that. It’s you I’m worried about now.”

“Your concern is of no use. What I mean is that they are no poltergeists, not aggressive, there seems to be nothing demonic about them.”

“Which means… there are poltergeists and demons running about at the mo?”

“I told you, I ought not say. There are diplomatic proceedings to take place.”

“You get that that makes even less sense, yeah?”

Dream seems to, at last, with an almighty eye roll, give in. “Hell is closed,” he hisses, turning to face Hob directly. 

“Hell is closed.” Hob repeats back, dumbfounded. “And that means… The devils are all here?”

“Precisely.”

“But the boys… aren’t devils?”

“They are not.”

“Okay. That’s good news. And the devils?”

Dream shrugs, sharp and languid. “Anywhere. Everywhere.”

“Great. Okay. Less good. Very much less good. So, uh. What… do I do? Am I supposed to exorcise them? Because, I have to be honest – would really rather not do that.” 

“You are under no obligations.”

“Oh.” 

“They could not be here without Death’s knowledge or her say-so. She will come for them in time.”

“Oh.” Inexplicably, Hob’s heart sinks a little.

“They are not alive, Hob.” Dream says, looking him in the eye. “They cannot live forever as the dead.” 

“Hm. Yeah. S’pose.” He looks through the windowpane at the two boys, chatting animatedly at a corner table out of the way. “They’re just kids, though. Barely got a normal life.”

“You cannot save them, Hob.”

“Why not?”

“You cannot. They may not be destined for Hell, but that doesn’t mean they can stay amongst the living.” 

“Says who?”

“The universe. Death, herself.”

Hob smirks, tilting his head down a fraction to look up at Dream from under a quirked brow. “You know what I think of Death.”

And Hob catches the tension at the corner of Dream’s mouth that he knows, whatever he might say to the contrary, is a suppressed smile. 

“C’mon, what if I just help ‘em live a little? While they’re here?”

“Hob.”

“What?! Can’t a guy be nice?”

“I have meetings to attend to.”

“That’s not a no.” 

“I think it a poor choice to flaunt immortality in front of two who have died so young. I would caution against it.”

“Okay. Fuck, fair point. But they don’t have to know about me. They wouldn’t somehow know, right?”

“I would caution against it, Hob Gadling.”

#sandman #dreamling #dead boy detectives #sandman fanfic #my fic #hob gadling #dream of the endless #charles and edwin get a cameo lets say #im so excited for the show yall have no idea

[truly-neutral-art]

Din/Luke Pacific Rim AU pt.2

Pt. 1

Another addition to this AU because It's been living in my head rent free for ages. I can't do a Pacific Rim AU without recreating the iconic Kwoon scene. Also, I was too lazy to draw backgrounds so I just stole them from the movie  ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Under the cut is a teaser of the fic I'm trying to write. It's a first draft, so there's probably some mistakes. Also, I'm still kind of in Screen Writing mode from school, so please don't mind if there's not a lot of internal character narration.

“Four points to two,” Luke calls after the final candidate falls. His emotions are carefully masked on his face but Din can see how tense he is. 

“We’re wasting time, Marshal. He’s barely compatible with any of them, this isn’t going to work,” Luke says.

“What do you suggest?” The Marshal raises a brow. 

“Put me in charge, I’m drift compatible with several cadets. We don’t need him.” Luke gestures towards Din. The look on his face makes Din’s blood boil. Contempt. What did he ever do to Luke to earn this?

“What’s your problem, Skywalker?” Din stomps towards the edge of the mat. 

“I’ve already told you, I don’t think you're the right man for the job,” Luke replies. He’s now turned squarely towards Din, his face back to that eerie calm. It sends a shiver down Din’s spine. 

“No, there’s more. You’ve got a problem with me.” Din steps closer, trying to ignore the piercing blue of Luke’s eyes. 

“Enough! both of you.” Marshal Skywalker turns to them both. 

“If you think you’re so much better, then let’s go.” Din points his bō at Luke. “If you win, you can pilot the Crest. If I win, you back off.” Din holds Luke's gaze, projecting his challenge. 

“Neither of you are in the position to make that decision,” Anakin states, breaking the spell. 

“What? Think your own blood isn’t good enough to beat me?” Din didn’t know Marshal Skywalker that well, but from what he did know, the man was prideful. Maybe it wasn’t the smartest move, but it got him what he wanted. 

The Martial turned towards Luke, earning his attention. No words were exchanged between them, the Martial simply gave a nod. A brief look of satisfaction washed over Luke’s face. Din turned towards the mat to prepare for the fight before Luke’s eyes turned back to him. 

Luke stepped to the edge of the mat, shoes and outer shirt removed. He bowed at the waist before stepping forward. He was in a simple black tank top and the standard cargo pants. It was the first time Din had seen any of his skin exposed beyond his face. His arms and neck were covered in pale, lightning-like scars that looked like they extended beyond what Din could see. He wasn’t sure what to make of them. He knew almost nothing about Luke when he really thought about it. Only what he heard from the news from the past four years.

He had to admit, it made him earn a little more respect for the kid. At first he’d seemed like a petulant child who was getting his favorite toy taken away, but now, Din wasn’t as sure that was the case. He had no more time to think on it as he and Luke passed each other on the mat, walking to opposite sides, then turning to face each other. 

In the blink of an eye Luke swung his bō with the finesse of a warrior. He moved forward before stopping in the middle of the mat as he pulled his bō up in defense. Din followed suit, taking on a more aggressive starting position. He could tell Luke was analyzing him, eyes flitting around to every point of his body. Din took the opportunity to attack. In one swift moment he had his bō mimicking a strike at Luke’s skull. 

“One, Zero.” The words had barely left his mouth before Luke made a counter attack. In a flash Luke had reversed their positions with a satisfied smirk. 

Without wasting any more time the two began to fight again in an explosion of movement. The people in the kwoon reacted to them, but Din’s focus narrowed in until it was only them in the room. He watched Luke’s movements carefully, anticipating and blocking every attack that came and returning his own. He picked up on a franticness in Lukes’s movements and took advantage, landing an attack on his ribs. 

“You’re too eager, you’re projecting your moves,” Din commented as they reset. 

“I don’t need your advice.” Despite his words, Luke waited, ready for Din’s next move. 

Luke swiftly blocked everything Din threw at him and pushed back even harder. In the next moment Luke attacked with a flurry of blows, catching Din off guard. He was stronger than he looked. 

“Two, two.” Luke had once again evened the score. 

There was barely a pause before they were at it again. This bout lasted longer than the others, both having picked up on each other’s gambit. They danced around each other, the only sound in Din’s ears were the clacking of their bō staffs and their heavy breathing. Neither was holding back. 

In a blur of motion Luke darted towards Din’s legs, throwing him off balance. Din rolled out of the throw but as he lifted his head he was met with Luke’s bō to his throat. Luke's eyes were no less intense this close. 

“Two, Three.” Luke stepped back into a ready position. “Better watch out, Djarin.” There was a satisfied smirk on his face. He was winning. Din wouldn’t give up that easily. 

He pulled out every trick he had, but Luke seemed to always be a step ahead. He was too fast, almost as if he could read Din’s mind. From the outside it would almost look like this was rehearsed. In the end, it was Din’s weight advantage that won him the point. He moved in close and pinned Luke's arm before throwing him down to the mat. The blond hit the ground on his back, breath escaping his lungs from the impact. 

Din almost went to help him up but Luke threw his legs backwards into a handstand before standing back up. He barely looked affected, the only sign of fatigue on him was the sweat on his forehead that matted down his blond hair. 

“Three, Three,” Din called. “And there’s no need to show off.” 

The next point would declare a winner. There was a smile on Luke’s face, different from the ones before. This one was more open, leaving Din feeling dizzy instead of insulted. 

In a decisive move Din attacked at Luke’s head, trading off his defense for offense. He had Luke on the move, nearly pushing him off the mat. However, before he could land a finishing blow Luke darted to the side, slipping his leg between Din’s and toppling him to the floor. When Din processed what happened, he was pinned under Luke’s hips on his chest and his bō at his neck. 

Din tried to understand it but there was no more time to ponder as Luke set on his next attacks. He was more aggressive than he’d been the rest of the fight but Din pushed back, not without some difficulty. Luke danced around Din with a frightening agility. The only thing that kept Din in the fight for so long were his reflexes. He knew he had to end this fight soon or Luke would eventually wear him down. 

Cheers erupted from the gathered crowd, but Din’s view had narrowed into Luke as he stood up. Din stayed on the ground, still a bit stunned from the end of the fight. He wasn’t really sure how to feel about its outcome. But one thing was for certain, he and Luke were drift compatible. Very drift compatible. 

Din was so lost in his thoughts he didn’t even realize Luke was reaching down to him until his hand was in his face. He took it and allowed Luke to help him to his feet. 

“You felt it too, didn’t you?” Luke asked.

“Yeah.”

#dinluke #star wars #luke skywalker #din djarin #art #dinluke fanart #fanfic #fanfiction #pacific rim au #dinluke au

[bloggingboutburgers]

Saw your most recent comic and I just wanted thank you so much. I’ve left a lot of fandom spaces recently due to rampant aphobia, so it’s a breath of fresh air to see this comic

From an AroAce reader

Yeah, arguably that's the reason I'm not engaging actively in any fandom anymore... ...Well, that, and somehow I get gratification from drawing comics about being aroace of all things, so I guess I don't miss it. This feels better.

But... Honestly, in a lot of people's defense, I'm not the first one who's raised this point and I hope I'm not the last, because we're far from having reached decent, widespread respect in that sense yet. I see tidbits of improvements little by little but... Yeah there's a very long way to go. If anything I'm glad we don't have to feel alone with that feeling, it's small consolation probably, but it's already something.

#anon #aroace #aromantic #asexual #fandom

[pixiemage]

I legitimately think a lot of people get too hung up on how other people write or draw characters (both in MCYT and outside of it). I sometimes feel like there's so much bitterness towards fellow fandom members just because they've chosen to enjoy a character or corner of the fandom in a different way. Do you picture the characters the same way the creators are IRL? Fun! Do you have a much more fanonized interpretation because you want to separate the characters from creators? Great! Do you tend to lean toward one kind of design overall in your art because that's just how you enjoy the act of creation? Fantastic!

Short, tall, thin, fat, human, hybrid, something entirely undefinable - every single option is correct. Every single option is right. That's the point of creativity and creative liberty. That's the point of fandom and the whole reason why fan art and fan fiction exist - to take what canon gives you and make something, whether that something clings to canon's every note, or if that something turns canon on its head. Especially if it turns canon on its head.

This is a vast fanbase built upon a sandbox game, and any creations we make should be treated the same. It doesn't matter if it doesn't fit the bill for what someone else thinks, and it doesn't matter if it doesn't fit some standard mold. If everyone else views Grian as a parrot avian, but you love writing him as a cod? Do it! If a lot of folks depict Tango as a blazeborn, but you fucking love the idea of him being an android? Well, for god's sake, what's stopping you? Make him an android! Does everyone else write Bdubs as short, but you think it'd be really funny if he was taller than half the hermits, so the short jokes are even more ridiculous? Then, holy shit, I wanna see that!

But to roll back to the point, fan creations is meant to be fun. And all of you out there being picky? As a viewer of other peoples' art and writing, don't go telling people they're "doing it wrong". Don't be critical. Don't tell someone they need to "do better" if their portrayal doesn't line up with what's in your head. There's no rules here. And similarly, there's no quota we need to meet on variety. There's no law someone is breaking if they're not following your expectations. If you're a viewer of art and fics, and you're pissed at someone because you believe they don't draw or write someone tall enough or short enough or thin enough or fat enough or young enough or old enough - make it yourself. Don't detract from someone else's joy just because their version of having fun in the fandom doesn't line up with yours.

People are going to create what they love. People write and draw from a place of inspiration and enjoyment and fun. If they choose to share it, they're doing that for free and of their own free will. They didn't share it for you. Fan artists and fan writers aren't here to be your dancing monkeys, we're here to just have fun. If you aren't seeing enough of whatever you're expecting to see, then don't demand it from other people who were proud enough of a piece of art to share it with the world. Make it yourself.

#fandom #mcyt #fanart #fanfiction

[starsstuddedsky]

Blonde Phase

Renjun x gn reader

summary: spontaneous hair decisions always end in regret. that's what you expect to hear when you tell renjun you're bleaching your hair, but instead you find support, and even his help. you should appreciate his wholehearted support but instead it has you wondering: why doesn't he care?

genre: fluff, minimal angst, technically they're in grad school but that's not particularly relevant, non idol au,

warnings: swearing, mentions of drinking, spontaneous hair decisions (i do not endorse), lmk if I missed any

wc: 4.4k

a/n: in the immortal words of charles boyle, the most intimate thing you can do with a lover is wash their hair. yknow i made fun of him for that until i wrote this. i see it. also its been so long since ive finishing anything, pls forgive me if this is bad. renjun i love u. as always I'd love to hear what you think <3

“I’m bleaching my hair.” If you say it fast enough, Renjun won’t be able to talk you out of it. The plastic bag swings around your wrist as you walk across the parking lot. “I’ve already bought the bleach and gloves and stuff, and I’m going to do it, today.”

He’s quiet for so long you check to make sure the call hasn’t dropped. “Okay.”

You almost drop your phone. “Okay?”

“Yeah,” he says, drawing the word out. “Was I supposed to say something else?”

“Um, yeah?” You say. “You have opinions about literally everything. You talked me out of buying those pants two days ago.” You finally get to your car, tossing the bag onto the passenger seat and half-falling behind the wheel.

“That’s because they were made of polyester, and the thrift store was still charging $15,” he says immediately. “That was a scam.”

“Money is temporary, drip is forever.”

“Those pants would have lasted a year max, before they fell apart, and you still haven’t learned how to sew so you wouldn’t even be able to mend them or upcycle them.”

“You know what, I didn’t buy the pants, so this fight is moot,” you say. You set the phone on speaker, turning the engine on to blast the AC.

“Well, not moot. Technically I won,” Renjun says.

“I’d respect you more if you weren’t insufferable.”

“Here I was thinking you appreciated my insight,” he says. “You even asked for it.”

“I did not!”

“You literally asked about bleaching your hair.”

“I said I was surprised you didn’t have an opinion, not that I wanted to hear it,” you say.

“Semantics,” Renjun says. “So what time do you want to come over?”

You frown. “Tonight?”

“The roommates are out of town for the whole weekend, and I have way better ventilation,” he says. “I’d much rather bleach it without passing out.” He pauses. “You do want help, right?”

“Honestly, I was not expecting support. I was fully ready to fight you on this,” you say.

He snorts. “Come over whenever, I'm not doing anything today.”

“See you in twenty minutes.” You hang up, feeling a strange ball of tension roll around in your gut. That was… too easy? Renjun always has something to say about your admittedly impulsive tendencies. But if he’s going to help you’re not going to reject it—knowing Renjun he’s probably already watching Youtube videos and learning more than you will ever know about bleaching hair.

And it’s Renjun. When have you done anything without his help?

.

.

Renjun opens the door wearing a wearied expression. He doesn’t bother to greet you or even smile, just unlocks the door and steps to the side.

“Hi to you, too,” you say, trading your shoes for the spare slippers resting by the doormat. You follow Renjun into the space that serves as kitchen, dining room, living room, and Jaemin’s miniature gym, with weights and mats stacked next to the television.

“Who the hell clogs a toilet and then leaves for the weekend,” Renjun says.

You set down your plastic bag full of hair products and frown. “That’s disgusting.”

Renjun leans against the counter. “And you didn’t have to spend the last forty minutes trying to unclog it.”

“So which of the guys are you going to murder?” You try to guess, running through his roommates: you find it hard to believe Jaemin would do such a thing. Jeno maybe, and Donghyuck would certainly think it’s funny. But, in all honesty, it could have been any of them.

“Don’t know,” Renjun says, “but knowing them, they’ll make a pact to protect each other.”

“Seriously?”

Renjun pauses, gaze sheepish. “It’s what I did when I accidentally killed Jaemin’s little succulent that survived his college dorm.”

You fake a gasp, placing a hand over your chest. “Every day I learn something new about you. That’s devious.”

“I was drunk!” Renjun says, holding up a finger. “And Jeno and Donghyuck pushed me into it, so it was equally their fault.”

“If you say so.” You glance around the apartment. “Where are they all?”

“Jaemin’s visiting family, Jeno has a soccer tournament, and Donghyuck said he’s going camping with Yangyang.” Renjun says, counting off with his fingers.

“Donghyuck and Yangyang are friends?”

“Yeah, according to them they bonded over dealing with me.”

“Those were their exact words?”

“Dealing with my ‘stupid ass,’” Renjun says.

“That’s more on brand.”

Renjun nods.

You think about Yangyang, Renjun’s friend from when he was a kid. You’ve met him a few times now, especially since he’s moved half an hour away from Renjun. He’s fun, always bringing out a chaotic side of Renjun whether it’s dancing on a bar or bringing out angry-Renjun. But Yangyang and Donghyuck?

“That’s a terrible friendship. They’re going to ruin you.”

Renjun nods again, but you see the smile hiding in his eyes. He can rant all he wants, you know he’s excited his friends are getting closer with each other.

You point at the bag. “So where are we doing this?”

You half expect him to lecture you about rash hair decisions but he just gestures to the kitchen. “I figure right here should be fine. The tiles should be pretty easy to clean and probably could use some bleach anyway.”

He drags the chair with a rickety leg from the dining table. You dig through the bag and set everything on the counter. While Renjun cracks a window open, you begin to mix the developer and the bleach, curling your lip at the sharp scent. Renjun joins you, pulling on a pair of gloves.

“Wow that’s strong,” he says, wincing.

“Yeah,” you say. “Definitely a good idea to do it here.”

When the powder is finally combined, you sit on the chair, Renjun following behind you. You section off your hair together, then he grabs the bowl and the brush.

He holds the thick paintbrush brush up against your hair, glancing at you, giving you one last chance to back down. You give him the nod of approval and he shifts back to focusing on your hair, brushing the bleach into it as carefully as he spreads paint on a canvas. He works section by section, carefully drenching your hair with the creamy solution.

“So, are you going to tell me why you decided to do this?”

You can’t resist turning and glancing at him. “I thought you approved.”

“I didn’t try to talk you out of it,” he says, “that doesn’t mean I’m not curious about how you came to this decision.”

You nod until Renjun uses his gloved hand to hold your head straight. “I suppose that’s fair.”

You pause, trying to find the right words. But you find yourself drifting back to Renjun. Why didn’t he ask this before the bleach was in your hair? It’s not like him to keep his opinions to himself. When you first met him, he was yelling at Donghyuck for going to a philosophy seminar just to fight with the notorious bigot of a professor (which Donghyuck did and then got kicked out, and proceeded to get the professor suspended). You only knew Mark back then, a friend from another class who invited you to meet some of his other friends in the dining hall. When Renjun turned to ask what you thought, you said Donghyuck should do what he thinks is right. Renjun didn’t hesitate to call you an idiot then. So why isn’t he calling you an idiot now?

To his credit Renjun doesn’t rush you. He continues to paint the bleach into your hair, content to wait for you to figure out an answer. Except you’re thinking about all the wrong questions. Like, seriously, why do you want him to call you an idiot?

“I want a change,” you finally say. “I’m stuck in a degree that will make me absolutely no money when I graduate, I can’t afford to break my lease, and don’t have any major relationships that need upheaving, so, hair.”

“‘A change?’” Renjun repeats. “Like, you woke up this morning and thought, today I’m going blonde?”

“Like, I have this feeling in my chest, this aching feeling that there’s something I need to do, someone I’m supposed to be, something more than the person I see in the mirror but I’ve made my decisions and I’m happy with my decisions and I genuinely like who I am. So, hair.”

You see Renjun’s hand falter out of the corner of your eye, halfway between the bleach mixture and your hair. He freezes for a heartbeat then continues to move, lifting some hair off your ear, careful not to brush the bleach onto your skin.

“‘So, hair,’” he says.

“Are you really going to repeat everything I say?”

This gets a short laugh from him. “I think the fumes are getting to me already.” He pauses, setting down the brush and stepping in front of you. “For what it’s worth, I like who you are, too. I’m really glad we’re friends.”

You smile at him. “Me too,” you say. “I definitely would have fucked up trying to bleach this on my own.”

.

.

“There’s still some bleach left,” Renjun says after he finishes with your roots. “You’re sure you don’t want your eyebrows to match?”

“Why don’t we do your eyebrows,” you say. “Better yet, why don’t we shave them off?”

Renjun sets down the brush. “Okay, no eyebrows.”

You grin at him. “That’s what I thought.”

He helps you get a plastic bag wrapped securely over your head, then sets the timer.

“What do you want to do for the next half hour?” You ask. “Preferably something that requires little to no movement.” You gesture to your head. “We’re not winning any frisbee tournaments tonight.”

“It was one time,” Renjun mutters, shaking his head and stepping around you plop down onto the couch. “We can watch something.”

You follow him, sitting on the other side, a cushion between you. The space feels strangely empty. Though you’ve spent plenty of time alone with Renjun, even alone with him at his apartment, the silence is usually interrupted by one of the guys getting bored of playing League, or coming back because they can’t go out to a bar without someone forgetting their ID, or in desperate need of Renjun’s expert advice (read: Jeno never remembers to ask Renjun to look over his submissions until 12 minutes before they’re due). The cushion between you never stays empty for long but the moments stretch on, only making the distance feel greater.

You wonder, not for the first time, how long it’s been since you’ve thought of Renjun as just a friend. If he was just a friend, you wouldn’t care so much about what he thinks. And if he was just a friend, you wouldn’t care so much that he suddenly doesn’t think.

You sneak a glance at him, fiddling with the remote for a couple seconds before realizing he grabbed the wrong one. He’s certainly always been handsome—that was undeniable from the moment you met him. But more than just being good looking, it’s Renjun himself. Not just those dark eyes, but the way they burn with passion (even when he’s arguing about the proper number of appetizers to order). It’s his perfectly shaped lips, the way they betray how he feels with a slight curve up or down—and his smile. Always, always his smile, beautiful and breathtaking even though you’ve seen it a thousand times.

He turns, a little furrow in his brow. “What?”

“Hm?”

“You’re looking at me funny,” he says. “Did I get bleach in my hair or something?”

You turn to face the TV, trying to pay attention to the show Renjun chose. “I wasn’t looking at you funny,” you say. “I wasn’t even looking at you.”

“If you say so,” Renjun says, “but if there’s a blonde spot anywhere in my hair, I’m so making you pay for it.”

You shake your head. Where the hell did those thoughts come from? Renjun, more than a friend? Sure, you’re close with him and sure, he’s objectively attractive, but you’ve never had those thoughts before. Well, at least not sober.

“Um, why are we watching Singles Inferno?”

“Because I asked and you were too busy not staring at me to answer, so I put it on,” Renjun says. “And don’t you dare try to tell me you don’t like it. I saw you rant on your Instagram story the other day.”

“Okay, but you don’t get it,” you say. “This bitch really has the audacity to to—”

“I saw your post,” Renjun says. “Believe me, I get it.”

“If you didn’t want to hear about it you should not have turned it on, because now I can’t stop,” you say. Renjun rolls his eyes but even as you delve into a full on essay about the horrible men particularly common in dating shows, you see the corners of his lips tilt up into a smile.

.

.

The timer goes off halfway through an episode.

“Saved by the buzzer,” Renjun says. “I’m putting a ban on anything reality TV related for the next three hours.”

“You’re the one that brought it up,” you mutter without any real annoyance. Despite his banter, Renjun dutifully listened to your rants, and even got mad along with you.

You drag a chair to the sink while Renjun drapes a towel over your shoulders. He puts on gloves and unwraps the bag, letting your hair fall into the empty sink.

“Close your eyes,” Renjun says gently. He tilts your head back, cupping the back of your head for a moment before pulling the head of the sink faucet out. He runs the water, long enough for you to peek your eyes open.

You’ve gotten used to seeing Renjun focused. He gets a little furrow in his brow, always glaring at his work. Before you were friends, you used to think he was actually angry, that his frowns and short tone were real. You’ve learned since then, it’s not his emotions, it’s his passion. The frown only comes out when he’s focused, trying to be perfect. When he cares.

“Unless you want bleach in them, close your eyes,” Renjun mutters, with absolutely no malice behind the words. His eyes shift to meet yours and that’s how you know you’re right. He can glare and bluster all he wants, he can’t hide his eyes, warm and shining. Like when he’s looking at his art, his gaze is a combination of soft and intense, creating something stronger than affection. Except he’s not looking at his art, he’s looking at you.

You squeeze your eyes shut, feeling your heartbeat pick up. Despite every attempt to shut down the thoughts, they race through your head, a stampede grown out of control. Renjun, who you’ve only known a year and a half but who has become one of your closest friends. Renjun, who never fails to share the only opinion you really care about. Renjun, who you can’t imagine life without. Renjun, who you’ve never dared to imagine life with.

He places a hand on your forehead, bringing the faucet closer to rinse your roots while keeping the water from pouring onto your face. You prepare for a cold shock but the water that soaks into your hair is the perfect temperature—not scalding hot, not freezing cold. Some water sprays over his hand, falling onto your eyelids and cheeks.

“Sorry,” Renjun murmurs. He holds the head farther away, running his fingers gently through the roots of your hair. He’s so close you can feel his breath, warm against your temple. You can feel his body, hovering over yours, and maybe it’s just your imagination, but warmth seems to emanate from it.

His friends would laugh at you if you described Renjun as soft to their face, but it’s the only adjective that captures the way he works the water through your hair. Soft and gentle and careful and nothing like the Renjun that has to corral everyone into his car at 3 in the morning. And yet this Renjun doesn’t feel like a stranger to you.

Washing your hair takes a lifetime, but as soon as he steps away and turns off the water, you miss it. You miss him, even though he’s only a couple feet away.

“You can open your eyes now,” he says. As soon as you do, he tosses a towel at you. It hits you in the face before you can get your hands up.

“Hey!”

“Sorry,” Renjun says, not sounding sorry at all. He manages to hold back the laugh but still grins at you, unashamed. He steps forward and pats your face dry, with the same gentleness as before, though there’s still a mischievous glint in his eyes. You yank the towel away before he gets any ideas, drying off your face on your down and wrapping it around your hair. You wring it out a couple times before letting go, doing your best to get it to fall evenly around your head.

You raise your eyebrows at Renjun. “Okay, how bad is it?”

“Okay, first of all, I’m insulted that you think there’s any way I’d fuck up you hair,” Renjun says. “And it looks really good. Blonde suits you.”

You take a deep breath and pull out your phone, studying yourself in the mirror and… he’s right. The color is even, somewhere between blonde and orange that is unavoidable when using bleach. Radical hair changes generally end in tears but looking at yourself in the mirror, you don’t feel the usual dissonance. The hair is different but somehow more familiar than the “normal” you that doesn’t feel right anymore.

“I’m right,” Renjun says.

You smile. “Yeah, you are.” You put down your phone, meeting his eyes. “Thank you, Renjun.”

“For what?”

“Doing all of this for me,” you say.

“It’s the least I could do,” he mumbles. “You’re my friend.”

You shake your head. “Thank you anyways.”

Renjun just shrugs and grabs the bowl, rinsing out the bleach in the sink. If you didn’t know any better, you’d think he’s avoiding your eyes.

You do your best to clean up the bleach from the floor, busying yourself until Renjun finishes. You wonder if you’re imagining the tiles getting a little bit whiter. Finally, he turns off the water and glances at you.

“You’re really happy with it?” He asks, sounding more like he doubts you rather than changing his opinion.

“Yeah,” you say, standing up. “I think it’s the ‘me’ of right now, you know?”

“Not really.”

“Like, I feel disjointed, and blonde hair is definitely not me, but it's the me that feels kind of all over the place, so even though it doesn’t look like me, it looks like me.” You wring your hands together, fingers tinged red.

“That makes no sense,” Renjun says, “but I think I get what you mean.” He smiles. “And I’m glad. I wouldn’t want you to have any regrets.”

So he did think this was a potential mistake? Why didn’t he say anything?

Renjun turns back to the sink, but before he can turn the water on, your voice calls his name. “Renjun?”

“Hm?” He doesn’t turn around.

“Why didn’t you fight me on this?”

He doesn’t move for a long moment. You wish you could see his face. “I have been told by certain people,” he begins, which is code for Donghyuck and Yangyang certified their position as Renjun’s worst nightmare. He turns to face you, wiping his hands on a towel.

“That I have a tendency to be overly opinionated in a generally negative direction. And I thought about it, and I realized I'm never really fully supportive, whether it’s a big decision, or, like, coffee, and I’ve always been this way, but, apparently, it’s especially… apparent with you.” He frowns. “This is all coming out wrong. I’m trying to say that it’s different when I’m around you. I’m different.”

Your eyes jump between his, trying to decipher what he’s saying. “Different?”

“I care a lot about you,” Renjun says, “more than anyone, actually.”

“Oh.” You blink once, twice. “Wait, you like me?”

Renjun’s eyes shift to the floor. “Yeah.”

You can’t help but let out a short laugh, reeling at the absurdity of it all. Renjun likes you? But he’s Renjun. Even though he’s the most common main character in your daydreams, you never once realistically thought he might be fantasizing about you too. But he likes you.

“I really didn’t want to say anything, I mean, before anything else you’re my friend, and I don’t want to ruin that,” Renjun says rapidly. “We’re good friends, and I really didn’t want to be the guy that pretends to be your friend but just wants to date you the whole time, that’s really not what I was trying to do, it’s just—”

“Renjun.” You put a hand on his shoulder and he freezes mid sentence, mouth still hanging open a little. Before he can move, you lean closer, the type of line you’d only dare to cross in your dreams.

“I’d like to kiss you,” you say softly. He blinks, eyes darting between your eyes and your lips.

“I’d like that,” he finally breathes. So you kiss him.

It starts light, his lips exactly as you imagined—soft and warm. His arm works its way around your waist, pulling you closer. The other works its way into your hair, still wet and sticking to your head. Renjun kisses like he’s been planning this for a long time, and maybe he has. Every movement is slow and careful, until he’s stolen all your air and even then you don’t want to pull away.

Your bravery fades the minute you meet his eyes. You bury your face into his chest, your cheek resting against your own hand. Renjun wraps both of his arms around you, holding you snugly in place.

“I like you, too,” you say into his chest. It’s the cowards route but if you look him in the eyes the words will never come out. “If it wasn’t obvious.”

“It wasn’t actually,” he says softly. “I think I drove all of my friends insane trying to figure out whether I should confess or not.”

“They all know?” You groan. “We’re never going to hear the end of this.”

“Yeah.” When Renjun laughs, it shakes your whole body. You can feel the rumbling, overtaking his heartbeat. “It’s okay though. It’s worth it.”

You turn your head, emerging from the sanctuary of his chest and tucking your head so that you can see his face. He smiles at you with the familiar warmth you’ve come to expect.

“Yeah,” you say, “it really is.”

Renjun grins.

“Your hair on the other hand…” He says.

“I thought you liked it!”

“I like it,” Renjun says, “but when has Donghyuck ever liked a single change to anyone’s hair?”

“Since when do you care what Donghyuck thinks?”

“I’m just saying now that we’re officially dating, my friends are going to be extra annoying,” Renjun says.

“Extra annoying? I didn’t think that was possible.”

“Don’t underestimate them.”

You groan, pressing your face back into his chest. “It’s not too late to get some hair dye.”

“You are not changing your hair because of my dumbass friends,” Renjun says.

“You like it?”

“You like it,” he says. “That’s the only opinion that really matters.” He pauses then adds, “But yeah. I like it.”

You grin, lifting your head to kiss his cheek. “Maybe we should dye your hair too.”

Renjun snorts. “Oh yeah?”

“We could have matching couples hair.”

He laughs out loud this time. “Maybe we should just get some shirts.”

“Three minutes of dating and you already want matching shirts? Huang Renjun, be honest.” You push off of him until you can place your hands on his shoulders and look him in the eyes. “Are you obsessed with me?”

“Yes,” he says, layering his voice in sarcasm that still isn’t enough to hide the truth of the admission. “All day every day, all I think about is you.”

“Well, see, that can’t be true because if you were that obsessed and I’m this close, you would already be kissing me because—” You forget whatever you were going to say, but it doesn’t really matter. Not when Renjun is kissing you like this. Your hands at his shoulders slink around his neck, while his wrap around your waist, leaning so close to you, you feel your back begin to dip.

Huang Renjun is poison, the kind that turns into a heart-shaped puff of pink when the bottle is opened. You melt into his kiss and it’s still not enough. You could die, right this instant, and you don’t think you’d notice. Death itself wouldn’t be able to tear you away from this moment.

“Renjun!” Donghyuck’s voice thunders through the kitchen. “How dare you? You bastard, you’re cheating?”

You jump apart, turning to see him looming in the doorway. His glare settles on you, and you see the exact moment he realizes he recognizes you.

“Jesus Christ, you could have knocked or something,” Renjun says.

“I live here too,” Donghyuck says automatically. He squints, then looks at Renjun, then back at you. “YN? Your hair is blonde.”

For some reason, you raise your hand and wave at him. “Hey!”

“Oh my god!” Donghyuck cries. “Yangyang owes me thirty dollars!” He races back out the door, screaming something that’s lost as the door swings shut.

You glance at Renjun. “Cheating?”

He frowns at the door, still a crack open. “Did he… seriously think you were someone else? That I was cheating on my unrequited crush?”

His eyes shift to yours. A heartbeat passes and you burst into laughter. His friends might be annoying, but they’re still endearing. You press a messy, smile-infested kiss to his lips and wonder if you’ll ever get used to the giddy feeling.

There’s plenty messy in your life, plenty to doubt. But watching Yangyang and Donghyuck drag their backpacks in (apparently Donghyuck forgot his power bank and they decided to give up on camping) as they attempt to interrogate Renjun on every detail, you can’t help but feel like it doesn’t really matter. You don’t doubt Renjun. You don’t doubt blonde suits you. And you don’t doubt the power of a last minute hair decision, not anymore.

thank you for reading!! likes, reblogs, and comments are always appreciated

#🌟 stars galaxy #nct #nct dream #nct x reader #nct dream x reader #nct reader #nct fanfic #nct dream fanfic #nct dream fluff #nct fluff #renjun #renjun fluff #huang renjun #nct renjun

[rauchendesgnu]

"Would you like a seat?" Gerry asks over his shoulder as Sam follows him deeper into the apartment. "Only if it isn't a bother," Sam says despite the throbbing in his hip. "Oh, it's no problem at all. Let me just--" The young goth rushes ahead into some sort of studio, clearly expecting Sam to follow. Every spot in the room is either occupied with a painting, or painted on, or splattered, or filled with utensils, tools, and other stuff that is necessary for art. Gerry sweeps a pile of pencil sketches from a chair and offers it to Sam, who sits gratefully, eyes still wandering over the atelier in overwhelmed amazement. "I can make some tea?" Gerry offers. "Oh," Sam says with an awkward smile. "I'm more one for coffee." "Do you mind if I make one for myself, then?" "No, go ahead." The sounds of an electric kettle being filled and switched on reaches Sam, whose eyes fall onto the sketches. He leans a bit closer to get a better look. It's not very polite, to go snooping into the drawings of a potential friend, but he can't help himself. He's always been so damn curious. The first sketch shows a short, thin man with dark hair that is starting to go grey despite his young but tired face. His brown skin is covered in scars and his eyes are glowing. Sam blinks, and for a second he feels like the drawing blinks back at him. He quickly moves the sketch to the bottom of the stack and shakes his head. It's the sleep deprivation. He's not starting to see movement in traditional sketches. The next few sketches show the same man, over and over again, eyes blazing, mouth set in a thin line, exhaustion weighing down a face that could once have been called handsome. He's not the only one, though. There's a second man, tall and broad, with red hair and a dusting of freckles on his nose and cheeks. He's barely recognisable in the fog that surrounds him that gets thicker with every new sketch Sam discovers. The last one is that of a man who wouldn't have looked out of place in Pride and Prejudice (as written by Cassandra Austen), with a neatly pressed collar and a cravat, as well as jewellery in the form of eyes. His grey eyes are intense, piercing Sam through the page. Sam is about to put the sketches back when a piece of paper slips, and his heart stops. The woman on the paper is a detailed pencil drawing of Celia. It's almost scary how perfect that sketch catches her likeness. Surely Gerry would have needed more than one look at her to draw her so realistically? Sam fights the wave of jealousy that wants to overtake him. It's none of his business who Celia meets in her free time. There is only that one sketch of her, and as Sam finds the last page, he's a bit disappointed to discover that there is just two sentences scribbled in nearly illegible handwriting.

The maze is sharp on my mind. The angles cut me when I try to think.

They are underlined with so much force that the pencil nearly broke through the paper. In the kitchen, the kettle turns off, and Sam quickly places the pages back in order. "Gerry," he says when his host returns, mug of tea in hand, "who are these people you sketched?" Gerry glances over his shoulder, then shrugs. "Now that you say it...I have no idea. These are from a while ago. Why, did I accidentally draw someone you know?" He says it with a smile, like it's a joke between artists. Did I accidentally draw you? Sam's gaze drifts back over the man with the glowing eyes. "I don't know," he says softly. "I don't know."

#the magnus protocol #tmagp fanfic #sam khalid #gerry keay #gerry delano #disabled character #tmagp #tma episode 65: binary #tmagp chester #tmagp norris #martin blackwood #jonah magnus #jonathan sims #jmj error #my writing #ficlet #alternate history

[destructive-poet]

Your post about Tav helping Astarion with his hair and post bath cuddles sounds so adorable 🥺🥺 Could I request a full fic for that idea? ❤️

oh of course! I was actually already wanting to write it a bit ❤️ I hope you like it :)

Spa Treatment

astarion x gn! human tav fluff drabble (~400 words, short and sweet.)

“Hold still,” they say, wooden comb gripped in hand, gently detangling the Vampire’s silver locks.

rating: mature

tw: none? (I mean I guess just the smallest bit suggestive for a second.)

minors dni!

The bath had been an undoubtedly fantastic idea.

For the first time in what felt like ages they had been able to have a large, private, warm bath at their whims. And certainly, the two were going to take the fullest advantage of it.

“Fuck,” he said, lowering himself into the water with a groan. “Gods, I haven’t done this in… Well, as long as I can remember.” The human at his side simply slides in, sitting down completely in the stone pool, up to their chest in water. “It’s nice.” They say, simply, though the blissful look on their face suggests it is far better than nice.

“Come here,” they say, reaching towards Astarion to tuck his hair behind his ears. “Look at all of this,” they muse, gesturing to a wide variety of soaps, lotions, and cosmetic concoctions. “It’s beautiful. I could live in here.”

The vampire adds, “As nice as that sounds, I think you would prune up. And I can’t drink from a piece of shriveled fruit, my dear.”

“Oh, so that’s what I am to you? Only a free meal?” They say, turning away and crossing their arms, pretending to be upset. Quickly, a solid figure pulls their own against it’s chest, drawing them back into it. He begins kissing down the back of their neck and across their shoulders, hands settling into their hips. “Not at all, you sustain me in more than one way, dear.” He teases, and the human whips around to kiss him, tasting clean and warm, their arms wrapping around him. It lasts a good while, before they break away, hand trailing across his arm, moving away to look at the jars and bottles lining the side of the bath.

Hours later, they sit on the ground, perfumed in a variety of exotic scents, scrubbed and lotioned and damp. A fur rug separates the two lovers from the cold, tiled floor. The fireplace in front of them warms them, wet hair now almost dried. “Hold still,” the human says, wooden comb gripped in hand, gently detangling the Vampire’s silver locks.

Their eyes seem to drift closed throughout the process, and when it’s done, they set the comb to the side, laying down onto the rug. Astarion is quick to follow, resting his head on their chest and curving his body to cradle his companion’s. “Dearest,” he whispers, and they pull the thick towel over his body, wriggling closer, as if they could live in his skin. “Goodnight, Astarion,” they yawn, half lidded eyes adoringly gazing up at him, before succumbing to the darkness.

He kisses their lavender and jasmine tasting hair, soaking in the warmth of his love, the fire, the fabric. “Goodnight, darling.”

#ao3 #astarion x tav #astarion x you #astarion x reader #astarion imagine #baldur's gate 3 #astarion #bg3 astarion #fluff #domestic fluff #ask #request

[starshipdecay]

Toon Zelda redesigns! I've never been fond of the Toon Zelda design, and these girls deserve some individuality. Design notes and rambles below the cut :D

(time to turn the proper grammar off i aint capitalizing all this. warning: i am verbose)

first up, tmc zelda!

shes the one most like toon zelda, since i felt like the vibes fit the *most* (though not a lot). also, with her place on the timeline, i could justify a lot of bits, like the wings and the cape

the cape! obvs it comes from the toon zelda base design, but also it involves skyloftian fashion! i take the timeline as a challenge, and i once saw a take somewhere that the skyloftians all wear their family crests (most often birds lol) on their person. zelda here (and link too) do just that, wearing their family crests on little caplets. on the back is, of course the royal crest

i went very cutesy princess for her. tmc has such a *whimsical* vibe that i feel is very. muted? by the fact its stuck with the toon style. so i wanted to put in that vibe here. also her sprites make it look like her skirt is super poofy, so how could i not?

curly hair: i wanted something interesting, and most zeldas have straight hair. so! adds to the cuteness

i didnt draw it so well but she (and link) both have very sleepy expressions. zelda especially just has a sleepy expression in her sprite, its quite adorable.

shes not as decked out as other princesses, cuz i see tmc taking place before the royal family really starts to get *royal* as we see it. shes still of course got a tiara and some embroidery tho.

Tetra! her base design isnt all that changed from the original. her name is a fun hc of mine tho. i think "von Hyrule" sounds better as a surname than just "hyrule". shes not zelda, but shes still a descendant.

(WW) princess z (as i call her)

I went more oot zelda vibes for her, since she would be closer, temporally, to oot. i also went very warm, since ive never seen the flood as a *warm* endeavor.

shes got the shoulder danglies, as most zeldas have shoulder armor of some kind. the danglies instead of actual armor are supposed to kind of evoke a royal sea captain kind of vibe.

shes ghostly, with a fish-eyed stare. shes been dead and gone for a long time. shes also a bit taller and a few years older than tetra (as of ww). shes just some spectre the king saw in tetra, not at all a close match

tetra, being smaller than princess z, doesnt fit into the clothes. the dress is too big for her (as is in canon gd that skirt is WAY too long for her), the coat is baggy. the role of a princess *literally* does not fit her.

the ribbons! theyre my replacement for the wings, and they represent the wind in the game! since its represented by white lines, the ribbons are a perfect symbolic match. (also, a note, tetras hair is shorter and coarser than princess z's)

i mostly bullshitted the blue panel but the vague idea i gave it was 'a hope for the triforce to give good fortunes to the people' (pictured as dots, mostly behind her arms)

Pirate Queen Tetra

ph! about a year has passed, and tetra has really grown into her own! as well as literally grown!

shes still tetra, pirate and captain, but shes incorporated that royal heritage into her identity: quite literally! she made piecemeal of the original outfit (what was left of it anyway after the fight), and added bits and pieces to her new life.

she also takes full advantage of said heritage to call herself pirate queen. its great for branding. whos gonna say she CANT go by pirate queen?

the seagull feather is from Aryll. only crew member tetra wears a trinket from (who can say no to that ball of sunshine! certainly not tetra)

not many notes. yall can see whats there. (also she still wears her hair in a bun, its just in a low bun (you can almost see it) when she wears her hat)

st zelda!

first note is: shes not a princess! shes an heiress of the company tetra had made and left behind. hence her title of Lady zelda. ("new hyrule" rly just like-- the ending of ww was *literally* that hyrule is dead and thats okay. how did they miss that :sob emoji:) also calling her Lady Zelda fits with the train vibes

shes in a 1880s style bustle dress because 1) i am OBSESSED with bustle dresses. i love them. so much. 2) the more historical vibe works really well with trains! also a lot of the other outfits in the game have late victorian vibes, so shes certainly not out of place.

her hat (and gloves): any proper lady has a hat on when going about town, however, when she gets body snatched, she pulled out her hatpin to use (ineffectively) as a weapon (she IS tetras great-great-granddaughter), causing her to lose her hat *and* hairdo.

shes still got the hatpin in her ghost form, too. she uses it to threaten people for funsies

Ribbons! on the topic of hairdo, her ribbons! visually tying her to tetras design, the ribbons here instead take on the image of train tracks, with her pin (on the left side) evoking a train engine. the pin also makes her look rich and girly. when her hair comes undone, this makes the ribbons all loose, like how the train tracks disappear in game. (the hat also kinda connects her to tetra)

thanks for reading :D i hope you liked reading this as much as i liked typing it

#loz #legend of zelda #princess zelda #tetra #wind waker #minish cap #spirit tracks #phantom hourglass #zelda #zelda fanart #the legend of zelda #ww tetra #ww zelda #st zelda #minish cap zelda #the wind waker #loz ww #starship art #ive got more designs down the mental pipeline #these ones just came first cuz i dislike toon zeldas design

[dairy-farmer]

You know that annoying "redeemed by a Good Woman/redeemed by puss" troupe?

I just remembered Match :Dc

Kon's evil Clone twin. The one where they actually SUCCEEDED and he's totally down to kill Superman and is also super unstable physically etc.

But consider!

Secret Relationship! Bats are paranoid after all. Can't let our enemies or Dads know we're dating! Or fuuuuuckin.

So when the switch happens? And "Superboy" gets a nasty blow to the head that gives him spotty memory? Of COURSE his... "Best Friend"(tm) wink wink nudge nudge, is gonna take care of him. The whole team obviously knows. But no one else does.

So Match has no idea what's happening.

Has he been Made? THAT FAST? Shit, Bats really ARE something else. Better kill hi-... why is he hugging me? This... IS a hug, right? He's never had one before. It's not awful.

And so Match keeps pretending to be Kon. Slowly gets "better". Forgot a lot about Robin and their Relationship, of course, so they have to start basicly over. But isn't Rob the BEST? So patient! Hand holding. Cuddles. Tender kisses.

Hand jobs.

It blows Match's MIND. This? This is fantastic. No one tells him what to do, treats him like an animal, calls him an "it", and?? He gets all these soft touches and kisses? Robin's even talking about maybe having sex "again"!

Fuck. He is TOTALLY stealing the other clone's Life. RIP to that guy. His now.

Except? No The Fuck You Don't, Bitch(tm). Kon is actively waging a one man war against his captors. Fuck these guys. Luthor in particular. He has a boyfriend to get back too and a Usurper to curbstomp. Or fuck. Depends on how hot he is and if he's a dick. Kon DOES have a well known incest kink.

Might keep him.

But back with Match? B-be gentle with him Robin~ *bats eyelashs* *shoulder smack* they're doing the whole shebang. Cabin by a lake. Pizza and dancing. Sparkling grape juice since booze won't effect "kon" anyway.

Just? Everything Tim can think off to make it fun and memorable. He even remembered lube this time, because NOW he knows Kon is too big to take without a little help. It's like a do-over, almost.

It's ALSO the moment Match's loyalties completely fuckin switch. Ride or Die with THIS guy, specifically. [Robin has given Match: The Sex. Match will now willingly die for Robin.]

It's a literally life-changing First Time for Match and a Really Good for Tim. Laughing and tired from dancing, hands roaming each other's bodies, lazily finding what feels good. Tim sighing in pleasure, a pretty little roll of his body arching his back, as he let's his legs fall wide. Smiles at Match.

His hands still loosing hugging Match close, his kissable lips, soft in a lazy grin. The body under Match relaxed and full of trust. Touching him back. Just to feel his skin, too make him feel good too. Looking at him like he's wonderful. Like he's worth loving.

IS Loved.

Match wants to worship this. Steal it away. To hell with the world and "saving" it. He uses a brain meant for grand battle strategies, to memories every twitch and squeeze around his rocking fingers. What makes Rob feel good. What makes him feel BETTER.

Kisses his way down.

Gentle. Careful, so careful. He has so much strength.

He wishes he could suck, but doesn't trust himself. Luckily his tounge draws delight anyway. He let Rob roll them. Feels cradled, between those thighs, as Rob desperately rides his face.

Takes so much control for Rob to stop. He's shaking with it. He wants to continue so BAD. But wants Match's cock more. So Match gets passed the lube. Blindly fumbles to get ready.

He hears something, flying. Probably a plane. Not important. Robin's important. Lifts him so EASY. Feels him shudder, turned on by how easy Match moves him. They line up, and Match slides in like he's always been there. He has to let go or his grip will get too tight. Amazing. Wet, hot, soft... w-words... he can't...

And THAT'S when he gets a sharp stab to the arm with an injecter and a Smiling But PISSED, grabbed-by-the-throat-hard-enough-to-break-the-bed-frame Slam from ACTUAL Kon. Who has escaped.

And found Match in bed with his boyfriend.

The injector has the stabilizing agent they were withholding. The choke hold however? That's for him. Sup, buuuuuddy. Enjoying my boyfriend? Yeah, he DOES feel good. I would know!

Give me a reason not to kill you where you lay :)

Tim is confused as hell. Still horny. But very alarmed. Two Kons? One is clearly NOT Kon. Please tell him it's not the one he's in bed with. He does NOT want to be a cheater! Kon he would NEVER cheat! (Kon knows.)

Match... offers to switch sides? He would kill for Tim. Die for him. Is in love. Wants to be a person. Is mildly to moderately insane but can TOTALLY promise to keep a lid on his Crazy.

.....also this is kinda hot. Wanna make out? Do you think Tim would enjoy that?

Kon? Is basicly? Yyyyyep. That's a 'Me but fucked up' alright! Unfortunate. Hot though. Let's keep him. He's like one of those really, really ugly dogs you kinda can't help but falling in love with.

Tim? Still impaled on SOMEBODY'S dick and just wants to know what's going the fuck on. Face in his hands. Why is he dating this asshole? Why!? *gets smoochs* oh, right. Tim loves him.

Damn it.

Fine! Fuck it! Both of you, I GUESS, get over here. Time to live out some of those fantasies Tim's had but couldn't do with only one boyfriend. Kon! Naked! You! Name? Match. Okay, Match? Move your hips! *vigorous sex noises!!!*

And so they threesome it out! Until Tim can no longer keep up. Then Match n Kon pull on pants and blow up some bases, get pizzas, and come back for "round two". It's a great week!

Tim ends up on bedrest. Looks vaguely mauled. But with a delightfully dewy well-fucked shine~ to complexion.

-🐼🐼🐼

sex with tim getting ppl to stop being evil😍😍😍!

#answered asks #asks #anonymous

[xcherryerim]

A kiss On the Lips

Derek x chubby gn!reader | wc: 3.1k

“And if it feels right, promise I don’t mind. And if it feels right, promise I’ll stay here all night” — Let Me Love You by Ariana Grande

SMUT ONE SHOT | MDNI | +18 ONLY

Warning: Sexual tension | oral sex (to reader) | unprotected sex | penetration | light spanking | a bit of aftercare. | porn with plot

If you wanna go directly to the smut look for the “…”

As you continued to prepare drinks for the eager patrons, your hands grew weary, but there was no time for rest. This was no ordinary night; Derek Danforth, the wealthy and notorious playboy had decided to splurge on a round of drinks for the entire club. Glancing at the impeccably dressed man with blonde highlights, his fishnet shirt adorned with sparkling diamonds, and a black coat was surrounded by an entourage of stunning models. You couldn't help but let out a wry chuckle. Just another night at the club, you thought to yourself.

When you tried to get back to your work, your gaze quickly met his hazel eyes. Derek flashed you a dazzling smile, and in the blink of an eye, he appeared right in front of you, leaning casually against the counter. 

Derek scanned the menu above you with a confident air before turning to face you once more, his smile unchanged. "Let me get a 'Kiss On The Lips,' please."

The unexpected request caught you off guard, but you tried to hide your surprise. With a deep breath, you regained your composure and replied, the corner of your lips raising lightly. 

"That's going to cost ya."

Raising an eyebrow, Derek slid onto a nearby stool, his gaze locked on yours as he queried, "How much?"

You leaned against the counter and without missing a beat you responded. "Fifty bucks." 

His eyes widened slightly, seemingly surprised by your bold response. "For a drink?"

Surprised by his reaction, you couldn't resist the urge to chuckle at his expense. "Oh, it's a drink?! I must admit, I've never heard of that one before." The corner of your mouth curved into a playful grin as you watched him burst into laughter, the sound echoing throughout the bustling club.

Recovering from his fit of giggles, Derek shook his head, still chuckling softly. "You thought I meant..." he trailed off, his eyes twinkling with amusement.

With a wink, you retorted, "Yeah, sorry. I should've known better, seeing as how you have a certain... type." Your attention shifted towards the VIP section where the models were dancing and sipping their drinks, unable to hide your amusement at the sight.

Derek raised an eyebrow, his expression turned more serious despite the lingering twinkle in his eyes. "What are you implying?"

You got closer, your eyes scanning the new sight of him. "I mean, I'm not a model." You shrugged, chuckling as your clothes clung tight to your curvy body from the hot atmosphere of the bar, a sight that wouldn’t go unnoticed by Derek. 

He bit his rosy lips and stared at your form longer than intended. "Are you kidding? You're way past attractive," 

"Hey, wow, I never said I wasn't," you returned, flashing a proud grin in return. "But you prefer models."

Derek's hazel eyes flickered over you, appraisingly, before he responded, "There are models your size. And bigger." A faint smile played on his lips as he subtly traced his fingers along the contours of your hand, his touch both teasing and intimate.

"You'd make a good one, actually...and your hands are quite beautiful too," With a sense of reverence, he delicately traced the lines of your fingers, drawing out each touch as if savoring every moment.

 "You'd make a great hand model as well..." His voice trailed off, lost in thoughts of your nimble fingers exploring his body, teasing and pleasuring him in ways that left him wanting.

You rolled your eyes at his flattery, trying to keep things professional. "All that charm won't get you a free drink." You attempted to maintain a stern facade, but the heat in your cheeks gave away your true feelings.

Derek's eyes twinkled with mischief as he proposed, his voice velvety smooth, "How about this? If you give me a 'kiss on the lips' after I finish my drink, you'll reward me with another kiss for being such a 'good boy.' And then..." His fingertips trailed along your knuckles, making your knees weak. "I take you to the dance floor and then, we finish the day off with you taking me home?"

You stood there, processing his words, uncertainty clouding your thoughts. Was he truly serious about this proposition? But the way his eyes lingered on you, tracing your form, and the subtle hint of pink in his cheeks left no doubt. Derek was dead serious.

You nodded in agreement, focusing on preparing the drink while avoiding eye contact. Your hands trembled slightly, a mix of nervousness and excitement causing your pulse to race. Derek's proposition was bold, and you found yourself torn between curiosity and caution.

He snickered, his eyes sparkling with mischief. "Why so shy now? I don't bite." He smiled innocently, but the promise in his voice was anything but innocent. "Unless you want me to."

He winked a sly challenge hanging in the air as he patiently waited for his drink. You couldn't help but feel drawn to him, the allure of danger and passion swirling around him like a magnetic force.

As soon as you finished mixing the concoction, Derek took a sip, his full lips moving sensuously around the rim of the glass. You found yourself mesmerized by the sight, eager for the promise of his next kiss.

When Derek finally set the empty glass aside, you leaned in close, your heart pounding in your chest as the electricity between you reached a fever pitch. His lips were warm and inviting, urging you to lose yourself in the moment. The kiss deepened,  sparks flying as tongues intertwined.

Breathless and panting from the intensity, you reluctantly pulled away, gazes locked on each other, admiring their mutual disheveled image. Derek's eyes danced with lust as he whispered hoarsely, "Now, can I take you to dance?"

You hesitated for a moment, the thrill of the unknown coursing through your veins. Nodding, you allowed yourself to be swept away by the music, joining Derek on the dance floor. The pulsing beats fueled your passion, and you found yourself lost in the sensuality of the moment.

His strong arms wrapped around you, pressing your body tightly against his. The heat of his touch sent waves of desire through you, and you couldn't help but notice the evidence of his desire pressed against your rear.

You teased him gently, your voice dripping with flirtation. "Having fun?"

Derek's response was a low murmur, filled with unbridled hunger that made your heart race. "Oh, you have no idea," he whispered, his left hand resting possessively on your hip while his right hand gripped your ass cheek, drawing you even closer.

As the night wore on and the club began to wind down, Derek's eyes darkened with desire as he looked at you, the longing in his gaze unmistakable. He ran his hand through his hair, a nervous gesture that belied his usual confidence.

"Let's go to your place," he suggested, hastily shrugging on his black coat. You raised an eyebrow, aware of the stark contrast between your humble apartment and his lavish estate. 

"Why not yours?" you asked curiously, wondering why he chose your home over his.

Derek's expression softened, a hint of sadness flickering in his eyes before disappearing as quickly as it came. "It'll be nice to be somewhere else that isn't home..." he murmured, his voice tinged with melancholy that piqued your interest.

Before you could probe further, he gently lifted your chin, his fingers firm yet tender. "Let's go," he whispered, his breath warm against your skin. There was a sense of urgency in his voice, a need that spoke volumes about his desire for you. "I can't wait much longer."

… 

"Mmh... oh, fuck!" Derek exclaimed, his voice barely above a whisper as he ravaged your lips in a desperate kiss. As soon as you opened the door to your apartment, he wasted no time unbuttoning your uniform, his hands trembling with anticipation. The intensity of his kiss left you breathless, struggling to catch your breath.

"Where?" he asked between frantic kisses, his eyes searching for guidance in the dimly lit room.

You managed to point towards the bedroom, your voice barely audible above the sound of his lips crashing on yours. Satisfied with your answer, Derek continued to kiss you with reckless abandon, guiding your body toward the room with a sense of urgency that bordered on desperation.

Finally, he threw you gently onto the bed, landing on top of you with a primal need that left you gasping for air. The weight of his body pressed against yours, and you could feel the evidence of his desire through his pants.

His trembling lips trailed down to your neck, nuzzling the sensitive skin as he discarded the long-sleeved shirt you wore. His hands roamed over your body, and you felt a surge of excitement and anticipation that left you breathless. Through his groans and the hickeys he left behind, you could just make out the words, "You smell so good."

As you ran your fingers through his curls, you watched Derek's reaction, his body melting under your touch. It wasn't until you tightened your grip slightly that he reacted, releasing a guttural moan that shook his entire frame. Surprise and confusion crossed his features, his dilated pupils fixated on your face.

Without warning, Derek's skilled fingers worked their way across your zipper, swiftly undoing it. Gasps escaped your lips as he did the same with his clothing, revealing his arousal beneath.

"Can you face fuck me?" he demanded abruptly, his eyes locking onto yours. The change in his tone was unmistakable; this wasn't a request for permission but a claim of what he desired.

Surprised by the sudden shift, you stammered, "What?" before realizing the implications of his words. Before you could protest further, he peeled away the rest of your clothing, revealing your naked form beneath.

"You're lucky," he whispered hoarsely, his voice tinged with a husky timbre. "I'm usually the one doing the face fucking, not the other way around... but,”

He parted your legs, his eyes gleaming with forbidden hunger. His eyes locked with yours, filled with raw desire and a promise of pleasure yet to come. 

“I want to be choked between your thighs as I taste you."

His eyes locked with yours, and you felt a wave of desire wash over you, catching your breath in your throat. There was a mix of shock and excitement at his request, but the allure of his suggestion was impossible to deny. Nodding in agreement, you encouraged him to proceed, curiosity getting the best of you.

Derek's eyes darkened, and you felt a deep sense of intimacy as his gaze never left yours while he positioned himself between your legs. His lips gently grazed your skin, sending shivers down your spine. As his talented tongue began to explore, each delicate flick and swipe, created a sensation that was unlike anything you'd ever experienced.

The tips of his fingers lightly brushed against the throbbing between your legs, eliciting gasps from you. His rhythm was steady, yet passionate, his tongue delving deeper, coaxing you higher and higher with each pass. Your breath became uneven, mingling with the sounds of his eager exploration.

As the intensity built within you, so did the connection between you two. You could feel Derek's focus solely on pleasing you, the lovemaking becoming a dance of sorts, a beautiful exchange of pleasure and desire. Each lick, suckle, and nibble drove you wilder, your body arching in response.

you reached out and ran your fingers through his hair, holding him in place with a firm grip. Your moans grew louder and more intense, and your thighs instinctively wrapped around him, pulling his head closer, and urging him to delve deeper into the forbidden territory. Your fingers dug into his curls, silently begging him to continue as the pleasure built within you.

Derek moaned loudly, his arousal growing with every sound you made. Wrapping his arms around your thighs, he pulled you closer, positioning himself perfectly between your legs. His tongue darted and swirled, sending waves of pleasure coursing through your body like wildfire.

Derek tapped your thighs, signaling the need for air. Reluctantly, you released him, your eyes drawn to the mixture of fluids and saliva coating his mouth and chin. There was something undeniably erotic about the sight, its raw nature turning you on even more.

He panted heavily as he commanded, "Get on fours." Without protest, you complied, laying your stomach flat on the bed while your legs dangling off the side. The vulnerability you felt only added to the excitement building within you.

Derek admired the view from behind, his eyes tracing the curves of your body. "So big..." he murmured, biting his lip in anticipation. His large hands smacked your ass, the stinging sensation leaving a clear mark on your skin. Each strike was deliberate, designed to heighten your arousal even further.

He admired the sight of his length disappearing between your rounded behind, and you could tell he was struggling to maintain control. A low, pained whimper escaped him, the sound raw and genuine. It seemed as though he'd been yearning for this moment since the very first time he'd laid eyes on you at the bar.

With renewed vigor, Derek began thrusting, his movements fierce and unrestrained. "God," he breathed out the words, the phrase echoing in your ears. "I can't get enough of you," he said, his nails digging into your love handles as a testament to his desire and the intensity of the moment.

The room was now filled with the sounds of skin slapping against each other, a symphony of uncontrolled whimpers, and your hungry moans. 

"Don't hold back, let me hear you, baby," Derek panted, his voice barely above a whisper. His words were a command, an invitation to let loose and give yourself to the pleasure completely. As he sank even deeper inside you, your body convulsed, the intensity growing with each thrust.

You countered his statement with a smirk, "You can do better than that," your words laced with challenge, goading him further into the realm of pleasure.

Chuckling, Derek responded, "Is that so?" His smirk only grew wider. "Fine. Hands behind your back." He quickly seized your wrists, guiding them into place and holding them firmly. With each thrust, he increased the force, his body moving in a cadence that pushed you to the brink of madness.

"Louder," he commanded, his voice taking on a different tone when he whispered your name, tinged with a hint of neediness. The demand was evident in the tone of his voice, and you knew that obeying would only fuel the fire raging between you both.

"Let me hear you," he insisted, his authority unmistakable. Your body trembled, anticipation building with each word and thrust.

You cried out in pure pleasure, your voice echoing through the room as Derek's thrusts became more forceful. His command had pushed you beyond any limits you thought existed, driving you to new heights of ecstasy. Your body writhed beneath him, your moans filling the space as he continued to dominate you in every sense of the word.

The tension built, each second drawing you closer to your climax. With each thrust, your ecstasy grew, coupled with the knowledge that Derek's release was near. He leaned forward, pressing his lips to your ear, the heat of his breath mingling with yours.

His voice was a rough, desperate growl as he declared, "I bet all our neighbors can hear you, I bet they all know what a dirty little slut you are." The words were tinged with pride and possession, his grip tightening on your wrists as if to emphasize his claim.

You giggled despite yourself, the playfulness in your voice belied the intensity of the situation. "I bet they can hear you too."

"How can't they?" Derek retorted, his eyes gleaming with devilish delight. With a resounding slap, he struck your ass, the sting only adding to the pleasure. "If I'm fucking this sweet thing of yours."

He paused, admiring the sight before him. Tracing his hand along your ass, he marveled at the hickeys on your neck and the marks covering your body. "You're already hot, but you look even hotter with my marks all over you." The admission was equal parts tender and possessive, a testament to his need for dominance and control.

You began to sway your hips in tandem with his thrusts, your movements teasing his length with every motion. Derek groaned loudly, his body tense with anticipation. His eyes remained glued to the sight unfolding before him.

"Oh, yeah," he muttered, his eyes glued to the sight. "Thrust against my cock." His voice was a plea, a silent command that you couldn't ignore. With a wicked smile, you obliged, matching his movements with your own. Each thrust sent waves of pleasure coursing through both of you, the rhythm intensifying as you fed off each other's energy.

Derek bit his lip, his eyes gleaming with lust as he watched the spectacle unfold. The room was alive with the sounds of your bodies connecting, the evidence of your passion on full display for anyone with the courage to peek inside. 

Time seemed to slow down, each moment stretching into eternity as you lost yourself in the dance of flesh and desire. The world outside faded away, leaving only the two of you to revel in your primal connection. As you moved together, Derek's hands traced the marks he'd left on your body, a visual testament to the night you shared.

After several minutes of intense passion, Derek found his release, burying himself deep within you as warmth flooded your core. His body shook, his breaths becoming ragged as he sought to regain control. He continued to thrust, prolonging the sensation until you too reached your peak. Together, you rode the waves of pleasure, surrendering to the power of your connection.

Once spent, you both collapsed on the bed, your bodies sticky and slick with sweat and passion. Derek's head fell onto your thighs, the same limbs that had choked him moments earlier. His breaths were shallow, his heartbeat slowing down to a normal rhythm. He pressed a gentle kiss to your skin, the gesture charged with meaning and gratitude.

Contentment washed over both of you as you lay there, catching your breath. His lips curved into a satisfied smile, his eyes filled with affection. He offered a soft yet meaningful remark, "This feels nice."

With a smile, you continued to caress his hair, enjoying the quiet moment of intimacy that followed the frenzy of desire. Your fingers ran through his locks, a soothing gesture that spoke volumes about the connection you shared.

Thank you for reading!

If you only want to see my smut work, consider following @xxxcherryerim where I reblog my work!

btw sorry if this was lowkey bad but i been feeling shitty the whole week idk why.

taglist: @freak-accident419 @joshhutchersonsgf @valreanakuroo @jhutch-bf @cassiecasluciluce @jhutchismyl0verb0y (if you want to be added let me know!)

#derek danforth smut #derek danforth #derek danforth x gn!reader #derek danforth x you #derek danforth x reader #derek danforth headcanons #derek danforth fluff #mike schmidt #mike schimdt smut #josh futturman smut #clapton davis smut #jhutch #jhutch1992

[deconstructthesoup]

So, this is inspired by @tai-janai's new Slay the Poet AU, where LQ has to rescue the Narrator and is being guided by Shifty. I saw their idea post, and my brain demanded that I put my own spin on it, so... yeah. Go check out their AU, though, it's probably gonna be better than mine and it actually has drawings.

I've already typed out the overarching plot (tldr, Shifty's the player and LQ is the "guide," and Narry is a professor who's trapped in a library in an abandoned city), but here's what I think the Narrator's chapter 2 vessels would be like:

The Wizard: You get the Wizard if you don't go into the library's basement with the knife, you make the decision to free the Professor, and you resist when the Guide makes the desperate choice to take over your body (while repeatedly apologizing over and over in your mind). The Wizard is unflinchingly kind and has that classic Disney-fairytale whimsy about him, and will always encourage you no matter what you do---and is the only one who undoubtedly means you no harm. The voice you gain in your head is the Voice of the Apprentice, who believes that the Professor is a learned and wise soul who can teach us everything, and we must listen to him.

The Warlock: You get the Warlock if you don't go into the library's basement with the knife, make him think you're going to free him, and kill him---either via getting the knife or letting the Guide take you over and winning the ensuing struggle. The Warlock is a slightly draconic being who is devious and cunning, but very clearly bitter towards you, and there's no doubt that he's thirsting for revenge. The voice you gain in your head is the Voice of the Charming, who uses flattery and deceit to get her way, and encourages you to do the same to the Professor---after all, we did it once, and we can do it again, can't we?

The Creation: You get the Creation if you immediately kill the Professor, attempt to leave and fail (which causes the Guide to panic, saying that this wasn't how it was supposed to happen and he doesn't know what's wrong), and kill yourself once you see no other way out. The Creation is a stitched-up, reanimated corpse who somehow managed to bring himself back, and he's a lonely soul who just wants you to set him free. The voice you gain in your head is the Voice of the Restless, who's a listless and tired individual who's aching for things to change... and whether or not we choose to help the Professor or not is entirely up to us.

The Scientist: You get the Scientist if you go into the basement---either armed or unarmed---talk with him, and decide to just leave him there... except, if you do, he'll figure a way out, and he'll electrocute you with a single touch. The Scientist is every bit the sadistic mad genius, and while he knows full well that he needs you in order to get out, he sees no problem with torturing you if that's what it takes---and he's incredibly transparent about his desire to end you once he's finally free. The voice you gain in your head is the Voice of the Doll, who claims that she's not scared and that everything is fine, but is very bad at lying and is clearly shaken by everything the Professor does.

The Academic: You get the Academic if you go down into the basement with the knife, talk with him, attempt to kill him... and when he fights back, you submit. The Academic is self-absorbed, condescending, and controlling, believing himself to be superior to you in every way---and he soon proves that he's not just some entitled asshole, as he's able to take control of you with his words alone. The voice you gain in your head is the Voice of the Humbled, who is openly terrified of the Professor and sees no problem with just doing what he says.

The Archivist: You get the Archivist if you go down into the basement with the knife, decide to free him instead, and resist when the Guide takes you over. The Archivist, who is free from his chains but is unable to escape without your help, has nothing better to do other than to reorganize and catalog the books in the library, and has become incredibly cynical and emotionless as a result. The voice you gain in your head is the Voice of the Curious, who constantly asks questions and wants to look further into random things---something that at first seems irritating, but you eventually realize just how helpful she can be...

The Doctor: You get the Doctor if you go down into the basement with the knife, talk with him, attempt to kill him, and fight him until neither of you can fight anymore. The Doctor openly hates you and sees you as his only obstacle, and will engage you in combat whether you want to or not---and once you fight back, you discover that no matter how brutally you fight, he knows just how to set his organs back to normal, and he knows just how to wreck yours. The voice you gain in your head is the Voice of the Hateful, who wants nothing more than to crush the Professor to a pulp and make him suffer.

The Dragon: You get the Dragon if you go down into the basement without the knife, decide to free him, and don't resist when the Guide takes you over---though you do let the Professor win, in the end. The Dragon is the most beastlike and inhuman of the vessels, and all he wants is to devour you so that he may escape. The voice you gain in your head is the Voice of the Warrior, and she knows exactly how to fight him so that you can make it out of there alive... but be sure to listen to her, because ignoring her warnings could end very badly.

The Inventor: You get the Inventor if you either kill him immediately and check to see if he's dead, or if you question for one second whether or not he's armed... either way, you soon discover that you've brought a knife to a gunfight. The Inventor is cheerful yet murderous, and has several contraptions up his sleeves that are designed to end you---in all sorts of fun and exciting ways. The voice you gain in your head is the Voice of the Prepared, who's quick on her feet and can easily improvise ways to evade the Professor's onslaughts.

The Substitute: You get the Substitute if you avoid going to the library entirely, and instead choose to wander the city---resulting in the city reverting entirely to libraries. Because of this, the Substitute starts off as nothing more than a blank slate of a man, and gets more and more jumbled and confused the more you attempt to talk to him. The voice you gain in your head is the Voice of the Rebel, who doesn't really have a goal other than to just goof off and have fun---making choices for choice's sake.

And, uh... that's what I got!

#i couldn't NOT name one of the vessels “the archivist” #still unsure of how he got his “reflecting what you think of him” quality when he's still his very human self #maybe he got infected with some of shifty's nature? idk #slay the princess #slay the professor au #stp the narrator #the shifting mound

[neyafromfrance95]

ghoulcy is my first ship after a long time and i get mad whenever i see people hating on it but i agree with avoiding the discourse and the fight, it neve ends well for the either side of the ship war.

when you get baited by the antis' bs and start arguing with them, spending all of your time in the fandom defending your right to ship, constantly talking about why your ship is better than the other ship,

is when you can be sure that when you look back at your experience with the ship, you will remember only frustration.

been there, done that. that's how it is.

and then there is the issue of the general/casual fans getting tired and confused about the discourse and perceiving the both sides of the war as annoying af and in the wrong (i don't go there but i think that's what happened with reylo).

the fandoms with the most longevity and positive vibes are the ones where the shippers spend most of their fandom time creating content for their ship - making gifs, edits, writing fics and drawing fanart, or just hyping up those who do.

#ghoulcy #vaultghoul #lucy maclean #cooper howard #fallout #the ghoul #lucy maclean x the ghoul #lucy maclean x cooper howard #lucy x cooper #lucy x the ghoul

[orcinus-veterinarius]

So... it seems I accidentally deleted an ask rather than answering it. To whoever asked "is it okay to visit SeaWorld? Does the money go to giving the orcas good care?"... here is your answer!

The SeaWorld parks, as well as Busch Gardens, Discovery Cove, and a few others, are operated by the recently renamed United Parks and Entertainment, a for-profit theme park company. Like any other corporation, their first goal is to remain profitable. Obviously, a large portion of that goes to corporate leadership and shareholders. But that's far from unique to United, or theme parks in general. It's a byproduct of the greedy world we live in. If you're willing to buy a ticket to Disney or Six Flags, then buying a ticket to a SeaWorld or Busch Gardens is no more immoral.

According to the AZA, approximately 77% of their members are for-profit. And while AZA zoos certainly vary in quality (anywhere from "acceptable" to "exceptional" in my opinion), for-profit status does not cheapen or detract from the work they do. In fact, for-profit institutions often have more financial freedom for animal care and conservation efforts than their non-profit counterparts. Non-profit zoos and aquariums are wonderful places, but believe me when I say there's a startling amount of politics in every aspect of their management. Non-profit status does not automatically make a zoo better, and for-profit status does not automatically make a zoo worse.

Now... do SeaWorld ticket sales go toward giving their orcas (and other animals) good care? Yes.

While it's certainly simplistic for parks to claim, as they do, "just by buying a ticket today you're helping save animals in the wild!"... it's not exactly a lie. Being for-profit, SeaWorld doesn't ask for donations to fund park operations or outreach endeavours. That revenue is generated by selling tickets, merchandise, food, etc. The same goes for their wildlife rescue and rehab program, Rising Tide conservation program, Coral Rescue Center, and the SeaWorld-Busch Gardens Conservation Fund, as well as partner organizations like OCEARCH and the Hubbs-SeaWorld Research Institute.

Take ticket sales away, and they can't care for their animals, or continue to fund conservation projects. While I don't know the whole story of what exactly is going on with Marineland Antibes, it appears that the park is in a dire financial situation due to plummeting attendance, to the point that they can no longer maintain their killer whale habitat and are trying to offload their animals onto an Asian aquarium or, potentially, an as-of-yet non-existent third party sea pen. While certainly well-meaning, years of boycotts against Marineland ultimately put their animals in a position where they are not being properly cared for. And it would be horrifying if the same thing happened to SeaWorld. I don't think many people, in their fervor to punish the parks for their perceived misdeeds and save the animals, thought about what the reality of driving a zoological facility into financial ruin would look like.

Don't get me wrong, SeaWorld's shift toward promoting itself as a thrill park that also does conservation rather than a marine facility that happens to have roller coasters annoys me. I would have rather they built a separate, neighboring park for the rides, or at least integrated them into the existing park less obtrusively (Disney's Animal Kingdom, for example, seemlessly integrates the theme park and zoo elements, although they have the benefit of the incredibly talented Imagineering team behind them). But as tiresome as the constant roller coaster announcements are, they are what kept the company afloat financially in the years immediately following Blackfish, drawing in a crowd that previously had no interest in the parks, and for that I'm grateful. Thankfully, SeaWorld is in a better spot nowadays. But the only way to convince them that their animals, not their roller coasters, are what people want to see... is to visit and see the animals.

In short, yes, part of your SeaWorld ticket funds care for their orcas and their many admirable projects. Now if only more of it went to giving their staff better salaries.

#their staff make less money than a lot of other major theme parks #the animals have great care... the people uh... #not as much #seaworld #zoos #aquariums #conservation #answered asks #anonymous

[reejindeed]

It seems like a lot of us One Piece fans started to leave the fandom for other things. You have your folk lore, I really got into pokemon. I wish you luck on your new art adventure.

I was pretty much only reading One Piece whenever the Kid Pirates were involved tbh

After a lot of the Yamato drama and general transphobic/homophobic/racist bullshit that kept getting regurgitated with the same three points of discourse I just got… tired. I’ve been tired for a long time. I wanted it to be better and I can absolutely see and acknowledge One Piece and Oda for where it is and for where he is, but like… man. It just wasn’t making me happy. Keeping up started feeling like a chore and an expectation. I was actually almost happy when the Kid Pirates were written out because I had this moment of like… finally I can be free of this shit.

Unfortunately the majority of my audience is One Piece-based so I don’t think I’ll ever fully be able to leave leave, (especially because something like Irish paganism and mythology isn’t exactly enough to go off of to keep a steady flow of money and I would have COMPLICATED FEELINGS about that anyway since I’m still very much a novice here), even if I am able to allow myself space to breathe and pursue other interests outside of this big huge modern epoch. This is still my livelihood, which is another part of the reason I didn’t want my entire career to be centered around making fanart of an anime I didn’t feel great about. I wanted to be thinking more about what I want to be doing, and the type of work I want to have representing myself as well as what is marketable and will make money. Fanart for large fandoms builds more interest for commissions because it has a wider reach than original work. It does serve a function. It’s just not where my heart’s at, and given the state of everything I’d rather be putting my energy towards something that makes me want to draw again.

I still have a lot of love for the little corner I built for myself within the One Piece universe. I still really respect One Piece for what it is: an INCREDIBLY vast sandbox that allows for the immense creativity of the fandom to build upon this empire that Oda has created. That’s no small feat, and I have an IMMENSE amount of respect for Oda as a writer, world-builder, and artist. I’ll still probably be drawing the Kid Pirates for a long time.

Just not as much as I used to.

I really hope I can also continue to build an audience of people who have similar interests as me in all regards, not just one specific fandom for one specific anime.

#ramblings #ask #text post