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messylustt · 6 months

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boss, i have a question — miguel o’hara. ( nsfw ). amazinggg scenario based on this request. so tasty wtf. cheating. bj. innocence. secondhand embarrassment? finally posted, oml i’m so sorry for the long wait :(

you had one question and too many awkward outcomes. you couldn’t ask the people you’d rather ask. they’d ask more questions, and most likely not tell it to you straight. you needed to know, but nobody got that.

all except miguel.

you wouldn’t dare look at his face as you mumbled the words out. wanting not to say them but also wanting an answer to them. the silence feels like two hands at your neck. you can feel your feet shuffling, unintentionally sliding back. maybe you shouldn’t have asked.

your mind and gaze focuses on a speckle of dust on the floor, as you wait. yeah, you really shouldn’t have asked.

at first miguel’s reaction was shock. you asked what? he thought he had heard wrong. he had to have heard wrong. but you’re still here, feet shuffling, gaze down, but nonetheless still here. you wanted an answer. why from him? he doesn’t know.

“you can ignore my question.” you suddenly say, feet a lot farther back then before. “you can — ”

“no boyfriend to ask?” miguel’s questions is simple, said in that typical unfazed tone. “um…yes, but…i can’t ask him.” you say back, with a tilt to your head, your gaze just below his eyes.

“why not?” he asks, but you don’t answer, again repeating your question. “what’s a bj?” your innocent tone tells miguel how you really don’t realise the implications of asking him something like this. your innocence is telling him to tell you. answer your question.

“do you know that it’s an abbreviation?” he asks, his gaze staring at your face a little more focused. you look to the side, sucking part of your lower lip between your teeth before glancing back. “i’m not dumb”

“mhm.” miguel just hums, glancing up at his shut office door, before looking back to you. “why ask me?”

“because i’d think you’d know.” you reply. “many people here know. your friends would know.” miguel states, crossing his arms. “they’d ask questions”

“i’m asking questions.” miguel answers straight away. “yeah but not the invasive ones.” you reply, now tapping at your fingers.

miguel eyes you, more narrowed, more intently. “you want to know what a ‘bj’ is?” miguel asks, now meeting your gaze, but you’re quick to look away. you nod, glancing to the far wall behind him. one word and a tap of his finger at his desk behind him, makes you shift it back. “c’mere.”

you now slide your feet closer, a little hesitant. miguel watches you, not missing one movement. then his hand is behind your head, his fingers in your hair, as he draws you closer. you should have backed away then, said you changed your mind, but you stay still, staring at him.

miguel, with his hand in your hair guides you down onto the floor, on your knees as he mutters. “kneel down.” you’re slightly confused as you look up at him. miguel grabs your hand and guides it to his hard on, that you just now notice at your eye level. your eyes expand as you realise. “you ever done anything with your boyfriend?” miguel asks, his suit beginning to disappear, as he keeps your head held by his hips.

“i…” you can feel your breathing pattern change, as miguel begins pump his already hard cock in one hand. “i’ll take that as a no.” he says, as pre-cum leaks out from his head, as he tilts his head down at you. “open up.” he utters as you gulp, big eyes staring at his tip. he taps under your chin as he lets go of his cock, urging your mouth to open, as you part your lips.

“a bj…” he begins as he pulls your head closer, tapping his cock on your tongue lightly. “is short for blowjob.” he coats your tongue in his pre-cum as you scrunch your hands into fists at your thighs. “is your boyfriend wanting one?” he asks, just looking at the way the white slips around your mouth before he pulls your head closer, your lips being moved to wrap around his head.

you try to speak around his cock, it twitching in your mouth at the vibrations, making him clench his jaw. “just shake your head or nod.” you nod. and that’s when his grip in your hair begins to slowly drag your lips up and down his cock. “hollow your cheeks” he instructs, as you try to do so, getting used to the feeling of a dick in your mouth.

“i don’t know why you’re not asking him, but i won’t ask any ‘invasive’ questions.” miguel says, his hips begin to slowly meet your mouth. you try to copy his movements. the up and down motion, that your head soon picks up. with his grip still in your hair, he notices the way you try to to take him deeper.

you’re soon choking, gagging around his head, as water pricks at your eyes. miguel could’ve warned you, told you about your gag reflex, but selfishly he wanted to see what you’d look like spluttering over his dick. “careful.” he mutters, not sounding very apologetic, as you glance up at him, his hips beginning to move a fraction faster.

miguel taps at your throat. “loosen up.” he says, as his hands pull your head further down, guiding your movements. you try and loosen your throat, having had to swallow all that extra spit. you meet his gaze, worried. but he just strokes your hair “gagging’s fine, cariño. you’ll get used to it.”

he pulls you completely onto him, your nose brushing his pubic hair. you then repeat those up and down movements, clenching your hands back into fists as you gag. “that’s it...” miguel hums, seemingly pleased. you can feel his cock twitch in your mouth, his tip practically tapping at the back of your throat.

with him stroking your hair, and holding the back of your neck, his abs tighten. he waits till the last second, your head obediently bobbing, before he pulls out, coating your suit-clad chest in white. you’re catching your breath, your cheeks stained in loose tears. miguel still pets your head, pushing the strands of hair out of your eyes, as he glances down at the mess he made, tilting your chin up. “does that…answer your question?”

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myung-heee · 7 months

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manipulation c.yj

kinktober: day 9 + manipulation

pairings: yeonjun x f!reader

warnings: manipulator!yeonjun x (kinda) innocent!reaader, manipulation, unprotected, (noncon at first), oral (f receiving), missionary

yeonjun is your closest friend since high school, both of you are complete opposites. he was popular, athletic, and had good grades, making him every girl's ideal type. Well, you can't blame them. yeonjun is a total package, embodying everything one could desire in a guy. he's like the living standard of a man.

both of you are quite close, and the reason why he was close to you and never broke your friendship remained a mystery to you and the other students around you. imagine being friends with the most idolized man on your campus while you consider yourself just a potato. however, yeonjun doesn't see you that way!! he views you as a cute potato.. (lol) he likes you as a woman, as a lady. he just hasn't found the right time to tell you

on the other hand, there's kai, your new friend who recently transferred to your class. initially, yeonjun didn't pay much attention; he would casually greet kai with a smile or a simple 'hi' whenever they crossed paths.

your friendship with kai seemed to flourish as yeonjun got busier with his basketball practices.

"let's hang out at my place," yeonjun approached you while you were sitting at your desk, copying the notes kai had lent you. you looked up at him and said shortly, "sorry, can't," before returning your attention to your notebook.

he raised a brow and asked, "can't? why? do you have something important coming up today?" he replied, "yeah, I'll be studying with kai," you said without even glancing at him. his expression faded, and he scoffed, "kai? the new guy, huh?"

"are you replacing me, y/n?" he asked. You looked up at him, trying to find a joke in his expression, but he seemed genuinely serious, gripping his towel, eyes fixed on you. "it's just one time.. i can always hang out with you, you know?" you explained. he sighed and looked away. "that's the point—just one time. this is the first time you don't want to hang out with me and choose someone you met just weeks ago?" his voice grew louder, drawing a few glances from your classmates. you sighed and looked around.

"jun, let's talk about this tomorrow. i have something to do," you said, showing him your notes. he just scoffed, wiped his face with the towel, and walked away. Before he could leave the classroom, he said, "i'll see you at the gate after class. i won't take no for an answer," and left.

your brows furrowed as you were about to say something, but the door had already closed. you sighed, put down your notes, and placed kai's notebook on his empty desk.

you told kai you weren't able to study with him tonight because something urgent came up. luckily for you, kai didn't actually mind it and told you that it was all fine.

you smiled at him. after class, you went to the gate right where yeonjun told you to. you saw him on his phone, a basketball on the side of his waist, and he had a towel hanging over his shoulder. you cleared your throat; he immediately looked in your direction and smiled, putting his phone in his pocket and wrapping his arm around your shoulders.

"i really thought you didn't want to be friends with me anymore," he chuckled. you looked down. he was your only close friend, so of course, you would choose him over anyone else.

you had been debating with yourself earlier about whether you would hang out with him or kai, then a thought came to your mind. yeonjun was a popular guy, yet he chose to be friends with you. you felt bad, so you thought that maybe you had to choose him too.

"well, you're my best friend... why wouldn't i hang out with you?" you smiled. he patted your head. "i am your only best friend, so you'll choose me over anyone, okay?" he whispered. you nodded.

"that's what i thought," he smiled. you looked at him, confused about what he meant, but you just brushed it off. as you arrived at his home, his parents were there, and you greeted them.

"we'll just study together," he said and guided you upstairs into his room.

as you entered his room, you immediately made your way into his desk. you put your bag on the table and sat on his gaming chair. his eyes were fixated on you. "do you really think we'll study?" he chuckled. you furrowed your brows and threw a glance at him. "wait, we won't?" you asked in a confused tone.

he put his towel on the doorknob before clicking the lock. "yeah.. we'll hang out, remember?" he smiles innocently. you looked over at the doorknob, confused about why he locked the door.

when he saw your doubting expression, he slightly scratched the back of his neck and looked at you. "i just wanna have some privacy, so i could make up for the time i should've been with you instead of my practices," he sighed. you slightly nodded. "it wasn't your fault though.. besides, we're best friends, it doesn't really matter. it's not like i am your girl or anything," you said quietly.

best friends. he smiled at that word.

"yeah, best friends," he replied. you smiled and stood up. "what should we do then? we aren't going to study, right?" you asked. "do you want to play games? multiplayer?" you continued.

he shook his head.

"there's, uh, thoughts in my mind that i want to ask out loud, but at the same time, i can't" he softly said. you tilted your head in confusion. "what is it? Tell me, I'm your friend," you smiled.

"yeah, that's why I can't tell you because you're just my friend," he sighed. you stared at him for seconds. not knowing what to say. "what.. should i do then?" you asked, his face lit up like a candle. smiling at your response as if it were the exact words he wanted to hear from you.

"are you sure you can do anything i'll ask?" he raised a brow, making his way towards you.

you slightly nodded; you trusted him. so why not?

"you know.. you've been spending a lot of time with kai, and it makes me.. jealous." he sighes. he stops walking. he's in front of you, towering over you. you looked up at his tall figure.

"you feel jealous?" you asked, confused. he nodded.

"yeah." he places his hands on your chin and looks at your eyes deeply. "i wonder if he's being this close to you." his voice sounds like it's hypnotising.

you immediately shook your head. "n-no.. he doesn't," you said. he chuckles. "he better be," he says, lowering his head. "you won't let him, right?" he whispers in your ears.

"no," you shortly said. "good girl," he said as he kissed your temple. "that's what i thought, hmm?" he smiled.

you nodded. with each second, you grew more desperate and needy for your best friend. all the signs of battling from your thoughts that he was just a friend disappeared. every word that leaves his mouth feels like music to your ears.

"i know you like me, y/n, so why don't you show how much you do?" he held your shoulders and sat you on the bed

"h-huh? right now?" you asked, confused. you held his arm and shook your head. "we can't.. your parents are downstairs." you whispered.

"let's just be quiet and quick," he said reassuringly. he gently kissed your neck down to your shoulders, your hands holding on to his shirt.

"wait—"

you said, stopping him from removing your shirt. halfway through it, he paused and looked at you. he can see that you were hesitant.. you were about to say something, but he cuts you. "don't you trust me? come on, y/n.. i'll take care of you. hmm? you'll love this," he confidently said, kissing your nose before completely removing your shirt.

he traces soft kisses on your shoulders, leaving soft marks. "trust me, okay?" he said softly. he cupped your clothed chest and massaged it softly before removing your bra. you blushed, feeling all shy and embarrassed.

"you're so pretty," he whispered, giving both of your chests equal attention, sucking and licking, leaving bite marks all over them.

he knelt on the bed and pushed you on the mattress, back touching the comfortable sheets. he rubbed his palm against your inner thighs. you're still wearing your denim shorts.

he was about to pull them down when you stopped him again, holding his arm. "wait—i don't think—" you were stopped when you met his eyes; his eyes are dark, staring into you. he seemed to be losing his patience now.

"don't act like you didn't do these with kai. Such a whore." his words hit like a brick as he pulled your shorts down. you rubbed your legs together, and you knew deep down that you didn't want this at all. but you can't do anything. you like him, and you trust him.

you bit your lips as you felt his finger rubbing your clothed sensitive spot. you've never felt this way before, not with your best friend.

you gasped when you felt him pull down your panty, revealing your wet core. he laughed softly when you covered your face embarrassingly.

"cute"

he said before completely diving into your wet entrance, covering your mouth to muffle your moans, the other hand gripping to his sheets.

"kids! dinner's ready!" your body froze as you heard his mom shout from downstairs. your brain is getting fuzzy. your eyes shut, you force yourself not to moan so hard.

"yeonjun," you moaned his name quietly, making him look up, his mouth still on your entrance. your eyes met, you could see how his jaws move up and down and the way he eats you out.

he groans, and he can tell that you're getting close. and he has a bad idea. as you were about to release, he removed his mouth from your core, your hips chasing his mouth. you whined at the sudden loss of pleasure. "junnie." you glanced at him, brows furrowed.

he chuckled at the view. he ran his fingers through his hair before lowering his sweatpants, just on his thigh. he took out his hard erection. you were about to say something but were stopped when you felt him rub his shaft against your wet pussy.

when he entered his shadt inside you, you couldn't help but whine. "hnggg!" you whine loud enough that both of you stopped at the same touch, eyes meeting with each other full of lust.

the surroundings were all quiet until you heard him chuckle, "keep quiet for me, y/n." he kissed your forehead and pushed himself deeper.

as he found his pace, he began thrusting fast enough that you could hear the bed creaking. your brows furrowed, hands on your mouth, and the other one is holding his arm.

you were so lost in pleasure, yet you remained conscious, forcing yourself not to release a sound.

"fuck. im near, fuck!" he groans. you shook your head. "please pull out," you said quietly.

the case is that he won't come unless you go first. he held it in and began thrusting harder and faster, hissing. "come on, cum for me," he said desperately.

you can feel yourself getting closer and closer until a wave of pleasure hits your body, making you moan out loud. yeonjun immediately covers your mouth and chuckles. "shh.. you're taking me so well," he says, still fucking you through your orgasm.

he closed his eyes and pulled out, exactly as his seed spurted out on your thigh.

#txt x reader #txt smut #txt #txt imagines #yeonjun smut #soobin smut #kai smut #taehyun x reader #yeonjun fanfic #yeonjun imagines #yeonjun fluff #txt reactions #txt fanfic #kinktober #kpop kinktober #kpop smut

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muzansfangs · 8 months

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Blue jeans.

Starring: Muzan Kibutsuji x f!reader;

Format: one-shot;

Warnings: nsfw, modern au, age gap, reader is twenty-one, sugar daddy dynamics, car sex, semi-public sex, vaginal sex, oral sex (Muzan receiving), use of alcohol, cigarettes, vaginal fingering, size kink;

Plot: You were his addiction. Young, beautiful and full of life, you made him forget about his problems for hours, whenever you met. The day you two had crossed paths for the first time, he thought it was not going to be anything more than a simple one-night stand. “No feelings involved” he had told you. Then, why did he miss you whenever you left?

Track: Blue jeans — Lana del Rey "You were sorta punk rock, I grew up on hip hop, but you fit me better than my favorite sweater".

MASTERLIST FOR THE EVENT.

﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏

He enjoyed your presence. As he now stared at your smooth, naked back facing him on his bed, he ran one hand through his curly, dark hair and sighed. He was not someone who grew attached to people. Feelings were foreign to him. Maybe he never learned how to love, or maybe love was never instilled into his heart. You, however, you had disrupted his whole life.

He blamed it on your laughter, or on the way your eyes glistened whenever you talked about something you liked. You were so innocent, at times. He loved the way your eyes widened and you hummed in delight, whenever he made you try some exotic dish you did not even know the existence of, until the menu was kindly handed to you by the gloved hand of a waiter.

He did not mind spoiling you.

You were young, your delicate features were a blessing to him. You were the sugar he needed in his sour life.

Glancing at your sleeping frame one last time, he reached his hand towards the nightstand, grasping his lighter and his cigarette pack. Another habit of his not even you could help him get rid of. He opened it absent-mindedly, only to realize it was the last one. Perhaps, it was truly time for a change then.

This cigarette was his last one. And you, you were the last woman he would have ever let step into his life. It was time to settle down, after all. He had spent too many nights in random downtown bars, hooking up with strangers he never remembered the name of, only to search for something he never found: warmth.

You were not supposed to be different. You were supposed to he as shallow as the others, but you were not.

It happened eight months ago. Chatting with your friends, drink in hand, you had caught his plum red eyes that infamous saturday night. Ignoring his presence was impossible. A man like him was too charismatic not to draw attention. The way you had tried to resist him, though, that had made him crave you. He stared at you from his stool, shooting captivating glances at you, trying to make you understand that he was demanding your attention. Defiantly, you barely locked eyes with him, almost making him lose his patience. In other circumstances, he would have probably picked someone else to give him the proper attention he demanded, but there was something about you that made his blood boil.

He wanted you that night.

When you suddenly stood up and slided onto the stool next to his one, still pretending not to see him, he chuckled. You were a delicacy, a rosebud in a nest of thorns ready to wound him, but he was old enough to know how to play his cards right.

“A double whisky, please” you asked the bartender, but Muzan interjected in your conversation.

“It’s on me” he smoothly said, half-lidded eyes staring at the liquid into his own glass.

It irked you. Did he just buy you a drink?

“Yeah, it’s on him” you replied sassily then, averting your eyes from the barman to look at him. He was handsome, elegant, older than you. His cologne pierced your nostrils as you leaned slightly closer to him to search for his eyes, the red eyes he had made sure you would have never been able to shake off of your mind ever again.

“Apparently, you’ve finally got the hint” Muzan lowly said, twirling the rum into the crystal glass before drinking it down in one gulp and gently settling it back onto the counter.

You grinned and propped your elbow onto the marble green surface in front of you, your chin rested on the palm of your hand as you watched the barman grasp a bottle to fill your glass. It was thrilling the way he felt so self-assured, his presence alone was enough to make your head spin.

“Don’t flatter yourself. I was just thirsty” you said, earning a chuckle from him.

“You could have asked the barmar to refill your glass from the table” he pointed out, shifting his position to turn his body around and face you properly.

Your cheeks flushed up and, when the glass of whisky was slided towards you, you were quick to grasp it to focus on something else that was not him. You failed so effortlessly though.

“What is it that you want?” you asked him eventually, raising your glass towards your mouth and biting down on the rim softly, before taking a sip of the liquor. It burned down your throat, just like his eyes burned on your skin.

Muzan did not miss his chance and let his eyes travel up and down your small frame. You were perfect, perfect for what he had in mind. Smaller than him, delicate and bold. Being a CEO took away his energy, he needed a distraction and you were a good one. Too precious not to ruin.

He leaned forward, his hot breath fanning your earlobe as he grinned and moistened his upper lip thoughtfully. It was clear that you were affected by his actions. He could see the way your breath hitched and the way your grip on the glass tightened significantly as he spoke “Frankly, just your mouth around my cock” he whispered only for you to hear.

Your eyes widened and you inhaled sharply, as his words sank in. He had no filters and you could not blame him for it. Why? It was probably the force of habit. A man like him could snap his fingers and obtain what he wanted right away. The thrill of doing such a dirty, lewd thing to a stranger, to a man like him, someone you would have probably never met again was tickling your most dark fantasies.

It took you several seconds to make up your mind. You sighed, gently setting your drink on the counter and glanced at your friends from above your shoulder. They were staring at you curiously, some of them probably wondering what you were about to do in excitement and some of them were honestly analyzing the scene with wary eyes. Indeed, the latter ones were the wisest.

“I have a dignity” you pointed out, darting your eyes back on Muzan.

“Growning up, you’ll find out there are things far way more valuable in life than what other people may think of you” he promptly replied, straightening his necktie casually. He seemed tired and not the kind of man who wanted to hurt you. He was not going to coax you into giving yourself away, he just hoped you would say him ‘yes’.

And you did.

As you two stumbled out of the bar fifteen minutes later, you knew you were probably going to either regret it for your whole life, or look back at it as an exciting adventure you had had with an older man on a boring night. He had told you his name was Muzan Kibutsuji. He had whispered it over your lips, right before pinning you against his car door.

His lips captured yours in a fervent kiss, holding your face with both of his huge hands, as his tongue entered your mouth with expertise and elicited a soft series of moans from your throat. It was not just his experience that blew your mind: it was him. It was clear as he unbuckled his belt, in the privacy of his car, and tangled his fingers through your hair.

He locked eyes with you, searching for the slightest sting of fear. He would have stopped immediately, if he had spotted it. Yet, there was just the hunger of anticipation in those glimmering eyes of yours and he firmly but carefully pushed your head down towards his crotch. With your eyes closed, you did your best to pleasure him. Your tongue twirled around the tip, right over the sensitive spot, making him groan softly in pleasure.

It was exactly what he needed. As you began to suck him off, you were slowly making his problems fade away and stress flow right into your warmth mouth. You almost gagged as he bucked his hips up in pleasure and he lolled his head back into the leather headrest, exhaling through his nostrils. When you were sure he was just going to let you finish him off like that, he surprised you.

“Stop” he breathed out, shifting on his seat to grasp the wallet from his pocket.

As he pulled out a condom from it and ripped it open with his teeth, you stared at him in both excitement and fear. Was he going to simply take you without a proper foreplay? You were about to point it out, when he grasped your jaw and planted a tender, passionate kiss on your lips to silence you.

“I am nothing like those dogs you are used to. I know how to properly stretch out a woman” he whispered, almost offended that you had thought so low of him.

“I didn’t—” you tried to apologize, but he simply scoffed and made the words die on your tongue as he pushed the thin fabric of your panties to the side and began to draw smooth figures eight on your bundle of nerves.

You moaned, blushing faintly in the dark car as you finally met a man who knew how to touch you properly. What did you expect? He was twice your years, a man of class, of power. He had told you himself he was not like the guys you were used to.

“You are beautiful, by the way” he whispered lowly, watching the way you arched your back as he thought you were wet enough to take another step. You hummed, squeezing your eyed shut as you adjusted yourself to his thick fingers. It was too much, it was overwhelming, and you could not believe what was truly happening.

He was so skilled that you had almost forgotten you were in a car, in a desert parking lot. You wanted him, you wanted him more than that, therefore you opened your eyes and gripped his wrist gently as a sign for him to stop his ministrations. You were ready for him. For all of him.

And as you straddled his lap, allowing him to guide your hips down to perfectly sink onto him, you knew things would have never been the same again. The thing was that, despite the rather brute way he had told you what he wanted from you, he did not just fuck you that night. The way his mouth hovered over yours, the way he held you so close to him, as if he was afraid you were going to slip away from him grasp, made feel something more.

There was loneliness in that passion, a void that needed to be filled.

Bouncing on his lap, you tugged at his hair, your thighs trembling as his shaft kissed your cervix and his mouth kissed the exposed skin of your neck. He had finally found it: the warmth of a young heart.

Now, putting his cigarette out on the silver ashtray he keeps on his nightstand, he grinned and rolled on his side. Resting his cheek on the pillow, he watched you. He never grew tired in doing it. You were a piece of art from a private collection, a gem. His fingertips glided down your naked back, trailing up towards the spine and grazing over the shoulderblades. You were his. You were his and no one else’s.

You hummed at the feeling, gently lifting your head to glance up at him. Your sleepy eyes always got him and, although he forced himself not to smile, you could swear his upper lip twitched.

“Hey…” you whispered softly, half-lidded eyes staring at him in adoration.

He did not say a word, he simply stroked your hair as if he wanted to lull you back to sleep. Yet, you had learned to read him and his poker face. There was something on the tip of his tongue.

“What is it?” you inquired, not moving an inch but keeping your eyes locked with his red ones.

“Nothing”.

“Liar. I know that look on your face. You want to ask me something. — you replied, sitting up and letting the silky blankets pool down over your waist — Speak up, Kibutsuji” you invited him to talk, poking his biceps with your index.

He loathed your childish ways to make him give up and talk, but he was almost defenseless in front of them. You were his greatest weakness.

“Actually, I got no questions for you. It’s just that… Well, I’m falling for you, I guess” he confessed.

Never in his life he had pulled down his mask like that. However, a love confession from him was overdued. He spoke his mind no matter what. He was not scared of his feelings for you. It was just that, for the first time ever, he did not want to ruin you, as he thought he wanted the night you two met.

You stared at him with your lips slightly parted, your cheeks heating up, as you scooted closer to him and snuggled into his chest. His chest, where you could hear his steady heartbeat, was your favore place to sleep. It comforted you.

“I love you too, Muzan” you mumbled, closing your eyes as you felt his arm flex and wrap you up into a tight embrace. There was no escape.

Maybe it was a trap, maybe it was the highway to paradise. You did not know for how long it would have lasted. All you knew was what you felt and, in that very moment, you wanted him as much as he wanted you.

Until you filled the void in his heart. Until it broke your bones. Until it hurt.

Tags: @mrskokushibo @doumadono @yazzzmints @tired-writer04 I dedicate this piece to you!❤️

#kibutsuji muzan x reader #muzan x reader #muzan x you #muzan smut #muzan x y/n #muzan kibutsuji x reader #demon slayer smut #muzan kibutsuji #demon slayer fanfic #demon slayer muzan

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ivy-loves-chocolate · 12 days

Text

✧˚ · .Painting their portrait ✧˚ · .

Note: I hope everyone is doing well 💖 I hope you will enjoy this as much as I enjoyed writing it 💖 If you want to commission me check my ko-fi and pinned post for prices. Thank you!

When he found out about your talent, he immediately bought you the most expensive equipment. Whether you like to paint on a canvas or on a graphic tablet, he will buy you only the best products.

He's very old-fashioned and wants a classic portrait. He'll arrange a proper setting to fit his taste. With a fireplace in the background, an expensive suit, and some other decoration that screams old money, he’ll sit with his legs crossed in his comfy chair while he looks at you. A soft smile would appear on his face, especially when you two locked eyes. You thought about painting that lovely smile and contouring those sweet dimples, but you know him better and chose to leave a stoic expression on his face. His soft side is for your eyes only.

He won’t mind sitting for hours because he'll have the greatest company. You two will gossip about the hottest tea at work, talk about his latest projects, and besides that, he'll have his romantic moments when he tells you how much he cherishes you.

The final result leaves him in awe.

"Darling, this is astonishing." He said, amber eyes studying every inch of the canvas and feeling an immense sense of pride washing over him. He couldn't take his eyes off your masterpiece.

"I knew you had it in you," he began after a short period of total silence. "Yet you managed to exceed my expectations."

You breathe a sigh of relief. Even if he was your boyfriend, it was hard to please him. He didn't coddle you, so when he praised you, you knew it was real.

He will hang that portrait with pride in his office, and he’ll tell everyone with pride that his partner made the incredible art.

With the corner of his eye, he noticed how you kept shifting your gaze from your notebook to him. Sometimes you'd stare longer at him, and sometimes your hand would go faster and then slower as if you were trying to remember something. Sometimes, you would scratch your head with the pencil and sighed in frustration.

Whatever you were doodling, it wasn't coming along as you wanted.

Not being able to control his curiosity anymore, he slowly approached your desk.

"Whatcha doing there?" he asked, looking over your shoulder, directly in the notebook. A wide smile appeared shortly.

You didn't hide the page in time, and Leon saw the sketches with his face. You drew him from three different angles. Even if you were in a hurry, you still captured his soft features—his genuine smile and his gentle gaze.

"I- uh-I..." you fumbled, hands going in random directions over the paper.

"You don't have to hide it. I think it looks good." He smirked and went back to his desk.

"Thanks. Listen, I was taking a break, and I felt a bit of inspiration coming in-"

"You don't have to excuse yourself." He chucked and turned to face you. In that moment, you saw a faint blush on his cheeks. "I think it looks great, given how fast you draw."

"And given how much you fidget,"

He chuckled.

"Seriously, man, lay off that coffee."

You both laughed, making some people turn their attention to you out of curiosity. A quick glance around, and you quiet down a bit.

"If you want to finish, I'll try my best to stand still."

"I would appreciate that."

You both smiled at each other. Time went by fast, and by the time you finished, the office was empty. None of you felt the time passing by as you got to know each other better. Leon loved his portraits and "stole" your notebook.

He loved everything you did. Every gesture, every tic, everything was just perfect for him.

What he cherished most was your talent when it came to art. Everything you touched turned into a masterpiece, something so beautiful that it can’t be described by a simple man. So, when you wanted to paint him, he looked at you in shock.

"Me?"

"Yes, you."

"Why?" he chuckled.

"Because I want to. And because I want an excuse to stare at your picture for hours while you are away on missions."

He pulled you closer and placed a gentle kiss on your forehead.

"Alright. Make sure to highlight my good side."

"As if you have a bad one."

Despite loving how affectionate and supportive you were with him, he never understood why. He viewed himself as a rough, cranky man who got on everyone's nerve. For short, an asshole. But to you, he wasn't like that. Despite the hardships in his life, he still maintained a soft gaze.

Naturally, he wondered why you wanted him to be part of your beautiful portfolio. And more importantly, did he deserve to be part of it?

For the next couple of days, he waited for you to finish. He would peek in your room to see the progress, but you didn't let him. You wanted to surprise him.

When he came back from his mission, arriving in your comfy apartment, you shoved your art in front of his face.

"Do you like it?" you asked excitedly.

He reluctantly took the canvas and stared at it for a few seconds. It's not that he didn't like it. It's the fact that he didn't recognize himself. His scars weren’t so prominent, his eyes weren't so full of sadness and anger, and his lips were curved in a soft smile. His features were softer, friendlier, even.

“This… I know it’s me, but it feels like I’m looking at a stranger.”

"Why do you say that?”

“It feels like you retouched my face.”

“Hmm, no, this is how you look in real life. You're not as tough-looking as you think."

He loves it regardless, and he loves you even more.

His muse in this life was you. Every time he looked at you, every time he saw your pretty face, his mood would lighten up in a heartbeat. A catastrophe at the moment would turn into something insignificant, something he could overcome with ease.

What he loved most about you was your talent. He was amazed at the beautiful things you could create with your hands, unlike him. He found refuge in your art, staring at your finished and unfinished projects for hours.

"Mi dulzura, what masterpieces are you creating?"

"Thank you, mi rey. Wanna be part of them?"

He smiled. He approached you with light footsteps, rubbing your shoulders gently when he reached your back.

"I'd be honoured."

He was thrilled. Being fascinated by your talent, he wanted to ask you long ago, but he didn't want to overcrowd you as you had many projects and clients. He didn't want to put more pressure. He simply told you that he doesn't want anything fancy.

He waited every day for you to finish, barely containing himself from asking dozens of questions. You had to kick him out multiple times from your room because you wanted to surprise him.

"Luis," you called out, "it's done!"

He came in a hurry, and as expected, he loved the result. He wouldn't stop praising you for creating another masterpiece.

"This is...I have no words. It's simply stunning."

"Well, you are stunning," you said, wrapping your arms around his neck.

"I guess I really am your Prince Charming."

You chuckled and were ready to say something, but he caught your lips in a quick, gentle kiss.

From that moment on, he becomes your one and only muse. You'd paint him in various poses and various clothes, sometimes with you as well. He would sit near you, watching you do your magic without saying a word. He loves and respects what you do a lot.

#resident evil #albert wesker #leon kennedy #luis sera #resident evil 4 remake #leon kennedy x reader #albert wesker x reader #luis serra x reader #jack krauser #jack krauser x reader #fluff #headcanons

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charpeach · 6 months

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I think you've created the best leshy and the best heket, both in terms of design and the posts and reblogs you've made.

but I would like to tell you that frogs don't have tails, heket is not a tadpole and that anura literally means tailless

Hi. I appreciate your message and thank you for the kind words about my designs.

Since the topic of Heket's tail seems to be appearing quite frequently in my and other artist's ask boxes, here's what I have to say.

This is your reminder that it is not okay to comment on people's artistic choices like that.

Art is art, and it begins in the artist.

Art exists to express its creator. It's to put their ideas, their love and passion towards a character or a franchise as a whole into something that others can see (listen to, read, touch, I'm not speaking just about paintings).

Art is a shared experience. It is to be observed.

And it is not an artist's job to try and fit their work into every frame that some people on the internet may have created for themselves.

Heket is not a frog. She may appear so, but her existence in a regural frog's body had ended very long time ago.

She's a goddess. A fallen and defeated one, at last, but the divine essence has intervened with her existence so much that it can't ever be taken away from her.

Frogs aren't fifteen-ish times the lamb's height. They don't have additional sets of eyes and the definitely do not have some weird crosses and tower looking like things sticking out their head. Oh, right, and they don't have tails too.

Cult of the lamb is a fantastic fictional world, with magic, relics, gods and ???. Narinder used to possess an ability to rip his face open and detach his eyeballs from their sockets to have a fight with lamb.

I don't see any good reason why in given circumstances Heket's current body can't have a tail. She still has other eyes and crosses, even though I don't include the latter in my art.

Once again, art is art and my design is my design. I've made that decision and I'm well aware that it may not be accurate to real life biology. Question awaits, why in the world should it?

I used to grow toadpoles into frogs in an aquarium a while ago. I've watched them go through every stage of development, I've seen them change and transform, and it isn't a momentary process. The tail doesn't suddenly fall off. The toadpoles first grow their back legs, then front ones, and by the time the latter are fully formed, they still have their tail for about a day or two. So, here's your biological explanation: her current body is very, very young.

I chose to include the tail in the design as a metaphor of bishop's rebirth. Her mind may be old, but right now she's like a child in a world that is so new and unfamiliar to her. She has to go through everything that all young people have to.

This post might seem just out of place, as if I'm looking too much into a simple comment like that one. But I've seen just one too many artists bullied into thinking that their ideas or choices aren't valid and do not matter. They were forced to change their beautiful works because someone else had told them to.

So let me tell you something instead.

You don't have to change your art. You can make whatever artistic choices you want, and they are valid, and they are beautiful, because they are yours.

We wouldn't have a quarter of the diversity and creativity in art if a long time ago one artist their contemporaries claimed to be weird and incorrect submitted to them and returned to only drawing what they thought were allowed.

Frames are to be broken.

I love you all, thank you for reading this.

#art #fanart #my art #cotl #cult of the lamb #artists on tumblr #fan art #heket #follower heket #cult of the lamb heket #cotl heket #long reads #artist #digital art #digital drawing #drawing

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urlovebrini · 8 months

Text

i'm super shy. i'm all nervous 'cause you're on my mind all the time, and i wanna tell you but i'm super shy (part 2)

⋆❀ — includes: diluc, heizou, thoma, xiao x gn!reader

⋆❀ — content: fluff, gn! reader (mentions of skirts, makeup, and lipg loss with heizou), first degree burn with diluc, simping, pinning, one-sided attraction, not really one-sided attraction, some

⋆❀ — a/n: here is the second part of the super shy imagine, i hope you like it. if you have some ideas you can comment or send an ask. i tryed be just with everyone but sometimes the words flow more for some characters.

⋆❀ — psd: my asks are open.

part 1 [cyno, wanderer, kaeya, alhaitam] | part 2

I'm super shy, super shy But wait a minute while I make you mine, make you mine I'm all nervous 'cause you're on my mind all the time I wanna tell you but I'm super shy, super shy

⋆❀˖°·🧋࿐ ࿔˚ xiao

the summer had unfolded great so far, the climate was nice, and and the clientele of wangshu inn radiated an affable spirit, some of them will tell you tales about their travels, their lifes, the most old would give you pieces of lice wisdom. and even some of tell would let you generous tips. so the summer job was being a success so far. if tell was only want thing that bother you, it is that you seem to have a singular thought remained unshakably lodged within your mind all the time. a silent young man residing on the inn's uppermost floor.

his precense had woven itself into the fabric of your thoughts, a constant wonder that refused to fade, as the days unfold, there is in you a compelling need to draw closer to xiao. the egnimatic presence of the wanshun inn that has ocupied your thoughts seems to beckong for understanding beyond mere silence. and you find yourself making little excuses, the cross ways, but there is a nervousness that doesn't let you talk more than a simple gretting, but every time your smile and say hi to him and he acknowledges you with a hum you heart skips at beat.

one day, your heart guides you to his balcony, bearing and offering: his favorite meal, meticulously prepared with care. you walk to him, your heart racing and your hands slightly trembling. but you go on, extending the dish to him. waiting for his reaction. as you observe him, chewing your lip nervously, trying to decipher something behind his always calm and stern face. its almost quickly, but there is a shift of surprise and puzzlement in his eyes, he doesn't say anything. though he doesn't reject the food. you give him a little dumb and shy smile, and take your leave trying to control your shaking limbs, and you hear him. his voice, a hushed tone. "what are you doing this?"

his eyes studies you, looking at you so profund, you smile to him more as you tell him "just wanted to do something nice" and you leave trying to look as if you are not running for the situation. xiao look at you as you leave him alone, with the plate of almond tofu in his hands. his heart making strange leaps.

xiao finds himself pondering about you in the quiet moments, he has percieved the looks on your eyes, he wonders why will you look at him like that, with those shining eyes, and the timid voice as you greet him everyday. it's as if you hold an anticipation, a quiet expectation, in the depths of your gaze. he's left to wonder, what prompts you to look at him with those shining eyes, as if you're anticipating something yet to come?

you are a very perplexing mortal, the intensity of your regard a mix between an earnestness and vulnerability, stirs ripples of intrigue in his quiet life. as he stands amist the serenity of the wangshu inn, he is drawn to the pretty enigma that is you.

the days continue to unfold, and the end of the summer marks the final days of your work. fueled by the beat of your heart. you find yourself again on the terrace where xiao often resides. anticipation fills your breath as you approach him. the last chance. tough you know he's noticed your presence, his gaze remains fixed ahead. taking a place a few metters to his side and looking to the landscape, you speak almost quietly "the summer is coming to an end" he remains in silence so you continue 'and my time here is also coming to and end". you share, attempting to weave a thread connecting your words, yet shyness clouds you when you feel his unwavering gaze over you. despite this you look at him and extend him a fistfull of bracelets you haven crafted during you free time in the summer. you smile to him trying to not look strange "for you, its an keepsake" he gives you a look that you can't decipher as he takes the bracelets and you smile to him showing him the ones in your arm. you don't want to lie to yourslef but you feel like he almost smile. and you are to turn away as his voice stops you.

he steps closer to you, taking your wrist gently almos afraid, his gaze fixed now in you and his quiet words take shape "if you ever find yourself in danger" he stops almost like thinking his next words "if you ever find yourself... if you ever need, need anything. just say my name" his eyes shine with a strange light his words almost as an unspoken oat 'just say my name and i'll be there in an instant". he speaks to give you a little grip and leave you alone, with a smile that doesn't seem to leave your face

And I wanna go out with you Where you wanna go? Find a lil' spot, just sit and talk Looking pretty, follow me You and I side by side

⋆❀˖°·🧋࿐ ࿔˚ heizou

amid the familiar surroundings of your family's restaurant. the sounds of clicking pans and the aromas that fill the air. and yet, admitst the rush and the chaos, there's only one preoccupation that consumes your mind – him. and you feel that maybe you are going crazy. why are you losing your mind over a man?. heizou swirl your toughts and you feel almost powerless to the feelings that are growing on you.

to the entrainment of your family, ever since heizou began frequenting the restaurant. you who was a rare visitor, now frequently daily, assisting with serving the tables, and receiving the patrons. and as you go about your task, you catch yourself stealing glances towards the entrance, half-expecting to see him saunter in, as if summoned by your thoughts alone. It's absurd, really. Your heart flutters like an unbridled butterfly, your mind races with scenarios and conversations that have yet to happen. It's a symphony of anticipation that you're powerless to mute.

your family watches with bemusement, well aware of your newfound fascination. and the amusement of your family grows, at your spectacle of trying to catch heizou's eye. every day, the colors you choose are a touch more vibrant, the neckline a little more daring, the skirt a little more shorter, and you make up meticulously applying, rimel, gloss, and more. your mom always playfully asking when you're finally going to strike up a conversation with your "boyfriend," teasing that she wants to invite him over for dinner at home.

heizou indulges in his meals, almost always in his business. yet, beneath his seemingly absorbed exterior, it's obvious that the detective is absolutely aware of your growing fascination. while his attention might appear to be fixed on his food, a book or his papers, his eyes have a way of seeking you out, their fleeting glances holding a secret understanding. it's exiting, it's not really a mystery for him to solve but it's unfolding right under his nose.

that day was not so different you almost so shyly always stealing glances to him. you are not fooling anyone less him. you give him a dessert that he knows it's not even on the menu of the restaurant "treat of the house" is what you say. he arches and eyebrow, his lips curving into a knowing smile "are you attempting to sweeten me up?" your eyes open a lot and you shyly look at him "amm no? maybe yes? maybe no?" he let you be for the moment.

as the shift winds down and the patrons begin to thin out, heizou decides the time has come to delve more. he approaches you as you trend to a table, your eyes shine as he nears "you are so dreamy, i solved your mystery quite some time ago". surprise dances in your gaze, mingling with a tinge of self-consciousness "my mystery?" he nods, his smile playful "yes, so, how about we unravel another enigma together? how about a date?

the word hangs between you, your heartbeat quickens, caught in the gravity of his words. "a date?" a slow, knowing smile graces Heizou's lips, his tone gentle. "yes, i have a strong inkling about that."

You don't even know my name, do ya? You don't even know my name, do ya-a? More than anyone You don't even know my name, do ya

⋆❀˖°·🧋࿐ ࿔˚ thoma

in the simple rhythm of life in inazuma, there was a constant revolt of unspoken emotionions, a constant beat, a flutter of attraction to seemed to have life of its own. days to you were spent in a usual pattern—work, home and the occasional outing—but amidst all that, you heart was entranced by a single figure. your mind seemed to belong to the know fixer of inazuma, your heart itself entrapped by him.

thoma, oh so handsome, kind and with a brightness that left you in awe. it was hard to you fathom that someone like him would ever cast a second glace in your direction. how could someone so captivating even spare a fleeting glance in your direction?. yes, he was amicable and always kind, but he was like that with everyone. yet your feelings expanded beyond mere attraction everytime he come to the flowershop you work in, but it was difficult to ignore the little pain in your heart, a bittersweetness. the flowers he purchased, flowers for "his lady" house.

moments of dejection visited you, as you were convinced he didn't even know your name. still, every time your paths crossed, or your eyes met, your heart would race, uncontrollably.

unbeknownst to you, thoma was indeed aware of you, the pretty lady of the flowers, he saw your presence, felt the nervous energy that surrounded you in his proximity. While it intrigued him, your shyness tugged at his heartstrings. he admired your smile, and theand he found himself contemplating the idea of engaging with you on a deeper level. as the day

the day draws to a gentle close. the flower shop, on the brink of closing for the day, as the last customer's footsteps fade, you're left with the comforting embrace of the familiar surroundings. yet a surprise awaits for you. thoma stands there, his presence like a breath of fresh air, unexpected and exhilarating. Your heart skips a beat at the sight of him, but you manage to compose yourself, offering him a warm and friendly greeting. as he mustered the courage to step forward, his curiosity dancing in his eyes.

"excuse me," he begins, a hint of bashfulness in his tone, "i feel like i should have heard your name before. i don't mean to be impolite, but could you tell me again?" thoma's voice is palpable, and his smile is as radiant as ever. As you share your name once more, he nods with a warmth that seems to light up the surroundings. "

"thank you for refreshing my memory," he confesses, his gaze never once faltering from yours. "Hey, would you be interested in joining me for a meal? Allow me to treat you, of course." the offer is genuine, his intention clear,

I'm usually pretty talkative, what's wrong with me? I don't like that Something odd about you Yeah, you're special and you know it You're the top, babe

⋆❀˖°·🧋࿐ ࿔˚ diluc

in the heart of bustling mondstadt, your quaint cafe-bakery stood. it might not have reached the peak of popularity, but it was a beginning to you and your dreams. little did you anticipe that the owner of the dawn winery would become a frquent visitor. master diluc claims of not having a sweet tooth didn't detter his visits to procure treats to his house staff.

each time his presence graced your café, your heart couldn't help but race at the mere sight of him. nervousness took a hold of you, making hard to keep your cool. tought you were known amongst your customers for your talkative and cheerful nature, something about diluc's presence managed to unravel your usual composure. your attempts at engaging him in conversation stumbled and faltered, showcasing your nerves more than you'd like. despite that, master diluc ever the gentleman, met your moments of awkwardness with calmness and kindness.

on a calm day at the cafe, the familiar chime of the entrance announced his arrival. diluc walk in. your heart raced in response, but you did your best to compose yourself and greet him warmly, hoping he didn't notice the subtle flutter in your chest. he request a selection of the new pastries for his staff. your mind racing to find a way to engage him in conversation, and with a mix of anxiety and determination, you offered to serve him a beverage. Your voice trembled slightly as you mentioned your latest coffee creation, promising it wasn't overly sweet.

unbeknownst to you, your bright eyes and the sparkle in your smile were the only things that diluc need to say yes to you. diluc agree to the offer, albeit the stipularion that the drink better not be too sweet. your eyes spark in genuine eximent and smile to him oh so sweet, and he could no help you would smile like that more often.

as he lean in the bar, observing you. his presence seemed to enchant you, making it hard for you to really focus on your work, and your distraction led to an unexpected mishap—a slight burn from the steaming nozzle. the sound of pain in your voice follows for the shater of the glass. and in a instant master diluc was at your side, concern in his handsome face. lost for a moment, you get back to downplay the accident, but he halts your protest in an instant.

"give me your hand," his firm tone resonated, his words carrying a touch of admonishment. caught in the intensity of his gaze, you hesitated for a moment before extending your injured hand towards him. his touch was surprisingly gentle, his fingers firm yet tender as he examined the burn on your skin. as he took you towards the sink, you found yourself lost in his stern presence. the cool water brought imediaty relief, as you look at him.

diluc's gaze was unwavering, as if he wanted to ensure that you were truly okay."You should be more careful," he said, his voice a mere whisper, his tone now softer, almost as if he was speaking to himself. "i'm sorry," you murmured softly, casting your gaze downward as you held your hand under the water.

he sighed gently, his gaze softening as he regarded you. "don't apologize. i just want to make sure you're okay," his voice carrying a soothing reassurance. He reached for the first aid kit, skillfully bandaging your hand as he spoke. the way his hands worked was gentle yet precise, and his proximity set your heart aflutter even as the tension in the room seemed to dissipate.

the sound of the entrance chime broke the spell, reminding you both of the outside world. diluc stepped back slightly, his gaze lingering on you for a moment before he nodded towards the new customers who had just entered. "I'll take care of them. You stay seated and rest," he said, his voice holding a note of finality. you found yourself obeying his words, watching as he effortlessly attended to the new customers. when he comes back to you, his gaze fixed in you "i think it would be wise to close for the day and let yourself rest," he suggested, his tone firm. despite you try to protest his resolute gaze silenced you, "okey master diluc" he nodded in approval and stepped back, allowing you to wrap things up.

the streets of mondstadt are quiet as he walks beside you. you tried to insist that it wasn't necessary, that you could manage on your own, but his gentle insistence won out. as you reach your doorstep, his usually composed expression seems to soften. his hand comes up to gently caress your cheek. "rest well. If you need anything, don't hesitate to reach out," you nood in response your voice soft "thank you master diluc".

his gaze held a hint of something more, a sentiment that seemed to linger unspoken between you "diluc" is his answer. before the words could find their way out. his hand reach your, taking the back of your hand to his lips, pressing a gentle kiss over the bandage. and then, with a soft smile, he turned and walked away, leaving you with a mix of emotions that swirled within you long after he had disappeared from sight

⋆❀ — a/n: hello, i finish this, first time thinking of a story for certain characters, and I'm not 100% content with some ones, but writing is practice. i repete my ask are open if someone wants to give a suggestion for a story. i hope you enjoy this.

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skylermadness · 5 months

Text

Whatever. (Lucas Lee TF/MC)

(Original Date of Upload: December 6, 2023)

I continue to be too lazy to fill my queue.

Original Description:

Make this Lucas Lee TF #3, now in the written medium! My boyfriend got me to watch through both the Scott Pilgrim movie and anime and it was pretty obvious that I was going to fall in love with Lucas. A bit of a jerkish man with a large physique and attractive face, pretty much the perfect bait for someone like me. This also meant that inevitably I was going to have to write a TF story on this guy! I wanted to go for something a bit simplistic here in terms of tone and plot, mainly because I wanted to jump straight into the transformation segment, but I think in general I'm rather proud of how this story turned out! I really wanted to give this man justice, especially since in the end he'll probably be memorialized in the hall of underrated TF figures. Also going to give some credit to my friend moltingscales on FurAffinity for a few description additions that I would not have been able to come with on my own! Rated Mature for vague bulge growth description.

Truth be told, self-confidence was not something that Mike had an ample amount of. Especially in regards to how he viewed his physicality. That was always something he thought when he stared at himself in the bathroom mirror. And for this evening that sense of low self-esteem was at an all-time high. The reason? Date night.

He had always attempted to tell himself that these dates were just meant to be casual. There was nothing to really worry about since it wasn't like he and his boyfriend were going to some bougie five star restaurant or something. Unfortunately however, Mike’s mind never truly functioned that way and he had a tendency to spiral down a mental staircase of overcomplications. That coupled with the past two weeks he's had in regards to his job had sort of left his mind in a state of disarray. It wasn't fragile persé, but neither was it solid.

That mental state is why he was in the bathroom mirror at 7PM in the evening staring at a sheet of temporary tattoos in his hand. Said sheet was just some three dollar cheapo set that he bought online a few days ago. Mainly because he was too much of a coward to get a real tattoo- that's beside the point!

Although the cheapness of the purchase was definitely pungent as he stared down at the sheet. He didn't go for the more expensive and extravagant purchase, mainly because he didn't really want to draw too much attention to himself. In general he had just wanted something simple that also looked aesthetically appealing. However the more he stared down at the sheet he began to realize that he really went too far on the simple notion. Although that was primarily because the only selections on this fake tattoo sheet were simplistically stylized letters and numbers.

Mike sighed. “What do they expect me to do? Spell out my name or something?” It hasn't even been five minutes and he was already regretting this purchase. It was fine though, it was fine, he might be able to settle on something at least.

He had already crossed out putting in his own name, and he felt it would be weird to put in the name of his boyfriend. Would it be weirder to put in the names of everyone in his polycule? If anything that'd just look like a hit-list. Also he was pretty sure he didn't have enough letters for all of that anyway. For a second he also considered putting the name of a game or something he liked, but that option fell flat since the letters provided to him would look weird when tattoos of game logos legitimately exist.

These mental gymnastics lasted for a good twenty or so seconds before Mike’s gaze wandered down to the number section of the sheet. There weren't a lot of numbers he'd say represented literally anything about him. Except…

“...two?”

Just two. He was the second person in his polycule with his boyfriend after all, and in general he had been the second to do a lot of things like finish college and move out. Although considering he was just doing this to boost his self confidence for a date with his boyfriend the former thought process was a much healthier one.

Seeming to have come to a decision, the next couple minutes were a fairly standard order of events. Making sure his skin was dry, removing the film and isolating the singular number from the sheet. Mike did spend a good minute trying to choose a spot to place this temporary tattoo, but eventually settled on the side of neck solely so he could hide the thing if need be. He removed the choker that he typically wore, put it onto the sink’s counter, and placed the numerical icon onto the skin of the left side of his neck, then promptly wet up a sponge with some warm water before holding it onto where he was placing the tattoo.

The moment the water met the backing paper that region of Mike’s neck had suddenly been given a slight burning sensation. It was only miniscule, but it was noticeable. “Eesh, I hope I'm not allergic to whatever is in these things…”

He tried to hold out for the recommended thirty seconds, but that feeling of burning forced him to remove the sponge from his neck after twenty. He swiftly removed the backing paper from his neck, but found that there wasn't any kind of redness of the skin that would be the cause of any kind of burning. If anything the strange sensation had subsided, and now Mike had been granted a simplistic tattoo of the number two with a line going through it.

He stared at his neck in the mirror for a few seconds and scrutinized the newly inked object on his neck. “...somewhat larger than I was expecting. Whatever I guess, it doesn't… look shoddy.”

It did already look a little faded though. Mike had hoped once it had some time to dry it would actually look dark enough to imitate the appearance of a tattoo even though he didn't fully care about it looking convincing. With a sigh he moved his hand to the edge of the sink to pick up his choker and slip it back around his neck again. Although this time he loosened it a bit so it wouldn't rub up against the temporary tattoo too much. He apparently wasn't patient enough to let it dry before putting the accessory back on-

With that whole routine dealt with, Mike made his way out of the bathroom. He was probably going to spend the next half hour sitting on the couch waiting for his boyfriend to arrive…

However as he walked down the hallway he already started to massage the area the tattoo’s ink had been placed on. The burning was returning already and it felt a bit more intense now. “What are in those things?”

He continued to gently massage the area of his neck with his hand, letting his palm gently squeeze the skin in an attempt to alleviate the sensation. Although it would seem as he continued in this act, a strange set of changes began to settle into his hand…

There was a certain level of thickness that had begun to generate in both of Mike’s hands. His usually thin fingers steadily got larger, thicker, chunkier. As their size was getting altered their length was extending as well in order to fit their new proportions. The ends of his fingers also seemed to blunt a bit with initial the roundness of his fingertips dulling to a more straight look. At the exact same time the body of his hands was getting changed as well, both of them growing with each squeeze his left one did to his neck. They stretched out larger and wider, palms thickening as the entirety of his hands gained a significant level of meatiness to them that was already causing them to exude a level of strength that they had not possessed just moments prior.

From there it was a quick transition for the changes to jump past his wrists and onto his forearms. A small amount of heat began to arise in the lower area of his arms. With that heat came another swath of growths, the thinner physique of them steadily being lost under a swelling, bulking size. This was mostly because of the sudden increase in muscle mass he was getting. At an anatomical level, each usage of his extensor muscles by his hands was causing a practically impossible rate of growth. Like years of working out was being piled in the area in just seconds and giving his forearms a sizable muscularity. So much so that ridges were already forming, dividing muscle groups and accentuating the new size even further. A budding pressure had also started forming in his bones. Newly grown muscles practically massaging them, extending and hardening them further to better handle this larger size. It also wouldn't take very long for the exact same thing to begin to occur in his upper arms as well.

It started with a squeezing sensation in his elbows, something that quickly intensified to yet another immense bout of pressure in the bones of the upper half of his arms. This was also accompanied by the same light amount of heat, which was then followed by even more muscle growth. The short sleeves of his button-up were quick to fill as the mass in his arms increased more and more. Biceps got bulkier and triceps matured tremendously, and it wasn't long until the diameter of his arms was practically doubled thanks to all of these changes. His shoulders ached as his deltoid muscles developed more, a certain roundness forming out from his once angular bodily shape. This roundness had also rapidly made itself visible from beneath the fabric of his shirt, his newly developed muscles firmly pressing up against the sleeves as they already began to look rather undersized.

By the time this portion of the transformation had ended, Mike found himself at the threshold of the hallway and his living room. A few beads of sweat already began to form on his forehead as the heat was spreading from his arms to the rest of his body. “Uurgh, am I… having an allergic reaction to that thing…?”

For a moment he stands in the doorway and unhands his neck, deciding to hold onto the threshold with a hand in order to stabilize himself a bit. He could still feel the tattoo burn against his neck, although he couldn't see it was significantly darker than it was before. What he did see, however, was his hand.

“W-WHAT THE HELL-”

For just a moment his mind was taken off the feeling of intense heat entering his body, Mike’s focus instead being directed to his larger hands and beefier arms. Flipping a hand around in a panic his first statement was, “O-oh God, this can't be an allergic reaction-”

His eyes could only just trail down from his hands to his arms, the man only being able to behold the sight that was his recently obtained muscle mass. It felt so warm, and something about it was exuding pure strength, but despite that it all still felt uncanny. Bizarre felt like an understatement of a term, it was impossible!

“What is going on?? Why is this- a-ahh-”

His panicked statements were interrupted by what could only be described as the sudden feeling of a furnace igniting at the very core of his body. In just seconds his physical changes were transitioning from his arms to his torso, and Mike could instantly feel his chest push outwards and into his shirt with each breath the young man took.

The best way to usually describe Mike’s chest was undeveloped. Flat with only minimal amounts of flab and fairly unimpressive from a physical standpoint. However, as his core was heated a fire entered his torso that caused a cascade of changes that practically tempered and sculpted his form. His chest pushed forward, his pectorals steadily swelling in size with each second that passed. It was small at first however, seemingly starting off as a slight growth that looked more like that of a novice who just started working out. But that appearance was temporary, one that lasted only a few seconds before they got larger and larger. With each ragged breath the man took his pectoral muscles only grew more, that novice feeling being lost into the size of someone more adept in gym-going. And that didn't last long as they grew even more into two thick and meaty slabs belonging to someone dedicated to refining their physicality.

All the while his chest was pushing up against the front of his shirt. The size of his swelling pecs constantly indenting into the button-up more and more, their appearance getting more prominent beneath the fabric. But the only thing that held the halves of the shirt were buttons, and as the size of his chest increased it pushed his shirt’s placket to limits it just couldn't hold. Already buttons began to scatter, unleashing his chest more and unveiling the deep chasm that became his cleavage. A few more buttons were lost as his frame was prompted to extend as well. His collarbone and ribs pushed sideways, broadening and widening his form even more. Something that was causing even his back muscles to ache, a mighty need starting to form in them as well.

“Urgh-” Mike grunted at the sensations, everything just feeling overwhelming. “M-my shirt- my chest it's so… it's so…”

His cheeks flushed as all of a sudden Mike lost control of an arm. The free one that wasn't supporting him on the door got lifted up and, in just one quick moment, squeezed his right pectoral. He was given the sensation of just how soft yet firm they felt underneath his grip. Something that gave him just a single thought.

Heh, you've got the best chest in the business~

That very thought felt so foreign to Mike, already setting off mental alarm bells in the young man’s man. Yet despite that he couldn't swat it away, he couldn't stop his hand from giving his chest another squeeze and filling his brain with an almost erotic level of self-confidence (and perhaps self-absorption) that he didn't have prior. It was like his brain chemistry was beginning to get altered as well.

The changes didn't stop at his chest though. His abdomen already began to ripple, skin and muscle bubbling and churning as yet more muscles were ready to sculpt themselves into existence. The fat around his stomach melted off, and rising from that were a set of abdominal muscles. They slotted forwards like drawers, just rows of abs sequentially unveiling themselves and hardening into yet more firm muscles to displace his once twinkish demeanor. Two, then four, then a six-pack set of abs, all finely built in a way that showed years of dedication. Although those were years that Mike had not toiled through. But as his sides burned, his abdominal muscles firmed up, and the front of his shirt continued to tear open even more, the sight of his more muscled form was causing more conflicting thoughts to form in his brain.

His back continued to ache as the muscles in that region grew out. Yet again his shirt was filling up, and beneath that was a substantial formulation of mass that was forming in his trapezius muscles. Evidently that wasn't the only portion of his back that changed however as his spine was another major group of bones that got hit with the transformative pressure. A sensation that caused the discs in his spine to decompress and grow, elongating itself and granting Mike inches of height that would better work for his new proportions. This has caused the hem of his shirt to rise a bit and untuck itself from his jeans in the process.

This sudden growth of height further disoriented the man, Mike having already been immensely discombobulated thanks to the intensifying fog that was forming in his brain. At this point he was already getting lost in the inspection of his body, his arm moving from squeezing his chest to tracing a finger down his cleavage. It further moved down to his abs, all fingers splaying outwards to touch and feel the strong six-pack that he had gained just moments ago.

With all those years spent working out, it would be a waste not to feel those muscles you spent so long crafting~

“Wuh… huh…?” Mike vocalized, eyes blinking in a daze. “I've never… worked… out…”

For a second his brain registered his voice sounding different, sounding deeper, but his focus could only be on the statement said. How much of a contradiction it seemed to be. A fraction of him knew it was true, knew these muscles weren't here minutes ago or that he's never had the time or desire to gain such a form. Yet another growing part of him was telling him the opposite, that this is his body, his muscles, his everything.

Why deny such a form you've worked so hard on?

“Mmmph…” Mike hummed, voice continuing to deepen and making it sound like a low rumble. His eye twitched a bit as he felt a bead of sweat roll near it and down his face. His hand trailed back upwards, not sure if it's himself controlling it or the unknown force, but it slowly moved up his abs and back to his pecs. And while he entered what could only be classified as a hypnotized state, the transformation continued the move its way downwards. His jeans tightened around his form as the diameter of his waist got larger, the first sign that it wasn't very long until the lower half of his body was consumed by the changes.

The second sign was a stirring in his groin.

Mike’s cheeks flushed as he felt the front of his underwear begin to fill out. A sizable bulge was steadily forming, his endowment increasing in size much like the rest of his body had. Such an occurrence was also forcing the zipper of his jeans to start to split open against this new bulge. At the exact same time, the seat of his pants was filling out as well. Gluteus muscles getting larger, some fat accumulating in the area more, all of which was making his butt a bit more prominent and round beneath his jeans. It strained the back of his pants a bit more which put more pressure on his jeans. A good few seconds passed before finally the button holding them couldn't last any longer and ripped itself out the eyelet, the fly of his jeans now fully open.

That didn't end the torrent of pressure being put on his pants however. The transformation continued to cascade its way downwards, the man’s thighs being the next to thicken as heat surged in his leg muscles and forced his quads and hamstrings to grow in bulk and musculature. His calves practically burned as well as they practically ballooned out the back of the crus of his once skinny legs. Although at this point Mike’s lanky frame is now long gone, the last portion of it subsumed by muscle. The leg muscles of a man who knew how to train them, and who knew how to use them. This had also prompted another few inches to be added to Mike’s height as yet again the bones were shifted, strengthened, and extended beneath the muscle. The bottoms of the legs of his jeans steadily rode up his legs as a result, meanwhile the seams holding the sides together began ripping apart against his large muscularity.

The last portion of his lower body that was left to change were his feet, that region already beginning to shift as the space in his shoes quickly got filled out. In mere seconds his feet grew in size to fit the proportions of the rest of his body, lengthening and widening at a rapid pace. It wouldn't be long until the toe caps of his shoes bulged as all his toes pushed forward into them and continued to do so more. The back of his feet dug into the heels of his footwear, meanwhile the sides rubbed up against the shoe’s sides. This had predictably caused a major discomfort in the area, Mike disorientatedly stepping forward a bit in some weird attempt to shake off the pressure. But it didn't end and his footwear continued to bulge, the leathery cloth of it creaking and splitting as his feet continued to grow inside them. The front was already beginning to split off from the sole at this point thanks to his feet’s longer length. However, in one fell swoop, the front of his shoes burst open with a loud rip piercing the air. His toes were now out in the open, their chunkier and almost blockier appearance now visible. But at this point the changes in his feet had come to an end, the rest of his shoes just barely holding on against the width of his feet.

“Gghrrgh…” he groaned, his clothing feeling so uncomfortable against his larger body. “S-so small… unfitting… grragh…”

He swallowed a lump forming in his throat. The burning at the side of his neck had almost faded at this point, the tattoo he had given himself having inked itself into his skin to the point of it being a real tattoo. Furthermore his neck was wider, diameter larger and the size thicker. It made his vocal cords tingle, his breaths continuing to get deeper and deeper before settling on a tone that was more masculine than it used to be. Rougher, tougher, and rugged sounding. Although it seemed due to the size of his neck the choker he wore snapped off and slipped off him.

Show those strong muscles of yours, show that weak clothing of yours who's boss!

Mike’s groping came to a halt at this point. The man lifted up his arm, a dumb smile forming on his face as he gave it a good fleeeeex and watched as the sleeve of his shirt tore against his bicep. “Awesome!”

By this point the line of what was considered Mike and what was considered the strange force within him was blurring. The once foreign thoughts were becoming more proper, fitting for the person he was just about feeling he is. The new personality and mentality, one that felt more confident and stronger than he used to be. Although the concept of ‘used to be’ felt impossible. The more he stared at this strong form of his the more those earlier thoughts about this being his felt correct.

“Heheh, this feels good!” he stated, no longer supporting himself on the doorway and giving his other arm a good flex to watch the sleeve on it shatter over his muscles.

At this point the last set of physical changes were moving onto his face. As he smiled a pressure was wracking his skull, squeezing and sculpting his facial features into those of a completely different man. His skull structure got larger and wider, and with it his jawline reshaped and chiseled itself from the broadness. It almost protruded to the sides at this point. The way his jawline looked aided in shifting the way his skull physically appeared, the overall shape of his head looking boxy and rectangular.

With his jawline shifting, his once clean-shaven appearance got lost as black hairs poked out the skin of his chin. It started as a small amount rising from the tip of his chin, but that quickly spreaded across his lower jaw as a whole bunch more stubble dotted itself across the man’s jawline. Alongside that came more and more of his facial features getting shifted. The once rounded tip of his nose was getting pointier while the overall wideness of it narrowed a little bit. The brownish hairs of his eyebrows deepened to a dark black as they got thicker, bushier, and their appearance slanted until they gained an arched appearance. All of this had caused the previous appearance of Mike, the one that looked so worried and self-conscious, to be done away and morphed into the cocky visage of a new man that exuded raw confidence and self-assuredness!

His hair was the very last part that turned. The browns of the follicles deepened to a perfect black. The length of it shortened and caused the overall messy and fluffy appearance to disappear at a rapid pace. In its stead came a more well kept, spiky style as clumps of his hair slicked back and jutted backwards. However, the hair at the back of his head jutted upwards, and all this spiking met at a focal point at a specific point at the apex of his skull. It gave his hair an organized look that somehow still appeared laid-back. All of this ended off with his sideburns thickening and trailing down the sides of his face before ending an inch or two above where his jawline would start.

The same goofy yet confident smile on his face remained as he ran a hand through his hair and continued to admire a bicep. The man properly walked through the doorway and finally stepping into the living room. By now he didn't care about the discomfort in his clothing, and the questions of his identity were faded and buried beneath the knowledge that this is his identity. And for him he's always felt this way. So strong and assured of himself! He is talented skateboarder and actor, Lucas Lee!

With that mental declaration in his head there came one last, albeit minor, change: his clothing. The cottony feel of his shirt hardened as a deep black oozed across the once pristine white. Everywhere the darkness spread on his shirt a leather feel was formed, and that continued to occur for the next few moments. The shirt itself grew in size as this happened, and the very appearance of it was shifted. Metal lined the ends of the button-up’s split as the remaining buttons slipped off and dematerialized. As the metal continued to form a bit of the shirt folded into a lapel that the metal continued to line the end of before teaching the peak of the lapel’s tip.

The shirt’s collar flattened and extended to better meet the lapel, and by this point the leather appearance had spread across the entire torso section of what was once a shirt. Although as the leather extended itself onto the torn sleeves and repaired them, extending them over his arms and snaking the sleeves so long until they were an inch beneath his wrists, it was proven that this was no longer a shirt. Instead it was a leather jacket now. The rest of his clothing had a much less impressive change however. His pants repaired themselves and grew to better fit him, the denim shifting from its rich blue to a deep gray. His shoes did exactly the same as well by extending over his feet, covering his toes and growing airier, before properly sealing themselves shut and recoloring from black to blue.

With all of that finished the transformation had been solidified. All that was Mike was done away. His worries and concerns were cast, replaced with the confident persona of Lucas Lee. Although it was evident he got a lot more than just the persona.

“Eh?” Lucas raised a brow, stopping his self-admiration as he realized where he was. “The heck am I? Whose house is this?”

That question stayed important for about… two seconds before he decided he didn't care. “Whatever. Nobody’ll mind if I make myself comfortable for a bit!”

He takes a seat on the living room couch, completely ignores the fact his pants were unzipped, and perches his feet on the small table in front of it. He was about ready to fold his arms behind his head and lounge here for a bit, but was stopped when he felt his phone vibrate in a back pocket. With a grunt he shoved a hand into it and pulled it out, although he noticed that the thing looked a lot different than he remembered it being.

“Don't remember this having a gold case,” Lucas remarked as he pressed the power button to take it out of sleep mode. He would've realized the wallpaper was different from his usual as well, but his focus was on the singular message displayed on the screen.

Arti 💙 heading to your apartment now did you ever come up with someplace to actually go for our date??

Lucas tilted his head. Date? Who the heck was this guy?? Come to think of it, whose phone even is this?! There were a lot of questions crossing the man’s mind, but in the end he decided to do the most logical thing and answer the text as if it were his own phone.

You nope

With that Lucas put the phone back into sleep mode. He wasn't really sure who this Arti was or whose phone he was currently in possession of but truthfully he didn't really care all that much. He just felt like chilling out here for a bit before heading back out, probably for another late night skate session. Although after another few seconds a single thought crossed his mind.

…who's to say that Arti fellow wouldn't be a good time?

Lucas smiled. Perhaps he was going to be staying here for just a bit longer…

#character tf #tf #transformation #human tf #muscle growth tf #bara tf #male transformation

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courtfreakinmiller · 6 months

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Mine All Mine - Angela Giartanna x Fem!Reader

warnings: kissing, possessive behaviours, implied future smut, mention of throwing up (think that's it but let me know if there is more)

words: 1617

I know this sucks guys, but just bear with me, I haven't written for a long time and I am still tryna find my vibe again. Hope you enjoy though :)

Mine All Mine

Jealousy wasn't an emotion that Angela was used to, at least not until the last few months. When Y/N joined the Smosh cast at the beginning of the year, Angela quickly felt something drawing her in. She felt lost when Y/N wasn't near her and only complete when she had her eyes on the girl. So she set out to make sure she felt the same. Whether it was offering to grab Y/N's lunch when she picked up hers, always laughing extra hard at her bits, or even things as simple as always asking for her opinions on her newest jokes, she was always making an effort. Y/N had no issues with it, though; she thought it was cute, plus it made her feel safe around Angela. They always looked out for each other, told each other everything, and considered each other their best friends. Looking back, all the signs were there, but it was only on that day that Y/N finally picked up on I.

The cast had just wrapped the shoot for their most “fun” Eat It or Yeet It episode, which Garret had called the All-Stars episode. They brought back some of the best and worst dishes for an hour-long special. Unfortunately for her, Y/N got stuck with the worst dish of the game. No one thought she could manage it, and they were right. One mouthful in, she reached for her bucket and spat it all out. She coughed and choked as she spilled her guts. In an attempt to give her some comfort, Courtney rubbed Y/N's back. The second her hand made contact, Angela's eyes snapped to it. Why was Courtney touching her girl? No one was allowed to be that close to her. Was there something going on between them? No, Y/N would've told her, right?

As everyone made their way off set, Angela grabbed Y/N by the arm and dragged her away from her conversation until they were alone together in a far corner of the building. Angela stood there with her arms crossed and her brows furrowed. They stayed in silence for a moment, neither daring to speak. Finally, Y/N broke it.

"Hey, Ange, you ok? You look a bit upset there. What's on your mind, pretty girl?" She brushed some stray hair behind Angela's ear. Getting a bit flirty always cheered her up when she was having a bad day. But today it didn't seem to do the trick because Angela's demeanour hadn't changed.

"Why was Courtney all up on you earlier? Are the two of you together? Why wouldn't you tell me? I thought we were friends." Y/N's mouth opened in shock. Nothing was going on with Courtney; why would Angela even think that?

"No, we aren't together; don't worry. If I ever got with anyone, you would be the first person I'd tell, I promise." Y/N smiled at Angela, trying to offer any comfort. She wasn't sure what caused this little outburst. Sure, Angela could be a bit clingy sometimes, but never anything like this. Then Y/N noticed how Angela was nervously fidgeting with her sleeve. She took Angela by the hand and gently rubbed her thumb. “What's going on with you? You know you're the most important thing to me, why are you getting all worried about it?” Y/N whispered softly to her friend.

“What if... what if I don't want you dating anyone?” Angela mumbled. Y/N stayed quiet, she was confused. She loved Angela, probably more than she cared to admit, but she had never acted like this before. “What do you mean?” Before Y/N could question it more, Angela surged forward with an urgency neither woman had witnessed before. Before she knew it, Y/N could feel Angela's soft lips on hers. Butterflies erupted in her stomach. She didn't realise how desperately she had needed this. Their lips moved together, as one. It didn't take long for Angela to brush her tongue against Y/N's bottom lip. She gasped, and Angela used that chance to slip her tongue in. They fought for dominance, but Y/N soon lost, not that she ever really had a chance. The two leant into each other, Angela's hands on the back of Y/N's neck, pulling her in.

The kiss ended abruptly, though, as Angela pulled away slightly. Y/N caught herself trying to chase after her lips, she made note of how pathetic it was and thought to remind herself in future not to do it. Angela also made note of it, however, her reasoning was the opposite. She liked how quickly Y/N submitted to her. “You are mine. Is that understood? I don't want anyone else touching you. I need to know that you belong to me and me only.” Angela muttered through gritted teeth. Y/N could only manage a nod in reply. She looked at Angela, her eyes like a lost puppy looking for approval.

Over the next few months, the two built a relationship. They kept it private, though if anyone really wanted to figure it out, they could. Not too much had changed from before, but now you would never see one without the other. They were attached at the hip and were always touching in one way or another, whether it was a hand on one of their backs, an arm wrapped around their shoulders, or just sitting so close that their thighs were pressed up against each other. It didn't go unnoticed—a clear difference in their behaviour—but it wasn't enough to raise anyone's suspicions.

Then the day that Angela had been looking forward to for months arrived. The Starkid episode of TNTL. It was supposed to be the best day ever. But stupidly, Angela had not accounted for all the extra people that would be around her girlfriend.

The filming began, and Y/N was seated between Chance and Mariah.

While they were sat on the stools, Angela noted how close they were. She saw how they would grab each other every time they laughed and have quiet little conversations between each bit. She could feel the anger and jealousy bubbling up inside her. When it was time to swap over teams, Angela pulled Y/N aside quickly to give her a warning before going to her stool.

When the other team started doing their bits, Angela quickly noticed that whenever Mariah was out, so was Y/N, and vice versa. She was already angry, but now it just felt like they were doing it on purpose. She knew she couldn't technically blame Mariah; she didn't know about Angela and Y/N's relationship. But Y/N was to blame. Angela had even been kind enough to give her a warning.

When the shoot finally finished, everyone decided to hang out for a bit. Mariah and Y/N were together the entire time. As the afternoon went on, Angela could feel her jealousy build up moment by moment. She didn't know what to do. She couldn't drag Y/N away without most likely outing their relationship, but she couldn't just let this go on.

Neither was a good option, but Angela soon decided she would invite Y/N over after work so they could talk about it (among other things, hopefully).

When Angela and Y/N were alone together, talking was not an activity they could manage much of. They couldn't keep their hands off each other. But Angela was determined to show the younger girl who she belonged to.

“Mine.” Y/N had barely made it through the front door before she was being pushed up against it.

“Of course, I'm yours, baby. Why would you ever doubt that?” Angela noticed the look of innocence on Y/N's face. She wasn't going to let this slide.

“Mariah was all over you, flirting with you, touching you, she was obviously into you. You just let her act like that. Were you trying to get a rise out of me? Cause it worked,” Angela growled, keeping Y/N up against the wall.

“No, I was literally just spending time with a friend, Angela. You always get so worked up about things like this. If you can't handle me just communicating with people, then maybe we should have some space. I need to be able to have a life outside of you." Y/N shoved Angela off her. She walked further into the apartment and slumped down onto the sofa. Work had worn her out, and now she was coming home to Angela being like this.

“What does that mean? Are you trying to break up with me right now?” Fear was present in Angela's voice now. This wasn't what she'd expected to happen. She thought they'd maybe argue a bit, then ultimately settle it in the bedroom. Knowing she was at risk of losing Y/N made her realise that maybe she had overreacted a bit. Y/N sighed as Angela walked over to her.

“No, pretty girl. I could never break up with you. I think both of us are tired and need to chill out a bit. Come here, we can cuddle and put on a film for a bit. How does that sound?” Y/N the cushion next to her as she spoke. Angela smiled as she sat down on the sofa. While they were discussing what film to watch, Y/N crawled onto Angela's lap. It had been a while since they had been able to just sit together and relax. As Angela pulled the girl closer to her, she heard a small whisper come from her.

“Just to be clear, I'm still getting laid tonight.” And with that, Angela decided that this was definitely the best day ever. She got to keep Y/N, and she gets hot make-up sex for another one of their "not really an argument" arguments.

#nerdy prudes must die #grace chasity #angela giarratana #starkid #smosh #daily angela appreciation #angela giarranata #angela giarratana x reader #x reader fanfiction #fanfic

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girl-in-the-mirrorbluenight · 5 months

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Okay I've been thinking about this pretty much all day since I saw the hbomberguy and then todd in the shadows video i just have so many thoughts. While I wouldn't necessarily call myself a Video Essayist™ (I've only made a few over the years) as a youtuber and someone who has made video essays i definitely have more experience than the average person. There are so many things that stand out to me about this whole debacle i dont even know where to start.

First I want to just give a little insight into the process for making video essays from people who've never given it a shot and just how absurd it is to do the type of plagiarizing James has done. Video essays take a fuckton of research, even for pretty simple topics, but on top that you also have to make them with the medium of video in mind. it's really not enough to just take an essay you would write for a class and read it out loud. the flow is different, you have to have accompanying visuals, often background music, etc. They're a beast to make. My Twisted video for which i used literally two sources for my research (Sondheim's books and the musical Twisted) still took days of thorough reading, note taking, watching the musical, watching the musical again, watching the musical and taking notes, cross-referencing my notes, etc. For videos that synthesize multiple sources or are covering multiple pieces of media, that time goes up exponentially. Then there's writing, recording, gathering clips (often one of the most difficult parts depending on how obscure what you're talking about is), and editing. Even for a silly video like my Glee video, I still had to do a ton of research to make sure I was getting things correct, and that was a funny tier list about freaking Glee! There is just no way you could come up with a thorough analysis by just copying and pasting. Which brings me to my next point.

I think James may have thought (or more likely rationalized) what he was doing as analysis based on like the vaguest definition. When you do any kind of analysis, what you're doing is taking research from multiple different places (news articles, primary sources, existing analysis, etc.) and coming to your own conclusions, whether that's a synthesis of those different sources, or applying it to a specific thing like a movie. Really simple example is my Twisted video where I take Sondheim's writing and apply it to a specific piece of media (in this case Twisted). I'm using existing work but coming to my own conclusion. In the Spies Are Forever video, I took existing research about the Lavender Scare and the Hays Code, including primary sources from the time period, and applied it to the musical Spies are Forever. What James seem to do is take a bunch of existing scholarship, copy and paste it all together and then come to a "conclusion" that was not actually his own original thoughts but either "facts" he completely made up or something that didn't do anything to actually link his other "sources" together. I can see why it has the veneer of analysis, but making up a random "fact" you think might be true is not the same as a drawing a conclusion based on research.

I also think Todd made a really good point in the part about England's propaganda campaign against Italy around 9:30 that it's just really bad video making to not include examples of images from this so called propaganda campaign. I have a ton of examples of news clips, government reports, etc. in my SaF video about the Lavender Scare because...it was a real historic thing that happened! If something was supposedly so widespread and not even that long ago, you can probably find evidence of it somewhere. Kaz Rowe (who is also linked in the queer creators playlist on hbomberguy's vid) talked about this a lot in their video about tiktok misinfo where people often make these outrageous claims but the thing is if something so outrageous happened (like people constantly shitting on the floors of versailles), other people at the time would probably be talking about it somewhere. It's a big red flag when someone makes such bold claims and has no evidence to back it up.

Putting this last section under the cut because I go talk about WWII, Nazis, and HIV/AIDS a bit (watch Todd's video for some more context) so if you don't want to see that post is over here.

Lastly I wanted to talk about something else Kaz brings up in a lot of their videos when talking about historical topics and that is the tendency to dehumanize people of the past, often as unwashed, unintelligent masses who would just do any ridiculous disgusting thing because they were so stupid and disgusting. There are a lot of things to criticize about the people of the past and their actions obviously, but we cannot forgot that they were in fact, people. Real individual people with their own lives and dreams and ambitions and individual opinions and they have never been and never will be a monolith. Claiming anything is broadly true of "the victorians" or "the ancient egyptians" or whatever other vague historical group you want to talk about is usually a lot more nuanced than "they all thought or acted in this one particular way". I'm certainly not a historian and i've only done one history focused video but James Somerton seemed to make a lot of broad historical claims in his videos that I think fall into this trap.

The one that stood out most to me in Todd's video was the claim about Nazi body standards which is a whole mess in general that Todd goes into for a while, but the way he talks about WWII soldiers was just like...weird. Besides the fact that a lot of his claims about Nazis seem to be bordering on glorifying them and their aesthetics (gross), I think we should remember that WWII was less than a century ago. There are still over 100,000 surviving WWII vets in the US. My grandfather who was in the Army during WWII (he didn't serve overseas but he was an enlisted soldier I can literally look up his enlistment records in the national archives online) was a real person who I obviously knew personally and who died fairly recently. To think he enlisted because he was jealous of German fitness or whatever and wanted to prove how tough Americans are is an absolutely hilarious thing to think if you knew him. I'm sure there are as many reasons for enlisting as there were enlisted soldiers. When James talks about even as relatively narrow of a group as "WWII American soldiers," he's still talking about a very large group of real and diverse people and to make such broad claims that "most" or even "a lot" of them were just so taken in by strong german physiques or whatever is frankly insulting. I haven't watched the entirety of James video so maybe he does address this at some point, but from the clips I've seen it seems very generalized and implies some level of racism when WWII soldiers in fact included a lot of racially diverse people. IDK, i think if you're a supposed historical researcher and you're making a video about WWII and you don't know about groups like the Tuskegee Airmen or the Navajo Code Talkers, that's on you. I don't want to discount some of the really horrible shit that American (and obviously other countries) soldier's did in the war and how many of them held disgusting views (even my grandpa who I love dearly was not the most politically correct person to put it lightly) but Jame's claims are not criticizing any real ideology or the consequences of them, they're oversimplifying complex and harmful historical ideas and attributing them to something he pretty much made up. I'll also give you a little hint about something. When people fall into Nazi ideology, it's because they ultimately agree with the ideology, not for some surface level aesthetic reason of "fitness" or whatever. They are antisemitic, they are racist, they are eugenicists, plain and simple. They don't just think the Nazis are cool except for all their beliefs. I also think (and again I could be missing a part of the video here) the hyper focus on the Germans and the Soviets and not mentioning Italy is at the very least an oversight too. Mussolini, like Hitler and Stalin, had a pretty big campaign of promoting an ideal strong race which he tied to ancient Romans. Like this was also a country controlled by a fascist dictator that American soldiers fought in idk it just seems weird to me to leave it out. (okay edit i looked up the transcript and he does talk about Italian fascism a little bit but only about how Mussolini rose to power, nothing about his ideologies or anything really related to the main topic of body image).

And one more thing on that note that bothered me a lot. I think his claims about HIV/AIDS is probably the most well-known here on tumblr and has been pretty thoroughly destroyed by this point, but I do just want to say one more thing about it which is that AIDS isn't gone! I feel like they way he talks about it from what I've seen of this video makes HIV/AIDS sound like a problem of the past now that we have drugs for it, but that is just not the truth. There are still tens of thousands of new infections in the US each year and way more globally and yes, people do still die from it. I just don't like when people talk about AIDS as if it's this problem of the distant past, a separate era that people went through in the 80s rather than an ongoing epidemic that still does not have a cure. Safer sex, clean needle usage, and getting tested are just as important now as they were in the 80s and 90s and don't forget that.

#hbomberguy #todd in the shadows #james somerton #youtube

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elronds-meleth-nin · 1 month

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Bruinen's Eastern Shore - Part 2: By Mo(u)rning's Light

I know it took a bit, but here's part 2! If you want to be added to or removed from my taglist, please feel free to let me know!

Cross-posted to AO3 here.

~*~

Elrond x Reader

[A/N: I haven’t seen RoP, and I don’t plan to, so this is Hugo Weaving’s Elrond. All of my knowledge regarding this universe comes from the Jackson movies and the books.]

Warnings: Slow burn, Elf x Human romance, age gap (obviously), mentions of combat, death, blood, undefined magic (I'm winging it so don't think about it too hard), injury/recovery, grieving, death of a parent (mentioned not seen), elvish singing.

~*~

My dreams were erratic at first, then they faded into something calmer. The screams of my dying people transformed into the sounds of a nearby waterfall and the gentle hum of a low, soothing voice. Was he singing or speaking? Perhaps both?

A flash of armor - somewhere between red and purple in hue - coupled with a kind, smiling face and pointed ears swam through my mind.

I knew that face, but my mind was too slow and fuzzy to place it with a name. My father would've berated me for forgetting, surely, but, why was I so sure of that when I didn't know who he was? My thoughts were lethargic, as if they were coated with honey as I tried to remember what I'd forgotten.

After a time, the armor he wore was changed for a tunic and a set of robes that looked softer than anything I'd ever before felt.

He was beautiful.

A light, amused laugh trickled over my ears and I wondered if I'd spoken aloud or if he could read peoples' thoughts.

"Sleep, brave lady," he urged, and his voice was so hypnotically soothing that I felt inclined to obey, "sleep and recover your strength. You are safe now."

And so I did. Oblivion was seductive, drawing me in as easily as a moth to a flame. Eventually, the warmth on my face coaxed me into opening my eyes as I wondered hazily whether I had truly transformed into a moth during my slumber.

But, it was not so. The sunlight streaming into the strangely elegant room confirmed my hopes. This place was like no other I'd seen before. There were no Orcs, no bleeding people, no abrupt, terrifying death. Only light, gentle and joyful, whispering its congratulations to me for surviving.

This was the home of Elves. It had to be!

Turning my head slowly, I noted that I was alone in this large, beautiful room. Adorned as though it belonged to a king rather than an injured mortal woman, this room boasted silk curtains fine enough that they were practically translucent. Bookshelves lined two of the four walls, arching over the doorway. Every bit of fabric in the space, including the blanket which covered me, was of the highest quality - not a stitch was out of place.

Cautiously, I tested my muscles, and, finding that there was no pain beyond the vague, lingering soreness that always followed physical exertion, I sat up in the plush bed. Instinct brought my hand to my sternum, and to my relief, my pendant was still there. I hadn't lost it!

As I moved, a nightgown as light and comfortable as a cloud whispered reassuringly over my skin - my clean skin.

I'd obviously been tended, healed, and bathed in my unconscious state. I felt a rush of gratitude for whomever had drawn the short straw and been subsequently tasked with removing the grime and black Orc blood that had dried on my skin and in my hair. I could feel no trace of any impediment as my fingertips ran through the strands near my shoulder. Patting the top of my head lightly, though, I discovered a pair of small braids running along either side of my scalp and merging at the back.

Tears welled up in my eyes, but I blinked them back. Someone had taken a great deal of time to care for me.

Rising carefully to my feet, I savored the texture of the warm, smooth stone beneath my feet - a simple pleasure that a life on the run had not afforded me for some time. The closest comparison in recent memory was a large stone on a riverbank that had been warmed in the sun, but even those could cut the soles of one's feet if caution wasn't utilized.

A tall pair of doors composed of wood and glass stood open, allowing a breeze inside and revealing a balcony bathed in sunlight. As soon as I reached the doorway, a gasp escaped my lips.

Laid before me was Imladris in all its glory. The sound I'd heard before wasn't just one waterfall as I'd assumed, but many. Cascading and caressing the landscape, spraying water droplets so completely illuminated that they appeared to be crystals flung from a treasure chest, they joined at the valley floor. Leaves grew from centuries' old trees in all shapes and colors, their rustling creating a symphony when the breeze caught them. More flowers than I could ever possibly count or name bloomed and blossomed, filling the air with sweet perfume, and upon the breeze were a few floating musical notes.

Was I entirely certain that I hadn't died? A place as lovely as this was beyond imagination! Surely, this could not all be real...?

"I am pleased to see you awake, but I did not expect to find you out of bed so soon, híril vuin." A familiar voice called from behind me, soft and soothing, not unlike the silence of his entry. I turned to face my visitor, and my breath caught in my throat.

Truly, even my mother's drawings could not do the Elven lord justice. His beauty was incomparable. The sunlight seemed not only to be streaming into the room, but emanating from within him, as well. His long, dark hair cascaded down his back with twin strands pulled in front of his ears, looping into intricate little patterns. His eyes, though gray, sparkled with joy and life. With the focus of such a gorgeous, regal Ellon solely on me, I could scarcely breathe.

I also felt woefully under-dressed in comparison. There I stood in naught but a nightgown when he was in robes of finer quality than I'd ever seen before.

"Lord Elrond," my voice came out embarrassingly rough and shaky from disuse. How long had I been out? "Forgive me, if I'd known you were coming–"

He held up a hand to halt the tidal wave of apologies that was certain to spill from my clumsy mouth.

"You owe me no apologies," the Elf murmured, giving me a warm smile. "Like your parents before you, I welcome you to Imladris with open arms."

Elrond's eyes were soft as he appraised my appearance. More gracefully than my muscles could have allowed, he walked toward me.

"How are you feeling?" Concern creased his brow as he offered me his hand. I took it without thinking, realizing a beat too late how rough my own fingers must feel compared to his own. "Do you have any lingering pain? Does anything feel wrong?"

"No, my lord. Your healers have done their jobs exceedingly well." At my statement, the Ellon smiled and allowed his thumb to skim over the back of my hand. "If I may, I'd like to thank them in person. I was rather a mess when you saved us."

"Caring for you was no trouble, I can assure you, my lady," he said, and before I could protest, he gave me a mock stern look. "I speak for none but myself. I tended you personally."

My eyes widened at that new piece of information. The Lord of Rivendell had healed me?

"My lord, I am incredibly grateful for your efforts, truly I am, but you needn't have wasted so much time on me."

With an indulgent smile, he looked into my eyes and lifted an eyebrow.

"Mellon-nin, you are well enough to stand on your own two feet again. I do not consider anything that I have done for you a waste of time," his assertion was gentle and sincere, sending butterflies swarming in my stomach. I needed to keep a tight leash on my emotions, otherwise I'd end up looking like an idiot. If I embarrassed myself in front of Lord Elrond after everything he'd already done for me, I was certain that I'd be so mortified that I'd have to leave Rivendell never to return. "Now, my lady, if you might have a seat upon the bed, I would like to check you over once more."

"Of course, my lord." He guided me back to the divinely plush bed with a hand over my lower back. With a soft, affectionate smile, Lord Elrond sat by my side and grasped my hands. Warmth flooded through me, and I couldn't help but wonder if that was magic.

"Your actions in the river...may I ask if you have done anything like that before?" The Elven lord asked as he assessed various points - a bruise on my shoulder that had already mostly disappeared, an angry, fading, red line where an Orc sword had found its mark, and various other places where no evidence was left of what injury had previously existed.

My cheeks burned at how closely he focused on both me and his work.

"In a way," I murmured as he pressed the backs of his fingers lightly against my forehead then my cheek. "Only small things, though. Silly, trivial little tricks."

He lifted his eyebrows in an encouraging, almost playful manner.

"Might I ask about the nature of these little tricks?" His fingers skimmed down my jawline, and I struggled to suppress a shiver.

With a mischievous smile, I took a deep breath to steady myself and looked over at the pitcher of water upon the bedside table. A flick of my fingers, and a bird made entirely of water formed standing atop the pitcher. It tilted its head and fluttered its wings as a real bird would, then took flight, swirling around the room. Its sparkling body whizzed past our heads, flapping its wings, and in a moment of impulsivity, I caught Lord Elrond's hand in mine and turned his palm upward. The bird's tiny water-feet landed in his hand, folding its wings down and looking up at him.

Only then did I allow myself to glance at the Elf lord's expression. The smile that played across his much-too-attractive mouth sent a bolt of satisfaction through me. To actively give a person like him a moment of wonderment...that was a heady sensation. It was very little in repayment for all that he had done for me, but it was a beginning.

"Incredible," he breathed as the bird hopped lightly across his palm. "How much of a strain does this place upon you?"

"Almost none at all. I learned to make shapes and objects with water when I was little, and I practiced whenever I was bored. For a child in a group of nomads, you there is a surprising amount of downtime between chores," I explained allowing the bird to changed into a large, watery, rose bloom upon the lord's hand. It wasn't even half as beautiful as someone like him deserved. "When I got older, one of the other children saw me practicing by the river, and these tricks became a way to entertain the little ones."

The laughter had lifted the entire camp's morale during those long, slow treks through the mountains or across barren stretches of land when setting up tents became monotonous. My father had been afraid of allowing me to use my abilities for quite some time, but even he had to admit that sometimes that bit of levity was just what was needed to lift his peoples' spirits.

My father. My people. So many had died, yet there I sat in a plush bed, creating silly little shapes in water. Had any lived besides myself?

As if he could sense my mood fading, Lord Elrond's eyes met mine just in time to see my own smile droop. With a flick of my fingers, I lifted the water from his hand and allowed it to dampen the soil in a few of the plants on the balcony.

Unable to meet my host's gaze for fear of what I might see, I lifted my chin and asked the question to which I dreaded finally having an answer.

"How many of my people survived?"

"Including yourself, my lady, three still live." Elrond's voice was full of sympathy and comfort, despite the horrible reality of what had transpired. "Five were brought here, but two had sustained wounds too severe for us to treat in time. I am so sorry."

Three. Assuming the other half of our people went unnoticed by the Orc hoard when we split up - and that was a big assumption - that meant there were only fifteen left. We'd been down to twenty four after the initial attack that killed my father. With nine more gone, I didn't know what to do exactly.

I nodded my head slowly, blinking away my tears and forcing myself to look at my host once more.

"The others who lived...may I see them?" He agreed easily.

"Of course, my lady. I shall take you to them," Elrond murmured. Practically gliding across the room, he plucked a soft, light blue robe and a pair of matching slippers from a small alcove.

With my arm looped through his, we walked down a long hallway lit only by the sun. The rest of his home was just as gorgeous as the single room I'd been in, but I did not absorb much of my surroundings that day. My emotions and obligations to my people occupied too much space in my mind for anything else to make an impression.

I heard him before I saw him - the angry, stubborn, gruff man who'd tried to call me away from the water the day we'd gotten into such trouble.

Surprise must have been etched across my features, because Lord Elrond released a quiet huff of laughter as we neared a pair of double doors.

"Ah, yes. Mekor has been asking after you in...his own way," my host stated, and I knew immediately what he meant. Mekor had likely been demanding to see me in a rather less-than-polite way. "Unfortunately, I have not been able to allow him out of bed. His leg will take some time to fully heal. That has not stopped him from embarking upon several unplanned excursions to attempt to find you, however."

I couldn't help the laugh that bubbled out of me. That sounded like him, alright.

When we pushed the doors open, his rather loud promise to one of the healers that he would 'gallivant as much it damn well took' ceased.

"There is no need for such drastic measures. Your lady is awake and quite capable of seeing you now," Elrond called as we walked toward the grumpy man's bedside. His leg was bound and heavily bandaged, laying atop the bedding presumably to keep him from sweating through his dressings.

"Lass, do you know how badly you scared us? What in the name of everything were you thinkin' runnin' back into the water like that? You could've been killed!" He spluttered angrily for a moment, but I was too used to his behavior to be bothered by it.

"I'm glad you're alive too," I said reaching out and grasping his rough, weathered hand in mine. Sitting gingerly beside him on the bed, I nearly fainted when I saw tears gathering in his eyes. He gripped my fingers with a fierce vengeance.

"Foolish bloody girl. What would your father have said if I let you run off and get killed?" Lord Elrond pulled the healer aside, and the pair spoke in hushed whispers on the other side of the room. He was trying to give us a moment's privacy while also ensuring his most stubborn patient didn't try to put weight on his obviously broken leg again.

"There was something different about that last group of Orcs, wasn't there?" I asked quietly, and my friend's gaze turned somber and angry.

"Aye, lass. Those weren't your garden variety filth. I've already spoken to Elrond about them. Those were soldiers. For so many of them to have Warg mounts..." The grizzled man shook his head slowly. "Something is stirring in the dark corners of the world. Something that doesn't want people like you, me, and your father to keep fighting."

I looked at him curiously, and he blinked as if remembering something.

"But, there will be plenty of time to discuss that later," he murmured changing the topic. I tucked that statement away for a day when we were both recovered.

Mekor and I spoke quietly for a few moments, in which I was told that the woman he'd taken a fancy to, Tannen, was the other survivor. The two who had reached Rivendell but died from their injuries were an old soldier called Algun, and a younger one around my age called Garatan. I knew them both in a peripheral manner. I was acquainted with all of my father's fighters and had trained with each at some point, but some I knew better than others.

After several long moments, a few more affectionate scoldings, and a promise that I'd help keep him from going out of his mind since he wasn't allowed to walk around yet, the doors opened once more. A young Ellon walked straight over to Lord Elrond, and after delivering a whispered message, both the lord and his messenger approached our sides.

"Forgive our interruption, but I think you both might like to know that your companion, Tannen has awakened," Lord Elrond said, and I knew precisely what Mekor would do. Pushing him back down on the bed when he tried to get to his feet, I gave him a stern look which paired surprisingly well with our host's continuation. "I realize you wish to see her, and you will be able to on the morrow. I wish to have her rest abed for one more night to be sure of her recovery, but I swear to you that if her health permits, you will see her tomorrow, Master Mekor."

He looked fit to be tied at Lord Elrond's statement, but with a glance at me, he let out a resigned sigh.

"Fine. Fine, but I shall hold you to that, laddie." To his credit, Elrond took his irritation in stride, an easy, amused smile finding its seemingly customary place upon his lips.

"I would be disappointed if you did not. For now, however, I believe your lady is in need of nourishment. Spending nearly four days asleep can take quite a toll on the appetite." I couldn't argue with his logic, and neither did my friend.

I did, however, have a bone to pick with the little somersault that my heart performed when Lord Elrond offered me his hand and a warm smile.

When he went to check on his guest that morning, Elrond had expected to find her awake, yet too weak or tired to get out of bed. She was strong, of course, but since she was mortal, her recovery time would be longer than that of his own people. He'd frozen in the doorway, however, with confusion knitting his brow at the sight of the empty bed before him.

A quick glance around the room nearly made his heart stop. The Elven lord's lips parted in surprise. Standing in the doorway that led to the balcony was not a frail, injured woman as he'd expected to see, but a goddess bathed in sunlight.

And, when he'd broken his silence and she turned to face him, her eyes met his, freezing his breath where it lay in his chest. She'd gazed at him with awe, but he doubted that she recognized that the feeling was very mutual. Elrond had noticed her beauty when he was tending to her, of course, but he'd been so focused on healing her that he'd not allowed his thoughts to linger. To do so would have been highly inappropriate, and was, as such, not the time to allow himself to become distracted.

Nor was it the time when he checked her over, asked about her powers, or took her to see her irritable friend. Elrond had heard of Mekor by reputation, of course, and he was secretly pleased that the ill-tempered Man had survived. Despite the barbs that were tossed his way when he'd put the old soldier on strict bedrest, he was glad that someone who was so determined to get back to his lady - who had fought so fiercely to protect her - still drew breath. Such loyalty could not be feigned.

She'd been more subdued than before when he brought her back to her chambers. Upon their return, the table near one of the windows held a tray of food and a pot of herbal tea which would help her regain her strength. It was a special blend that Elrond had perfected over the years in his capacity as a healer.

As the pair sat and ate together, the Elven Lord could not help but notice the dark mood that settled over her. Although she tried to hide it, she was being tormented by her thoughts.

He had seen that look before - minute flashes of grief that she attempted to keep out of his sight, her shoulders tensing as if she was carrying the weight of all Middle Earth on her own. Many of his warriors had been plagued by the same darkness when they returned from battle, wondering why they had survived when so many others had not. Some recovered. Some sailed for Valinor when they could not find the strength to move forward.

No. He could not allow this to go on. She was descended of both Elves and Men. She had the ability to process her grief and allow her pain to transform into that which would strengthen her. His lady might need some assistance to begin the process, but there was a sort of quiet power in her eyes. Elrond saw it every time he looked at her. By the Valar, he would do whatever it took to ensure that she would not fall. Not to this. Not to grief. That emotion had consumed too many of his people...had sent too many of them sailing to the Undying Lands before their time.

He would not allow this pain to take her. She'd seen so many horrors in her brief time on Middle Earth. If he could take even an ounce of her pain and use it to heal her, the Lord of Imladris was resolved to do it.

But, it had to be soon. It had to be that night, before the pain took root in an irreversible manner. They'd both experienced losses many times, but this was different. This was close to her heart.

When she attempted to hold back a yawn and failed rather spectacularly, Elrond was tugged from his thoughts as a smile played across his lips. She gave a sheepish laugh, and he suggested that she get some rest. They'd been talking for several hours at that point. If he truly planned to help her tonight, she needed to conserve her energy.

Taking the empty tray with him to deposit in the kitchens, the Ellon excused himself and strode down the corridor. He'd made it halfway back to his study when Lindir caught up to him.

"I have done as you asked," the younger Ellon said to his lord.

"Then the preparations have been made?" Elrond asked as the pair continued down the hall.

"Yes, hir-nin, but are you certain that tonight is truly the right time?" Lindir had a point, and if it was anyone else he would risk waiting, but for her he was not willing to place her future in the hands of chance, especially if what he suspected was true.

"I saw her pain...it already hangs over her like a cloud. If she is to move forward, then we must do this." He was accustomed to his own grief - he had, after all, lived for so very long...had known so many people.

"But, is she not still exhausted?"

Pausing before the door to his study, Lord Elrond turned to face Lindir.

"She is tired, yes, but she is more resilient than even I could have predicted. She is ready. She needs this release." Her Númenorian blood was potent, that was for certain. It did not matter that she was descended from the race of Men. She also had Elvish blood in her veins. She was Dúnedain, even if she did not yet know it - perhaps one of the most unique that had ever been born, if he was interpreting the signs correctly. She could handle this.

Soft notes floating upon the night air drew me from the realm of sleep. A strange yet familiar prickling sensation curled across my skin, caressing my face, my neck, and my arms where the sleeves of my borrowed nightgown ended.

As light as a whisper, my mind supplied an answer: magic.

Magic was in the air. The realization was somehow both comforting and intriguing. When I finally mustered the energy to open my eyelids, a voice joined with the faint strains of music, and I looked toward the balcony.

There, with the silver circlet upon his brow gleaming in the moonlight and a set of robes as deep as the night sky adorning his figure, Lord Elrond stood singing. My breath caught in my throat even as his voice danced through the night, filling the Hidden Valley with an aria both gentle and mournful. When we spoke earlier, his voice had sounded lovely and soothing, but this stirred something deep within my soul.

It was ridiculous, because he was on my balcony in the first place, but I felt as though I was intruding upon something incredibly personal.

One-by-one, several other voices joined with the lord's, harmonizing and adding several haunting layers of melancholy dimension, turning his aria into a duet, then a trio, a quartet, continuing on until there was a full-fledged choir of ten. He stood facing not into the valley, but with his left side toward me.

As silently as I could, I slipped out of bed and took a slow step toward him. Cupped gently in Elrond's hands was a smooth, round, stone lantern glowing white. It was obviously fueled by something other than fire. The light caressed his features as affectionately as a lover's fingertips, and before I could even think of moving, his eyes met mine.

The glow of a thousand stars, the wisdom of all the ages of the world, and the grief of a painful loss danced through his irises as I stood paralyzed. Extending a hand in my direction, the Lord of Imladris offered me a silent invitation.

As I approached his place on the balcony, I glanced quietly around, noting that other ethereal lanterns and their bearers dotted various spots around the valley. How many others were involved in this? And what was this, exactly? I didn't dare ask aloud, lest I interrupt the haunting choir of voices in their mission.

When I reached him, Lord Elrond's hand guided both of mine to the lantern in his grasp. Looking between the seemingly living radiance in our hands and his eyes, I watched as the light grew between us, seemingly fed by the addition of my touch.

I knew without asking that this wasn't just a sad melody. This was a lamentation for the nine lost in our flight across land and river.

But, there were ten lanterns...

A single tear spilled down his cheek, and all at once it hit me. The tenth lantern was for my father. Twin tears of my own escaped my eyes as the music swelled, as the voices grew louder.

He saw my grief just as I saw his.

Neither of us looked away from the vulnerability we were both displaying so openly. Neither of us released the lantern between us. The song began rattling around in my ribcage, jostling my heart and shaking free every ounce of pain that I hadn't realized I'd started bottling up. Though I didn't know the lyrics, I caught a few Sindarin words that I recognized, and one that puzzled me.

The light in our hands pulsed brightly as at least a dozen more voices joined in. Smaller lights bloomed to life in their hands all through Imladris, and I must not have been able to keep the wonder off of my face, because a flicker of a sad smile crossed Elrond's lips as he began lifting our hands higher.

His arms were longer than mine, and I had to take a step closer to remain in contact with the strange, magical lantern. As I watched, the light floated up and away from its thin, nearly transparent stone rim and into the sky. The other bearers of the original ten lights were experiencing the same phenomenon, and after a few moments, the fleet of smaller bright dots followed in their wake.

The Hidden Valley was filled with stars, rising ever upwards toward the heavens. As far as I'd heard, very few mortals had ever been honored by the Elves upon their deaths, and never like this.

As the music diminished, voices fell slowly away, taking with them pieces of the heavy ache that had settled in the hollow spot in my heart. First, the many who had joined last, then one-by-one, each of the other nine singers went silent.

Then, it was only Elrond singing the last few mournful notes. But, there was something different about the words, now. They were lighter...more hopeful. Setting the darkened, empty lantern aside, he took both of my hands in his large, warm ones as the last notes flowed effortlessly, beautifully off his tongue and into the night.

The physical contact felt like an anchor point keeping me tethered to the ground when I felt like I could float away in the wake of such an outpouring of emotion. The air still hummed with magic when I found myself reaching up and gently wiping the tears from Lord Elrond's cheeks. I hadn't even meant to do it, but I couldn't help myself. An Ellon as kind as he did not deserve to have tear tracks dry on his handsome face.

It hit me, then, that I had taken an enormous liberty, but instead of batting my hands away, the Elven lord returned the gesture with a soft smile.

His touch lingered for several long moments even after my own face was dry, and something passed between us, then, that made my heartbeat stutter in my chest.

No, I was obviously imagining things. A trick of the light, that's all it was. When he wrapped his arms around me, however, I couldn't ignore how wonderful it felt to be safe, to be cared for...to be seen.

~*~*~

Elvish Translations:

híril vuin = beloved lady

mellon-nin = my friend

~*~

Taglist:

@asksizworld

#elronds-meleth-nin fic #Elrond x Reader

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ametistacollinsworld · 1 year

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❁ Platonic! Frank x Mute! Friend! Female! Anthropomorphic Moth! Reader ❁

My 62 request! Hope you like!

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You were a girl who always knew you had something special- I mean… it's not often you see a Maple Rosy Moth, anthropomorphic and six feet tall… but, since you lived in a world where puppets were a kind of "rare race", we can say that you managed to pass yourself off as a "puppet" and live a "normal" life among humans.

Until one day, you came across a recording studio with puppets! They seemed to be recording for a children's show called "Welcome Home", which seemed to be a huge hit with the kids… of course you decided to sneak onto the recording set… what? You would also be curious and want to go explore wouldn't you?

But, what really made the situation funny was how all the security, staff and even producers mistook you for a puppet! Nobody really questioned why you were there, just assuming you were a new addition to the main cast or simply a special guest character, which was funny to you at the very least… since you don't have the ability to speak, and never had even imagined going that far, but that was still too good for your own amusement, continuing to look around the place curiously.

Until you found a corridor full of doors, where each door was decorated with different colors and designs, having a single star at the top with the name of each character/actor of the cartoon, you guessed. But, the door that most caught your attention was a light gray door, where there were several drawings of butterflies and flowers of different colors, with the name "Frank" in its star, so you decided to go to it and knock softly, trying to see your luck.

" Come in! " A neutral voice called from behind the door, probably "Frank" you concluded, thus, hearing that you can open the door.

" You must be the new makeup artist! You're kind of late- " Frank started talking in a slightly annoyed tone as they turned around, which soon dissipated when they saw you, seeing your vibrant pink and yellow features, along with your beautiful moth wings, antennae and even glowing eyes. The two of you two stared at each other in silence for a second, just scrutinizing each other.

" You're not my new makeup artist… and you're not human or puppet… what are you? You are not a puppet " Frank spoke in a slow tone, possibly trying to stay calm as they looked in your direction.

The puppet's words didn't surprise you too much, after all, you were a strange anthropomorphic moth girl- and they were a real puppet… they should have known you weren't one of them.

You just blinked for a moment, then responding with a simple X sign in your mouth with your fingers, Frank seemed to sigh impatiently crossing their arms.

" Let me analyze the situation.. you are apparently a creature who cannot speak.. who entered to explore the studio by pretending.. rather- Being mistaken for a puppet- Explored the studio this far, and found my dressing room interesting, and decided to try your luck? " Frank spoke in a monologue, finishing their thought by looking at you with questioning eyes, which you smiled at them clapping your hands like a small child.

" Well, you seem nice enough. I don't think you meant it, I guess- You can stay then.. just don't let anyone who's human know you're not a puppet, they probably wouldn't want you here- " Frank did a little monologue once more, only to be interrupted by you giving them a big hug rubbing your furry cheeks against their cheeks, which they tried to pull away from as you made happy cooing sounds.

" I get it! You're happy! But please let me go! Your fur tickles- " Frank spoke in a desperate tone, which you didn't mind, just hugging they very happily. You two would be good friends.

So said, so done! You and Frank ended up becoming good friends, with you paying them visits and even their other friends on set! You ended up getting along very well with everyone, especially Howdy too, who shared characteristics of an insect… and Home- not so much- but you tried to ignore the house for some reason, what is unknown to everyone.

And here you were, in Frank's dressing room once again, just waiting for them, with yet another of your many little moth friends, this one being white in color with black spots, really cute! You've recently been trying to get Frank more interested in moths, after all, you thought your species was so interesting! Plus they look like butterflies too! Why did Frank like butterflies so much and not moths?

After some more time, you finally heard a door sound, seeing Frank enter! You placed your little friend on the table carefully, going towards Frank wanting to hug them, which they quickly returned the hug, already knowing how you liked to hug every time you saw each other.

" It's good to see you too (Y/n), how have you been? " Frank asked in a soft tone, granting you with a rare little smile. You let out happy a cooing confirmation, catching they in a little gyrating hug, which they let out a little giggle.

" Okay, okay.. I get it. You have something to show me, don't you? You seem excited " Frank speaks in a soft tone, which you stop spinning them by nodding, thus putting they on the ground quickly going to the table and carefully picking up your little friend.

'' Oh.. so you brought another one of your friends here? What a surprise '' Frank spoke in a neutral tone with a bit of sarcasm, but they wasn't upset with you, they knew what you were trying to do, or rather- Trying to make them to like moths more.. what they had to admit it was working- You were just so insistent that them couldn't help but want to know more about you or your friends… I mean, moths are related to butterflies aren't they?

'' Ah.. I suppose this is a Hypercompe scribonia? They are really divine, beautiful to admire really '' Frank speaks in a soft tone, giving a small smile without realizing it while holding the small moth that seemed to stare at them. You just stood there, watching as them seemed to chuckle gently petting your little leopard moth friend with care.

You'd expect to get more smiles out of they with your moth friends, but for now… you're going to enjoy the ones you already have.

#welcome home arg #welcome home #welcome home frank #welcome home frank frankly #welcome home x reader #welcome home arg x reader #welcome home arg frank x reader

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69misato69 · 1 year

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Prism (Alhaitham x Kaveh) ✦ smut, 2k

archive of our own ✦ twitter ✦ masterlist

kaveh decides to try on his pre-transition clothes before giving them away. both are trans men (he/him pronouns, afab genitals)

the dress that kaveh is wearing here is this one

cw: penetration (strap-on), light gender dysphoria

writer's note: explicit +18 content, please view at your own risk. thank you, have fun !

Top Alhaitham x Bottom Kaveh

Kaveh crosses his arms in front of the mirror with a sigh. The bedroom is overtaken by piles of dresses, skirts and blouses of every color.

Lace, cotton, velvet, leather.

Bows and gowns, summer dresses and stockings.

Kaveh’s past is laid out over the bed and along the floors. Mere pieces of fabric that witnessed every single day of his life. Dates, parties, graduation ceremonies, birthdays and funerals.

Days where he couldn’t collect himself off the floor and nights he spent drawing with aching eyes.

Undergarments that were no longer useful to him.

Reminders of the times he felt too broken to even figure out what was wrong with himself.

Like flipping through a photo album, Kaveh can watch a confused child grow into one wreck of a teenager.

It’s hard to spend your life pretending to be something you’re not.

It’s even harder to find people that care for you along the way, fearing their rejection at every step.

Fond memories that will always be shadowed, because no one even knew who you were on the inside.

Kaveh studies his image in the mirror.

It doesn’t look wrong.

It’s not how a man looks, but it is how this man looks. Kaveh is at peace with that.

Still, it’s not something he can wear on a night out with Nilou, for instance. Not like he can wear it to an anniversary dinner with Alhaitham like he did the first time.

He remembers scouring every shop in Sumeru for this dress.

“What’s the occasion, Miss?”

“Oh! First anniversary with my girlfriend, nothing extravagant. Something simple, though I’d still like to look stunning.”

“Ah, congratulations! I understand. Could I interest you in this velvet piece, maybe?”

Kaveh strokes the fabric, soft and fluid, it still hugs his body perfectly. Ruby red, just like his eyes, it sits on his shoulders and reveals his back in a V-shaped opening, all the way down to his waist.

Kaveh remembers vividly how Alhaitham had palmed over his back when they had met for the date. A gentle kiss on his cheek before they walked to the restaurant, hand in hand.

The necklace Alhaitham gifted to him on that date is the only thing he still uses among his old clothes and accessories.

It's a stunning piece, decorated with ruby stones as if Alhaitham had known what he was going to wear.

He can’t help but smile, yet the look on his face turns to terror soon as he hears keys turning at the lock. He steps into the entrance and holds onto the door’s handle.

“Kaveh?”

“Stay out!” he gasps.

Alhaitham doesn’t force the door to open and instead leaves it ajar, barely getting a glimpse of the hall. “Why?” he asks, puzzled.

“I’m—uh…” Kaveh struggles to come up with an excuse—

“Naked.”

“So?”

Kaveh scoffs, “Just—give me a minute!”

“Are you painting the walls without asking me again?”

Alhaitham knows how comfortable he is when they’re alone, so when Kaveh wants him to keep out, usually he’s up to no good.

Kaveh’s brows furrow, “No, that was a one time thing. But, I still think they would look better in—ugh—nevermind. Just... close the door and give me a minute.”

Alhaitham leans on the doorframe, “You know I can see you, right?”

A moment of silence passes as Kaveh notices. Half of Alhaitham’s face is reflecting on the small mirror that hangs in the entrance.

He locks eyes with the scribe through the reflection, frozen in shock. Alhaitham can’t see below his neck, but it’s enough for him to recognize that this isn’t a part of Kaveh’s daily clothing.

“What are you wearing?”

The calmness of his voice contrasts the racing thoughts that corrupt Kaveh’s mind.

He takes a deep breath and leans on the wall, “I’m trying on my old clothes before giving them away.”

Alhaitham hums, his face disappears from the mirror as he steps back.

“I see. Call me when you’re done.”

Kaveh holds his breath, “You can come in.”

He makes his way into the bedroom again and stands by the dresser’s mirror. The door closes, footsteps follow him into the room. Kaveh places his hands on his waist nervously, refusing to turn around, “What do you think?”

Somehow, it’s easier to talk to Alhaitham through the mirror. It feels less real, like a dream he could wake up from if he wanted to.

“It’s the one you wore on our first anniversary.”

Alhaitham makes his way toward him until there is nothing but a mere inch between them.

“There was a button hidden…” his fingers roam Kaveh’s waist until they stumble upon a hard object right above his ass, “...here.”

It’s buried strategically under the fabric, blending in seamlessly.

“I remember looking for it for 15 minutes since you were passed out.”

Kaveh realizes he had forgotten about the other half of their night. Well, there wasn’t much to remember on his part anyways, nothing but faint glimpses of Alhaitham carrying him home and laying him on the bed, how he meddled with the dress and wiped off his make-up.

The only thing that’s crystal clear among the hazy memories is what Alhaitham had said to him right before they fell asleep.

I hope we can celebrate it forever.

Kaveh remembers, because he thinks about it often. He finds it odd. Alhaitham would never say forever. Forever was out of reach for mortals like them. It wasn’t attainable, and Alhaitham wasn’t one to attempt it anyways.

Whenever Kaveh feels like he could lose him, he remembers.

He makes Alhaitham believe in forever.

Kaveh chuckles, “Hey! It wasn’t my fault the cocktails had too much sugar.”

“Maybe it was because you had seven of them.” Alhaitham teases, smiling at him from the mirror.

Kaveh’s chuckle fades away.

“I’d like to keep this one but… it’s just going to rot away in the closet.”

Alhaitham’s hands grip him tighter, outlining his hips and waist, “You could keep wearing it.”

Kaveh feels his heart skip a beat as the fabric crumples under his grasp.

“Would you?” he asks, genuinely curious. Alhaitham shakes his head to the sides, Kaveh can see how he examines the back of the dress diligently.

“No. But that’s because I never liked dresses.”

“People would be… confused.”

“Certainly.” Alhaitham raises his head to meet Kaveh’s gaze in the mirror, “Let them.”

He finally pulls the blonde closer. Kaveh’s bare back meets his chest. He brushes the messy strands of hair to the side over Kaveh’s shoulder and presses a kiss on his nape.

“You look as handsome as ever.”

It’s strange yet beautiful, watching Alhaitham touch him.

How his hands travel up to cup his breasts, fingers teasing his nipples over the fabric.

Tender and loving, affection drips from his gaze. Alhaitham handles him with care as Kaveh’s breathing gets heavier.

He feels blood rush to his cheeks, matching the color of the dress and his hairpins. Alhaitham kisses at his shoulders and his neck and eventually slips his hand inside the back window of the dress.

Kaveh hisses at the cooling touch, a hand that lingers on his stomach, a bulge forming under the fabric. He watches from the mirror how the outline of Alhaitham’s fingers move up and down along his skin.

He feels them on his hip bones and his ass, drawing circles on his torso and stroking his breasts gently. Though he’s slow and steady, Kaveh can already feel his underwear dampen, a flame bright enough to warm his thighs.

He grows weaker with every drag of Alhaitham’s nails digging into his back, until he can’t help but moan—

“Haytham…”

His eyes peel away from Kaveh’s body, only then recognizing what a flushed mess his face is.

“Yes, dear?” he coos.

“Could you—”

Kaveh feels light-headed, he places his palms over the dresser and leans forward, bending at the waist slightly. His face falls forward, no longer within Alhaitham’s vision.

Even though he can’t finish his sentence, Alhaitham’s hand travels downward to brush against his groin.

“Is that it?” he unties the knot holding the two sides of the dress intact with his other hand. Kaveh nods. He shivers as the dress slides off his shoulders and exposes his upper body fully.

Alhaitham hums, slipping his hand inside Kaveh’s underwear to find him soaking wet. A low groan vibrates over Kaveh’s back. He collapses even more over the dresser, practically bent over with his legs spread out.

Alhaitham circles his hardening clit with gentle motions as he hisses.

Kaveh can’t help but push his hips back, grinding in desperation. Alhaitham knows how to touch him, how to play with him just the way he likes it. Spreading his lips and sliding a digit inside, knowing that Kaveh yearns to be stretched out.

Kaveh’s hips twitch, shaky at the intrusion.

“M—my legs—” he pants in worry.

Alhaitham wraps an arm around his waist, “I’ve got you.”

Kaveh trusts his hold, it’s hard to focus on standing up when Alhaitham’s fingers roam his walls and curl up inside him. Every thrust elicits a squelch from Kaveh’s sopping wet cunt, warm and inviting.

Alhaitham fixes Kaveh against the dresser with his own body and releases the arm wrapped around his waist. He holds the golden strands that fall onto his face and props his head up gently. They lock eyes, lust and slight embarrassment cloud Kaveh’s gaze.

He wants to lower his head, and Alhaitham knows that he will do so no matter what. Even if he yanks on his hair, Kaveh will keep forcing his neck until he’s sobbing in pain.

So, Alhaitham decides to let go.

Instead he leans over Kaveh, holding him even closer.

“Why won’t you look at me?” he asks with a tone that lacks judgment.

He wants to, he really does. But there is no way that Kaveh can watch their reflection for more than ten seconds without releasing on the spot.

Watching what Alhaitham does to him, it flusters him even more than the act itself. Kaveh whimpers every time he catches a glimpse of his twitching hips and Alhaitham’s muscles that flex and release with every flick of his wrist.

Kaveh finds himself beautiful on most days, but this is the first time he actually feels like he can get off by watching his own image.

Regardless, he lacks the conviction and the steady breathing to articulate any of that. He attempts to look up but immediately squirms inside the strong arms that hold him in place, which confirms Alhaitham’s suspicion.

“You like the mirror?” he asks, though it comes off as more of a statement.

Kaveh gasps, “Shut up.”

Alhaitham can’t help but chuckle.

“I was planning on carrying you to the bed, but maybe you’d rather I fuck you right here?”

Kaveh’s heart skips a beat. He looks up daringly—

“Do it.”

Alhaitham’s brows raise, surprised at the sudden surge of confidence. He retracts his fingers and kneels down to the bottom drawer.

The strap circles around his waist as he adjusts himself and lines up behind Kaveh.

Alhaitham looks exquisite, even better when he’s fucking him. Focused yet euphoric, the veins on his neck throbbing with the strain deliciously.

And now, a different angle where Kaveh can watch his body from afar, drinking up the sight of his beloved.

Alhaitham enters him with ease, pushing all the way into his wall with one smooth thrust as Kaveh lets out a deep moan.

More slow thrusts follow, passionate, working him out slowly. Moans and grunts spill from Kaveh’s lips with each one.

Alhaitham slowly picks up the pace and attains a rhythm, nails digging into Kaveh’s hips. He feels overwhelmed by pleasure, failing to track his orgasms.

“Watch yourself. Look how well you’re taking it.” Alhaitham whispers against his neck.

He is. He looks mesmerizing, breasts swaying with every thrust, his back arched perfectly while his warm breath fogs up the mirror. Kaveh finally musters up the courage to look into his own eyes.

It feels foreign and familiar at the same time.

“Beautiful.” Alhaitham pulls him out of his thoughts and presses a kiss between his shoulder blades, “My sunshine.”

Tears pool around Kaveh’s eyes. His gaze turns towards Alhaitham, thrusting into him rhythmically and gazing down in adoration.

Alhaitham is just like him. Surely, built compared to himself, but he’s soft. Kaveh loves napping on his chest. He loves warming his hands inside Alhaitham’s shirt in the winter, he loves kissing up at his thighs and how Alhaitham squeezes his fingers tight deep within himself.

All that he resented in his youth, he adores when it’s on Alhaitham.

Femininity that has nothing to do with flesh.

It manifests itself as sheer will and courage within him. Power and creation. Intelligence and beauty. Sharp edges that only smoothen out for Kaveh.

He turns towards Alhaitham as he undoes the button on the back without looking. The dress slides off fully, pooling around Kaveh’s ankles while he holds onto Alhaitham’s shoulders.

Kaveh is too mellowed out to even rise to his tiptoes.

“Kiss me.” he demands, and Alhaitham doesn’t waste another second before leaning down to claim his lips.

#genshin impact #genshin fic #genshin fanfic #genshin smut #genshin fluff #alhaitham x kaveh #genshin alhaitham #genshin kaveh #kaveh smut #alhaitham smut #mlm #genshin mlm #trans kaveh #trans alhaitham

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floweyheadcanons · 19 days

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Ok guys I'm BACK!!! So I'm gonna call this headcanon the "Sides of Meta Flowey's Mind" theory, which you'll understand in like a few minutes.

So you might be curious, what is the difference between the light and dark sides of Meta Flowey's mind? The main difference is that he has control over the light side of his mind, but not in the dark side. The entire fight mostly takes place in the light side of his mind. (ignore that the dark part has more accurate colors to the fight's background, it's purely for differentiation's sake that the light side has lighter grays...)

So, there are two parts of Flowey's mind, but why does this matter? It matters because I like to imagine that when Clover runs away in the middle of the fight (the first phase to be exact), they end up unintentionally crossing into it. There they end up encountering the mangled-and-fucked-up looking gray floweys that sorta explain the Flowey lore to Clover. But a big part of Flowey's character is that he seems to really hate the idea of being pitied, to the point that he considers it an admirable trait to NOT pity him (What he says to who he thinks is Chara). So, why would he choose to show something like that to Clover, which would likely cause them to feel pity? Simple, he didn't. After ending up in the dark part of Flowey's mind, Clover ends up experiencing his subconscious thoughts, leading to the ugly-fucked-up-looking gray floweys.

I tried my best to draw the gray floweys, but it is what it is. Don't worry though, Flowey reels Clover back in with the Martlet Scene (which he chose to show them ofc).

Bonus dumb drawing for reading this guys thanks!!!!

#undertale yellow #flowey headcanon #flowey uty #meta flowey #uty spoilers #clover uty #this is the first one i hope it cooks

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rxgueone · 1 year

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SEEN

Word count: 4,999

Summary: Austin, who strongly dislikes the oc. Eventually falls for her, and isn’t afraid to admit it.

Warnings: fluff, cursing, enemies to lover trope, arguing, emotional cheating, all I can think of.

Tags: none.

Note: I don’t know what’s been up with Tumblr lately. But this app has been duplicating and deleting paragraphs. So if this story is a bit messed up. I apologize. This is also based off of something that happened to me with the chic I’ve been seeing. We’re about to hit two years so rad. This story is based off of mainly her perspective and to what she’s told me when dealing with her friends who use to constantly judge not only our relationship but as well as me as a person so that’s also rad. But yeah. Story based off of mainly how she sees me and why she loves me etc etc. I love her sm. She’s genuinely perfect. So… I guess you could say this is technically just a super long love letter to my girl. So if she sees this. I love you.

MASTERLIST

—

The blonde sat down in silence. His body hunched over the bench he was sitting, legs crossed, with a pen and sketchbook. He was constantly glancing at the reference photo of Venom that was on his phone. Sketching out some sort of figure of the Marvel Villain.

Behind him was a girl in black pantyhose, a black skirt and black shirt. She had raven colored hair, that was long. However compared to him she was quite little and petite. He hadn’t noticed her presence as he was quietly sketching.

The girl recognized him. He was Austin Butler, the most outspoken guy at the campus. A man who she had hated greatly, and she knew he felt the same way over her. The pair had gotten into several heated debates about controversial topics. He was never afraid to stand up for what he believed in. When she had met him, he was dating a girl named Ana. Who was very short compared to him.

She never understood how Ana could put up with Austin. A brash and blunt man who never seemed to know how to shut up. But, this was the first time he looked at his lonesome. And she watched him draw in his sketchbook.

He never had many friends either. He always looked to be alone ever since he and Ana broke up. He had such a cold expression on his face, he was emotionally unavailable most of the time. And he had changed since the breakup, still outspoken but less or more so.

She cleared her throat, wanting to compliment the drawing. “That’s a nice drawing you got there.”

The pencil stopped moving as he turned to face her. “Oh,” he blankly looked at her. Looking at his drawing again, then at her, “appreciate that. It’s Venom.” He had a simple tone. His voice was raspy, but it had a husky twist to it. Almost seemed unreal how deep someone’s voice really was. She forgot how deep it was in all honesty, even despite of their heated debates.

“Oh… Venom.” She whispered. “Mind if I sit with you to watch?” She asked quietly. She was expecting him to reject the offer, considering their deep dislike towards each other- or, so she thought.

“Yeah, go ahead.” He flicked his head, motioning her to the empty spot. She blinked, taken aback by this. But nonetheless, she had offered, he took it, so she should go through. She sat down at his side, close to him to watch the pencil move against the paper.

She said nothing for some time, not wanting to disturb him. During this time, Austin’s eyes would sometimes wonder off to her face. She was prettier than he remembered. In fact, he never thought she was pretty, purely cause they were typically yelling at each other. He figured he’d spark up a conversation. “You know anything about Marvel?”

“No.” She answered, glancing at his face. “I dunno much about Marvel.”

“Me neither,” he admitted casually, “I just like drawing.” Once the sketch was finished. He began to tighten up the drawing so it could look more of an actual figure instead of just circles and messy squiggles. “More of a Star Wars guy.”

“You like Star Wars?” Her eyes were now focused on his face.

“Yes.” His tone remained monotonous.

“I’ve never watched it.”

“Would you like me to tell you about it?”

“Sure. I’d love to hear about it.” She shrugged. Her brown eyes had remained on him. As he continued to sketch Venom, she listened intently to his words as he talked about the love he had for the series. He sounded passionate, and she couldn’t lie, it was interesting and attractive how someone could talk so passionately about something they felt fondly for.

Her head was slightly tilted the whole time as she listened. She couldn’t believe that she was sitting with Austin, casually talking to him. She thought he’d be mean or hostile towards her. But he seemed so casual and chill, like they had never once argued a day in their life. For some reason, this too charmed her.

She blinked, thinking it’d be awkward to mention it. But she decided to anyways. “I thought you’d be meaner.” She said once he finished his monologue about how great Star Wars was. Austin looked at her with half sleepy eyes. His face was unreadable but she assumed he was confused. “Cause well- y’know, you and I use to go at it.” She chuckled nervously.

“Oh.” He looked away for a moment. “Yeah well,” he started, “I know how to properly loathe people. You were debating with me because that’s the whole point of English Literature. You debate about topics and stupid shit like that. You were only doing it to get the A. I was doing the same. Nothin deep about it.” He shrugged it off. “It was professional, not personal.”

She was surprised by his laid back response. “But I mean— I would ignore you and everything too after that.”

“So?” He smirked. “Don’t matter does it? You’re talkin to me now.” This man was full of surprises. He was laid back. Incredibly so that it seemed unreal. But on his face was a smirk, a smirk that showed friendliness. “We’re still friends. You may not consider me one. But I consider you one. So, I’ll wait for you to talk to me. I’m like a dog.”

“You shouldn’t compare yourself to a dog.” She was taken back from how low he saw himself. Never has she seen someone refer to themself as a dog, and for some reason he didn’t seem too bothered by it. He just looked back at the sketchbook.

“It isn’t an insult to myself.” Beginning to shade in the parts of Venom’s body. “It’s not an insult if it’s true. I’m like a dog. I wait and wait. My ex girlfriend ignored me for a total of six months, and I waited for her.”

“Ana?” Scooting closer to him until their knees were touching. He gave a nod. She looked at what he was wearing. Black jeans, a white shirt underneath his Vans hoodie, with a pair of Vans sneakers. “She ignored you for that long?”

“Like I said Lyra,” he looked at her eyes now. She saw nothing but empty gray orbs. As if he was use to being treated that way. With a blank expression, “I’m a dog.” He returned back to sketching. “You hated me. Your friends hated me too. Most people on this campus hated me. Even my girlfriend ignored me. So… y’know you gotta wait till you’re actually used or some shit.”

“But… nobody should be treated that way.” She spoke softly.

“Oh? When I debated with your whole entire friend group. One of your buddies made a whole post about it on Instagram. Then I got attacked for it.” He scoffed, his tone still showing no range of emotion. He didn’t seemed annoyed, he didn’t seem sad, he didn’t show anything.

“We did that?” Not even being able to recall the event. Austin couldn’t help but chuckle when she answered him. He gave a nod once more, his brows raised in amusement. “Oh- I’m sorry about that. That was incredibly immature of us.”

“Yeah. It was.” He began drawing in the background of the sketch. “But I don’t blame you. It was him. Not you.”

“But I’m friends with him?”

“But, you’re not him.” He put the sketchbook away now. Closing it shut to put it beside him with the pencil on top. “So… I look at you differently. Like I said. I know how to loathe people. I never had the privilege to really loathe someone properly.” Their eyes locked with each other. They were sitting incredibly close.

Maybe she didn’t hate him. Now that she was actually talking to him. He seemed chill, interesting with the way he thought. Yeah, maybe she didn’t hate him. Maybe she believed she did because her other friends hated him, but her? No.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t know that.” She murmured, realizing that he was much different than she first perceived. He chuckled lowly once more, shaking his head. “Well- I don’t hate you either.” This caught his attention. Their eyes were still locked with each other. He had been listening to her intently, his arm over the bench, leaning back on it. With her hands underneath her thighs, with their bodies turned towards each other.

“You don’t?”

“No.” She shook her head. “I thought I did honestly. But now that I get to know you… you’re super chill.” Her hands pulled out from underneath her thighs, nervously twiddling with her fingers.

“Then I’ll see you here tomorrow, huh?” As if he was suggesting the idea to become actual friends. She had nodded her head in agreement. Not wanting to treat him like a dog, like the way he saw herself.

From that day on. The pair would meet up with each other on that bench every day. He’d probably bring some snickers, for himself mainly cause she didn’t like chocolate. But they had began to grow closer to each other as the days pressed on.

Lyra’s priority was always her friend group, and Austin wasn’t the priority. She cared more about her friend group than she cared about him. But at times, she would often catch herself talking about him.

“What’re you so focused on?” One of her friends asked. Noticing that she had been on her phone more, as if she was expecting a text message.

“Oh- a text from that guy I was talking about earlier.” She revealed to them. They quirked up their brows, surprised by the answers.

“You seem more interested in him.”

“Oh, well y’know he’s cool.” She brushed it off as if they weren’t even there. They had laughed at her new interest in him, going back to talking about whatever they were talking about. She had known that if they found out if she was talking to Austin Butler they would have made fun of him.

But for some reason, she began to prioritize him slowly. Slowly he was chipping away at her heart. At times when he would meet with her, they would just sit at the bench at talk. Get to know each other more. With his arm around her shoulder, and her leaning against him.

He was learning more about her. And the more he learned. The more he realized she wasn’t really a good girl like the front she put up for the audience. She wasn’t innocent nor pure like the front she put up. She was mean but she was also kind to him, she would listen to him talk about random things he enjoyed, or would vent to her about how the storage room flooded again at work.

She learned that he was a person filled with anger. He grew up in a culture where he was taught to never show emotion. So he was mostly monotonous with everyone he met. The only time he would actually show emotion was when debating with someone, but that emotion was usually annoyance, nothing more, nothing less. She learned he was impulsive and battled with his demons often. That he needed someone stable there to keep him calm, he needed someone who was patient and understanding. He needed that.

She learned that he was also a handyman. For some reason she found him to be the coolest in the room. He had revealed that he could weld, fix motorcycles, he knew how to cook, he had so many things about him that were surprising. Such as how his favorite color was pastel pink. She found this to be especially shocking due to the fact he was such a burly dude. Tall and blunt with no emotion, who really loved puppies and loved the color pink. When she needed him to help her with something, he was there. Always.

She learned that he would cope with himself by writing. His stories were always different in her eyes. With a world filled with nothing but hate, with a world that is constantly tearing itself apart, writing stories can help put it back together. Making up a poem on the dime for her just like that. She had figured that he’d write about her, about their friendship, about everything.

And so, she had came to the realization that she was slowly falling for him. For a man who was blunt, honest, unemotional, but that was fine for her. Due to the reality of him being an immature sweetheart.

—

At the time he had been talking to a girl for awhile. He would often vent to Lyra about the girl. About how she would belittle him and tell him how nobody would love him as much as she did, why Ana left him, why people treat him like a dog, etc etc. she would just go on with belittling him.

It was eventually so bad that Austin simply told Lyra. ‘I just want to be a good man.’ He would whisper in such a weak and soft tone, exposing his vulnerability to her.

Never before had a man expressed such a genuine desire to be good. Was he belittled so much that he genuinely saw himself as a bad person? To this. She would simply answer with: You are a good person.

And he was. He wouldn’t hurt a fly if he could. It was if he was afraid of hurting people. With his background, he didn’t want to hurt anymore people. He would always listen to Lyra, and she could be herself around him. Sometimes she would twirl, with his hand holding hers to help. Something she was embarrassed about but loved doing due to the skirts she wore.

He admitted to liking her skirts. He admitted to liking everything about her. Saying that she was kind and patient, which meant she was perfect to him. But she never believed him, however he believed his words with everything he had. He had fallen for her, and promised to protect her while they were friends. He had vowed his loyalty to her even as friends. So she could tell him anything she couldn’t tell her friends.

One day by the park, they had been sitting beside each other. She was eating ice cream that he bought for her. “You alright?” He asked.

“Yep! Vanilla is an awesome flavor!” She smiled up at him. A crack of a smile plastered on his face as he kept watching her eat quietly.

Austin had gotten a hint that maybe Lyra felt the same way he felt for her. He saw her as the most beautiful woman in the world. She wasn’t what he first thought of her. She wasn’t a bitch. She was kind, gentle, and understanding. She was whiney and bratty, but she cared deeply for him, he knew. She would listen to how he felt. She would listen. Which was all that mattered to him. Nobody, not even the girl he was seeing could even do that for him.

To him, Lyra was the most perfect woman in the universe. The way she would skip or sometimes ramble about stuff was what made her so perfect. The fact that she would comfortably lean on his shoulder without judging him. The fact that she wasn’t shy to smile. The fact that she was able to sit down with him. To look at him. It was all he could ever ask for from her. The way she would just wrap him up in all her love, the way she would touch his hair to make sure it was okay and not messy. Sometimes he’d just walk around in ripped up clothes due to how old they were and the fact he couldn’t afford anything, she never judged him for that.

He wanted to show her the world. He wanted to show her how grateful he was. Even with the girl he had been currently talking with, how he felt miserable. But with Lyra she would make him smile. Cupping his face as she spoke, gathering and stealing all his attention. Twirling to show off her skirts. For a short while, he thought he could never love again, not after that girl he had been actively talking to, not after the girl that made him feel miserable. But then Lyra found him that one faithful evening.

In all his misery, her calm and gentle smile, her soothing voice was there to save him. When he felt the most lost. She was there for him. She was his Juliet to his Romeo.

So on that day when he gathered up all his courage. He figured he would shoot his shot. “Do you like anyone?”

“Huh?” She gulped down, licking her lips. “You asked me this already.” Her tone showed genuine confusion. Puzzled why he would ask her this while she was eating ice cream.

“I was just curious. I hear things.” He shrugged. “So…?”

“I got a crush.” Revealing only that to him. “What about you?”

“Yeah I got a crush too.” Blinking his dazed eyes, she perked up a brow. Austin? Liking somebody? When he was seeing a girl? Of course he likes someone. Maybe he just wants to amuse himself.

She chuckled to herself. “Yeah? Is it the girl you’re seeing?” Continuing off the assumption that he wanted some entertainment.

“No.” With a shake of his head, he hunched forward off the bench. With his elbows on his thighs, pushing his lengthy figure up.

“Oh-“ she blinked, now she was curious. If it wasn’t her. Then who. “Alright then who do you like?”

“You.”

“What?”

“You.” He reiterated. “I like you.” With eyes staring at hers. She had froze in place. She couldn’t believe how casual he was about this. As if confessing wasn’t nerve wrecking. The bastard even had an arrogant smile on his face. Amusing himself with how shy she had evidently gotten. Her face flushed a light shade of pink, her knees rubbed against each other.

Hurriedly eating the rest of the waffle cone. “Well-“ she gulped down the last of it, wiping her lips with a napkin he gave her, “-I admittedly like you too.”

“I know.” He shrugged. “You don’t do a good job at hiding around me.” Leaning back on the bench. He stared into the sky as if this was an average Tuesday.

“How can you be so casual about this?” Lyra had gotten multiple confessions in her life. All of them were hosted with boys who had their heart pumping in their chest.

Austin shrugged, thinking about it. “I guess… because I’ve accepted that if I get rejected then that’s too bad for me.”

Now that she had known Austin returned those feelings. She wanted him. She wanted him all to herself. But, how could she even admit that. How could she even say she wanted him. Austin had let out a sigh, a disappointed sigh. Which then again caught her attention. Now with his body turned to her. “May I kiss you?”

“What-“ she was still having trouble that the man she use to spite was now a man who liked her, and the fact that she even reciprocated those feelings for him was more surprising.

“May I kiss you.” He didn’t lose his calm tone. Knowing that she was incredibly nervous. “I know you just ate ice cream but my heart is about to explode.” Even with half opened eyes and a relaxed tone, he was nervous.

“Okay.” She nodded, and she watched as his face inched closer to hers. Until she felt their breathing against each other.

“Close your eyes.” He instructed. And she did. He smiled a bit. She’s cute. Tilting his head, their lips now against each other. His arms snaked around her hips to bring her closer. Instinctively, she had her arms around his neck. With her hands going up to his hair. It was soft.

Pulling away from her, he pressed his forehead against hers before finally pulling away enough to get a good look at her. She blinked up at him, and for some reason he was reminded of a doe. He couldn’t help but slightly smile at how cute she had looked. As if she was processing she had just kissed him. “Not bad, huh.”

“Yeah…” she admitted. “Not bad at all.” Seeming breathless by him. A low chuckle that resonated deep within his chest was his only response to how breathless she was.

—

However with the girl getting in the way, he and Lyra couldn’t be together. Without Austin’s knowledge, she had been seeing another man, and eventually that man confessed to her. To which, she had accepted his feelings. And when he had found out, he grew furious.

“You’re dating him? Darcel?” He had his arms folded across his chest. Standing in front of her, with his eyes narrowed down to her. “That goober?”

“You did not just say goober, Austin.” She was trying to take him serious but with the word Goober. She couldn’t. She saw him as a childish guy. “Austin, I don’t even know why you care so much! You’ve been refusing to date me for the last two weeks!” She was sitting on the couch in the middle of his living room at his apartment.

“Okay who gives a fuck, Lyra! I want you. Be with me!” He shouted out of frustration. She blinked, surprised by how randomly he had just asked her out. “Just- who gives a fuck about her, yeah? Just be with me.”

“Oh well that’s a bit too late now. I’m not gonna leave Darcel for you.” She was calm, her legs crossed, folded arms.

He sat beside her now, staring at her eyes, frustrated. Gulping down his anger, he inhaled deeply to calm down. “Tell me this honestly. Do you love him?”

“Scuse me?”

“It’s a simple question Lyra, do you love the guy or not.”

“That’s rather rude of you.”

“Why can’t you just answer the question?” He scoffed, leaning back against the couch with his body turned to face hers.

“I-…” she trailed off, twiddling with her fingers again.

He chuckled, shaking his head. “So you’re playing him.” He muttered. Watching her hand reach out for his, he allowed her to hold his hand in hers. She looked down at his piano fingers, playing with them.

“Well y’know…” she began, “I just- I dunno. I love you. Not him.”

“So then be with me. Why play a dude.” He seemed to have calmed down now. She looked up at his gray eyes. Like usual, dazed and half awake. Proving it.

“Well, Austin. There won’t be an us. It’s over, between us.” She clarified for him. Wanting to make sure that he understood she wouldn’t leave Darcel for him.

“Well, might be over for you. But not for me.” He grabbed the remote of the TV on the coffee table, switching the TV on. She looked at him up and down. He’s got balls. She thought to herself. Something that she loved about him.

—

Darcel had seemed to get the idea that Austin had feelings for Lyra. He had spotted Austin standing uncomfortably close to her at a party the three of them had attended. With his head leaned down close to her face, from what Darcel saw. Austin’s eyes were so focused on her face, clearly listening to her words.

He had his hands on her hips to hold her. She seemed to be casually talking to him. Not noticing the gestures. She wasn’t even pushing him away. At one point, Darcel had overheard Austin telling her that he loved her.

“God Lyra, I love you. Y’know that?” His eyes looked her up and down. She was wearing his flannel jacket, underneath was a black shirt that showed a bit of her cleavage, and a pair of jeans. “You look pretty as hell.” He whispered.

“Yes. I love you too. Now hush down before people hear you.” She hissed.

“Darcel ain’t gonna know.” He shrugged casually. His eyes wandered across the party. Locking with Darcel’s who had been standing there was a cup of beer in his hand. His black hair slicked back. Austin had smirked at Darcel, flicking his head before Lyra had grabbed Austin’s face to force him to look at her, missing his attention.

“What’re you even lookin’ at? You’re making me whine again.”

“Sorry princess.” He wouldn’t kiss her. Even though he wanted to.

Eventually, Darcel and Lyra had gotten into an argument. He had yelled at her to cut Austin off. But due to her love for him, she had rejected the offer to cut Austin off. They would bicker multiple times about it.

He had enough of her now. He had dumped her there and then. “You stay away from him you hear!” He snapped, wanting the last word. “He’s in love with you.” Before slamming the door shut.

She stood there for a moment. Rolling her eyes, she had known that Austin was just a phone call away. To which, she took that phone call.

Just as she wanted. He had came over to her place. They were sitting side by side, her arms had been wrapped around his neck. He had smiled against the kiss, and she had finally understood that he was growing more comfortable with her. So comfortable that he had an actual smile on his face. He loved her. He did.

“So he dumped you.” He wanted to clarify. Even in spite of his blunt tone. She could tell it was a question. “Why?”

“Thought you had feelings for me and didn’t trust me because I refused to dump you.” She shrugged.

“Ah, I see.” He nodded understandably. “Well, guess you’re mine for the taking now.” He leaned down again to kiss her once more. Her hands digging into his blonde hair, with his arms tightly wrapped around her hips.

“Yeah, I guess so.” She smiled.

“How you gonna tell your friends that you’re with me?” Austin had known that Lyra’s friends hated him.

She shrugged. “I’ll figure out a way.”

“Rad.” He grumbled, scratching the back of his head. His brows raised as he sighed.

—

Lyra sat with her friends. All of them surrounded her. The eldest one had glared down at her. “You’re dating Austin Butler? The douche who is opinionated as fuck and doesn’t listen to anybody for shit?”

“You haven’t seen him.” She had a calm tone.

“We all talked with him!”

“Talking isn’t debating.” Not wanting any of this to get to her. She shrugged it off. “You haven’t seen my man.” Looking at them all. “He loves me and I love him, we decided to date. You haven’t seen him. You haven’t seen how he treats me. How he kisses me. How he looks at me.”

She believed that fully. His eyes would always soften when he looked at her. Leaning his head down close, or just leaning in her general direction so he could clearly hear her. The way he’d sometimes crack a smile from something silly she’d do. Or how he would teach her how to dance.

She would step on his Vans, and he’d hold her hand in his, with one hand on her waist. Showing her the steps to a dance.

The way he held her, with his arms propped up on her hips. Sometimes she’d straddle his lap, with her head on his chest. He would keep his arms around her hips, caressing them as he spoke to her in a soft tone. She would lay there, listening to how his heart would race whenever she told him she loved him deeply. But when they laid together. That to her was heavenly.

With her head laid on his chest, her arms around his surprisingly small waist with their legs tangled. She would listen to the beat of his heart, watching as her head would rise then fall in sync with his breathing. How deeply he breathed whenever he was asleep, he had looked like a relaxed baby.

How protective he was over her. How he would always hold the door open for her. Always holding her hand whenever they were out for a stroll around the city. She loved him, and he loved her. He was never afraid to show his love to her, he would sit with her and tell her; I love you, forever and always, with my heart and my soul. You have my heart. I love you Lyra. I love you forever.

None of them had seen her man. None of them had seen him. Seen him for who he truly was. You haven’t seen my man.

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