So this is actually gonna be part 1 of a little comic series I’m gonna be doing for team STRQ’s experience with their own Vytal festival dance! All of which should be made to stand on their own, but I just wanted to share my little headcanons for how I think things went down. ❤
This comic in particular came from my desire to draw Raven in a slayin’ dress, and to showcase how I think her relationship with Summer Rose was like, but more of that is to come!
“He was out of his fighting clothes and armour, sporting a black tunic cut to show off that warrior’s body. His black hair had been brushed and smoothed, and even his wings looked cleaner. His siphons remained - a metal, fingerless gauntlet that stretched beneath the tailored sleeves of his jacket.”
After Old Xian’s rockstar pics from the four, I couldn’t resist…. Boyband,
with He Tian as the frontman…? I bet his voice is deep, raspy,
smokey, sexy as fuck. (I absolutely don’t know how to draw drums or
guitars or a stage, so don’t mind the mistakes, pls *laughs*)
Here's another prompt: fell sans react to meeting his hot next door neighbor on the surface?
(oh boi howdy do i have a weak spot for Red and him getting the hots for his potential/future s/o. bless you, sweet anon, for giving me the chance to indulge a little further in that ;) <3 )
Red decidedly did not have a death wish.
Even with Edge out for the day - no doubt chasing Undyne down or accidentally terrorizing parents when he walked up wordlessly with a lost child he found wandering in the park as he trained - Edge’s sense of smell was uncanny for a being without a nose, and would happily shout Red’s skull into the next century if he caught a whiff of smoke clinging to anything inside.
So without bothering to properly walk out of his room, Red tucked his box of cigarettes and his lighter in his shorts and teleported to the balcony.
Their apartment was a pretty nice one, all things considered - decent area too, now that monsters could legally integrate with society. He and Edge had been in agreement on holding onto an apartment for at least a little bit before deciding to set up permanently anywhere - the world was big up here, absurdly so, and even if they’d both feel more comfortable closer to the mountain, there were a lot of areas around the city to choose from. So here he was, leaning against the railing of their top-floor corner apartment balcony, with a view of the balconies in the building adjacent to them accompanying the view of the enormous wooded park they lived next to. It was a view that made him feel a little more at ease when his anxiety was acting up - he could grab a smoke, stare up at the sky, or do a little people watching alongside the next apartment building or in the shade of the park.
As he slipped his cigarette between his teeth and lit it , enjoying the late afternoon sun on his bones and the decent breeze picking up, he noticed that his foot started instinctively tapping - huh, he could hear a song now actually, coming from the next apartment building over, pretty loudly…
“All that I want Is to wake up fine Tell me that I’m alright - That I ain’t gonna die.”
The cigarette almost dropped out of Red’s mouth.
“All that I want Is a hole in the ground. You can tell me when it’s alright For me to come out.”
You were on the balcony closest to him in the next building over - top floor, corner apartment, probably a mere 50 feet away. You had a series of small clotheslines strung out towards one side of your balcony and had clipped up several shirts and what seemed to be a set of sheets for a bed. Next to you buzzed a small speaker, surprisingly loud for it’s clearly travel-intended size, and it played the song on as you shifted and swayed, tapping out the energetic beat of the song while you sang along and clipped up a pair of jeans and took down a few dry pieces of clothing to make further room.
“Hard times Gonna make you wonder why you even try Hard times Gonna take you down and laugh when you cry These lives-”
Your back was mostly towards Red, and stars was he grateful. He felt a bead of magic forming on his skull, and knew a bit of a flush had picked up on his face- because by Asgore’s shitty beard, he couldn’t tear his gaze away from the figure you cut as you finished hanging up your laundry and spun around, your hips hitting side to side in perfect time, a mischievous grin on your face as your eyes closed and you sang along to the deceptively upbeat song.
“And I still don’t know how I even survive Hard times, Hard times - And I gotta get to rock bottom-!”
Your foot stamped against the balcony floor, your arms thrown wide as you crowed the line to the sky.
Prompt: Hey I was wondering can you make a smut one where like jughead gets jealous because you’ve been spending a lot of time with another guy for whatever reason and he confronts you about it ? Thank you so much in advance I’m like in love with your blog ❤️❤️❤️
Hi! Can I have a Jealous!Jughead Jones smut? Maybe Y/N is spending a lot of time with Archie and Jug gets jealous (duh) and shows her who she ‘belongs’ to?
A/N: Jealous Jughead is my life purpose. Hopefully I did okay on this one! Sorry it’s short! Requests are welcome.
It all started with Archie asking you to help him with his english paper. It was known around school that you were good at english and had a keen eye for editing so it wasn’t out of the ordinary when your ginger friend asked for your help.
You had already finished and edited your own paper as well as looking over your boyfriend, Jughead’s. So You simply shrugged and told him to meet you at the library.
After the first meeting, Archie asked you to help him with some other stuff so he could keep up his grades for football. You agreed as you’re always happy to help out a friend.
That was Monday.
You told Jughead that Arch needed help with homework and that he was welcome to come as well but he simply shrugged, walking away with a frown on his face.
It’s been a week and your boyfriend has been acting differently since you started hanging out with Archie more. You guys moved your meeting from the Library to Pop’s and Arch always offered to pay as a thank you for helping him.
Warnings: Lots of smut, protected though, but smut. Wrap it before ye tap it.
A/N: My baby @imaginedaily asked me if I could write a little something for her and of course I said yes because she’s my baby and I love her and I’m guessing I’m a bit gay – okay, A LOT hehe <3 Inspired in Hey Violet’s “Guys my Age”
You got out of the shower with a white towel
wrapped around your body. Andy Black blasting in the background, as loud as
your neighbors allowed. Dancing around at the rhythm of the music, you took out
clothing from the drawers and started sliding it on your frame.
Your music faded away and in its place, your
ringtone rang. You looked at it and ignored the caller. It had been about four
weeks since you’d been ignoring your lame ex; he wanted to get back together
with you because he missed you very much but you felt completely disgusted by
the idea. Someone told you guys your age were idiots and even though he seemed
normal at first, he proved to be everything you were told he would.
Zipping up your leather jacket and turning the
keys, you hit downtown to see what could the night life offer a single lady
such as yourself. You came across a nice-looking place with some live music and
seats near the stage to enjoy the music while being seated and drinking. As you
made your first order, you couldn’t help but to look at the guy a few tables
away from you. He was kinda hot in a rough way.
After exchanging glances at one another, he
made the first move of changing seats next to you. His name was Clint, or so he
said. Much older than you but not enough to be an old guy.
“And what is a nice girl like you, doing in a
place like this?” He asked before sipping from his drink.
“What can I say?” you shrugged, “my ex-man done
me wrong and here I am spending my nights talking to hot but old strangers.” A
flirty smile drew on your lips.
“Ouch,” Clint took his hand to his heart in an
offended manner, “don’t hurt your old man like that, kid.”
After some enriching music, conversation and
drinks, you found that that Clint used to work in a circus and that he was more
or less skilled at shooting arrows. You were rather impressed with that and you
asked him to please show you how to shoot one, and after paying for the drinks,
he walked with you back to his place which was not far from the bar.
The night was a bit chilly, but not enough to
make you shiver. His conversation was just as fun and as relaxed as he was
inside the bar with all the noise and the people around you. At first you
thought he was one of those guys who liked pick up young girls because he
couldn’t afford to be with one his age, but he seemed more like the guy who
actually didn’t care if he was with one or not. Like he didn’t care at all of
anything around him, really.
His apartment was entirely neat, and even
cleaner than yours. You wandered around his living room while he took out some
beers from the fridge for you to drink. You saw some pictures with him and two
children, and lots and lots of other people.
“If it’s not too personal, who are the kids in
these pictures?” You pointed at one of the pictures.
“My sister’s kids.” He replied, getting closer
and handing you your freezing can. “Good kids.”
“And I’m sure they love their uncle Clint,
right?” You mocked. “That’s sweet.”
“What can I say?” He shrugged, rising his hands
along with him, “all people tend to love me the minute they meet me so… we all
win here, right?” He opened his can and took a long sip from it. You saw how
his Adam’s apple bobbed and suddenly he became even hotter than how you
pictured him. You decided to take a good sip too and let yourself enjoy his
Two beers later you were on the rooftop trying
to shoot arrows, but it was useless, you were not only bad at it, you were
terrible; not a single one hit the bull’s-eye, nonce. He, on the other hand,
was incredibly good. He was so damn good that he didn’t need to look at his
target. He looked at you and kept talking while shooting.
It was like watching that Brave scene when
Merida rejects the sons of the lords, only 10 times cooler.
“You have to relax. You have to be the bow.” He tried to explain. “Try
screaming, at the top of your lungs,” you did as he told you but you only ended
up with a sore throat, “did that work?” you shook your head. “I didn’t think
so,” he rolled his eyes, “ok, now try shaking?” you did, but you only felt even
more ridiculous and he tried hard not to laugh at you.
“Oh god, I’m done with this.” You huffed and
handed Clint his bow and the arrow he gave you to try.
“No, come on.” He said. “Take my hand–” Clint
reached out his free hand and you reluctantly accepted it— “now close your eyes
and try to breathe with me.” His voice was soft, and it took you a moment
before you started imitating what he was doing. You felt your chest expanding
with the air income and with your hands in his, you actually felt much more
He slowly got closer and closer, until you had
his breath brushing your lips. Your mouth hung a bit open when you felt the
proximity of his. It was pure gut instinct that took over your senses, and in a
split second you were crashing your lips on his and pulling from his jacket to
make the distance disappear.
His strong hands held your waist tightly, and
his thumbs circled the uncovered spots of your skin. The bow and quiver fell
onto the concrete floor and the night suddenly became hotter. His mouth molded
perfectly with yours and his tongue gently slid to intertwine with yours.
Somehow, you were not very interested in shooting arrows anymore.
He carried you back to his apartment and closed
the door by pushing you onto it. You got rid of your jacket and top and Clint
followed in suit, revealing a scarred but ridiculously well-defined torso. You
went for his lips again as he walked with you somewhere in his apartment, soon
you realized it was his bedroom.
He gently placed you over the mattress and
started placing soft kisses along your jawline and down your neck. He clearly
knew what he was doing and you understood why people kept telling that messing
around with boys your age was a waste of time. Older men definitely knew what
to do, where to do it, when to do it and how to do it. His pace was soft,
unlike your ex’s who wanted to get shit done ASAP; oh no, Clint took his time
with you, making you enjoy the pleasures of being with a man with experience.
Your breath got caught in your windpipe when
you felt a pair of calloused hands near the valley of your breasts, he slowly
pulled down the fabric of your bra, giving you enough time to react and tell
him to stop, but you said nothing, and your silence only indicated the
permission he had. You helped Clint by freeing yourself from the straps and
unclasping it from behind. Just a little help.
“I could that on my own, (Y/N).” He teased,
keeping his lips glued to the skin of your chest. “I am not like the guys your
“Since you’re a bit older—” you gasped— “I
thought you might need a little help, right?”
“Well, I appreciate that.” He looked up at you
He kissed and sucked on the hot skin of your
breasts; Clint also spread your legs wider to lay comfortable in between them
and use them as support once his lips carried on their way down to the hem of
your jeans. He quickly unmade the button and pulled the fabric down your legs.
You supported yourself with your elbows on the
mattress as he pulled away your wet underwear with his teeth. His hot breathing
was a terrible teaser and it was amazing, because in your life someone had
taken such care of you. His tongue did wonders and you were sure that you were
tearing up his quilt with your tight grip. Hope he didn’t mind.
In a matter of seconds, you were blissfully screaming
the Lord’s name and pushing Clint’s head closer to you. It took you a while you
fathom how good he was just by eating you out. You stared at the ceiling,
trying hard to catch your breath.
“Better than younger guys?” he savored his own
lips, smirking wickedly at you.
“Oh, most certainly. Guys my age don’t know how
to treat me right.”
“It’s only about to get better.” He unmade his
jeans, revealing a glorious shaft under the tight underwear, and before
throwing them away, he picked up a condom from his side table. At least he
didn’t need to be told to fucking use one. You made a mental note on the
various reasons why older guys were better than guys your age.
He positioned himself in between your legs,
teasing your entrance with his length and slowly pushed in. He placed his hands
on both sides of your head and lowered his upper body to distract you from the
terrible stretching feeling by placing soft kisses on your lips. You were
rather confused by his love demonstrations, was this a plain fuck or was he…
You arched your back from the mattress and held
on to his broad shoulders as he pounded harder each second. You wrapped your
legs around his waist and dug your heels on his butt. You loved to hear when he
grunted trying to reach a deeper point in you; he was not loud, and compared to
you he was a bit silent, but the little moans that spilled on his lips sounded
If your previous orgasm was amazing, this one was
indescribable. You couldn’t recall coming so loud and so joyfully. You
surrendered on the mattress while he helped you ride out the orgasm while
reaching his own. You had never been the one to come first, let alone a guy
waiting for you. Well, he was not a random guy, he was a man.
After pulling out, he placed a sweet kiss on
your forehead, and headed to the bathroom. You started picking up your clothes
to get quickly dressed and leave, but before you could walk away from the
bedroom, he appeared in his pajamas (that only included a pair of shorts) and
leaned on the door frame.
“You’re not staying for breakfast?” He asked. “I
mean, it’s a bit late for you to go out there.”
“I can call an Uber.” You shrugged.
“I’m a bit of a sucker for cuddling,” he
admitted, shrugging and walking to the bed, “why don’t you accept my invitation
for breakfast and stay the night?” He patted the bed with a huge grin on his
face. “You can take a shirt from the drawer; the first one.”
You sighed and did as he told. He was a bit
right, it was too late to call an Uber and breakfast sounded like a great idea.
You searched for a shirt you liked and that you could keep. A purple one with a
red, white and blue bull’s-eye in the middle. It was big enough to cover your
butt and you loved the way it looked on you. You even got whistles and cheering
from Clint as you did a bit of modeling. When you were about to close the
drawer, you found some dark, leather-looking clothing.
“What’s this?” You asked, holding the sort of
“Oh, it’s my uniform.”
“Circus uniform?” You asked again, folding the
garment and closing for good the drawer. You slid under the covers and cuddled
next to Clint.
“No, more like avenging uniform. I’m Clint
Barton, by the way.” He smiled, kissed the top of your head and then called it
quits by turning off the lights.
I love ur blog it's definitely one of my faves!! Could I get a super fluffy, lovey-dovey, mushy scenario where todoroki is feeling self conscious about his scar and when his partner finds out they shower his scar in kisses and tell him how handsome and wonderful he is and maybe todo gets a bit emotional?
((aaa this didn’t turn out as mushy as I’d intended but I’m hella tired and I haven’t posted anything for days so here oops))
He probably didn’t think you’d noticed, but you were fully aware that Shouto did not like his face. It was easy to see his point of view, you certainly wouldn’t care for your appearance if it gave you so much grief and a scar over your eye, but you just couldn’t agree with him. If there were a physical embodiment of “ugly,” he’d be the inversion. He was, to put it frankly, a beautiful person. But he couldn’t tell. You found him one evening staring into the mirror, frowning. Next to his hand was a small, flesh-colored bottle and a little sponge. Was that concealer? He hadn’t noticed you yet, so maybe you could watch him for a minute. He picked up the makeup and you could practically hear his internal dialogue. “Is this okay? Maybe I’ll look better. Uraraka hasn’t even noticed I’m borrowing this.” Yeah, that was definitely Uraraka’s. “Shouto, what’re you doing?” You finally turned the corner and he froze up. “Nothing.” His hand shifted, knocking the bottle somewhere to be found later. “I didn’t see you there.” “I know. I did that on purpose.” You moved closer, draping your arms over his shoulders. “Why’d you steal someone’s concealer? You look fine!” He wasn’t looking at you. He was pointedly looking at anything but you. Embarrassment was obvious on his face, brows and jaw locked in place. “‘It’s not stealing if you give it back.” “That’s not the point I’m making!” You gently flicked the back of his head, then leaned up to kiss him under the eye. “You don’t need that. You’re already so handsome, Shouto, don’t try to get rid of that.” If it was even possible, his mouth set itself into even more of a line. “It’s gross… I just wanted to look like I used to. Nobody should have to look at… this.” “What, when you were five? Sweetie, people don’t look the same as they did when they were little! I sure don’t!” You rubbed your thumb over the scar and he relaxed into it on reflex. “And I want to look at… that. I wouldn’t be dating you if I didn’t, right?” He hesitated for a minute before finally muttering “…Right.” You grinned and kissed him one more time. “Alright, my handsome boy, I’m going to take a shower. When I’m done I’m going to come back in here, you will be concealer-free, and you are gonna sleep over in my room, alright? I’ll be back in ten!” You waved at him, skipping away to wash off the long day. Todoroki Shouto did not cry. It didn’t matter how much you made him happy, or how perfect you were, he did not cry. He did, however, fail to suppress a small, wavering smile when he thought about how you would never even let him try to hate himself.